Noah's face transformed in an instant, his features hardening into a mask of barely suppressed homicidal rage. The romantic tension he had painstakingly built was shattered, replaced by the grating, uninvited presence of his cousin.
He stared at Mason, wishing he could reach across the table and wrap his hands around the man's throat. Every time things seemed to be aligning with Gianna, Mason appeared like a persistent, buzzing fly that refused to be swatted.
"Mason," Noah spat, his voice trembling with the effort to remain civil in Gianna's presence. "We were in the middle of a private dinner. What the hell are you doing here?"
Mason didn't even look at Noah. His eyes were glued to Gianna, traveling shamelessly from the arch of her collarbone down to the dangerously high slit of her red gown.
