Annabel looked up with wide disbelieving eyes. As she had assumed the hand that had sprang out to stop Bridget was actually Troy's not Carson's.
In sharp contrast to his normally laid-back manner his face was a mask of icy rage. He had a steely grip on Bridget's wrist, his knuckles white.
Bridget gasped and attempted to pull her hand away, her expression a mix of surprise and indignation.
Bridget yelled “Who the hell are you?. How dare, you let go of me?”
Like ice chips Troy’s eyes never left her.
“Never again under any circumstances attempt to raise a hand on Annabel.” The low growl in his voice was so menacing that it made the room's atmosphere feel heavy.
With a last forceful shove he released her wrist and Bridget staggered back gripping her arm and staring at him like a snake
