Nathan Redgrave deliberately stressed the word "married," his deep, bottomless black eyes so cold they seemed to be laced with shards of ice.
Morgan Joyce's cool gaze landed on Nathan Redgrave's hand gripping Hannah Hale's. "You're hurting her. Let go."
"Whether she's in pain or not has nothing to do with you."
The air crackled with tension, as if a fight could break out at any moment.
Nathan Redgrave's grip was incredibly strong. Hannah Hale's wrist throbbed with pain where he held it, and the skin had already turned red.
'If this were Fiona Keating, he would be gentle with her. He'd never be this rough, this inconsiderate of her feelings.'
'This man who kept calling her his wife was less considerate than a good friend.'
'His anger right now is probably just because he saw me coming out of the villa with Morgan Joyce. It's just his male pride acting up.'
Hannah Hale wrenched her hand free from Nathan Redgrave's grasp. "Why are you here?"
