Julian Neal, sitting just a few rows away, couldn't take his eyes off Isabella.
He noticed every tilt of her head toward the corner of the room, every time the heiress's golden eyes searched, almost hungrily, for the scruffy silhouette of Lohan Hayes. Rage bubbled in Julian's chest like acid.
'It can't be...' Julian thought, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table. 'Is she really interested in that lowlife from the Lower Zone? Just because he got lucky with a cheap trick and fried my projector?'.
The humiliation of that day still burned in his memory like ozone. To Julian, the fact that Isabella, the girl he'd been trying to impress for months with his lineage and good looks, was devoting even a single second of attention to Hayes was a personal offense.
