ILIANA’S POV
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The blissful delight in my chest comes to a sudden falter, disappearing into the depths of the ocean as my eyes flick to the right of Drystan, and there he is, standing with that bartender once more, leaning into her, smiling as he whispers something to her that has her cheeks glowing red. My entire body freezes, the wine glass halfway to my lips lower, the bottom connecting with the surface in a soft thud. My shoulders sag as I watch him flirt, like the night before, and this time it’s more obvious.
Drystan’s head turns in the direction I’m glaring at, and then a warmth sensation falls over my hands, drawing my attention from my ex to where Drystan’s large veiny hand rests on mine.
“Don’t,” his stern demand is cruel, but his eyes—those grey orbs that shine in the light
