Seeing the dark, predatory gleam in Preston's eyes, Daphne realized he was indeed bothered.
"This is the part where you march up there, snatch that napkin, and stomp it into the ground," Daphne advised.
Preston remembered Melanie mentioning that Daphne had been binge-watching toxic billionaire romance dramas lately, which explained her dramatic flair.
"I don't need to," Preston said softly, the tension in his brow relaxing. "My girl can handle it."
Following his confidence, Daphne turned her attention back to the stage.
Melanie offered Dominic a chilling, completely void smile. "No thank you, Mr. Hale. I'm a bit of a clean freak. I don't touch dirty things."
Dominic's face froze.
He had anticipated a rejection, but he hadn't expected her to publicly humiliate him. Jaw tight, he awkwardly pulled his napkin back.
A fire burned in his chest, though he wasn't angry at Melanie. He knew the road to winning her back would be brutal. But he had made his choice, and he wasn't going to retreat. He would prove his worth. He would make her fall for him all over again.
Taking a deep breath, Dominic tried to reframe the interaction. She hadn't taken his napkin, but she had looked at him. She had spoken to him. That meant the door wasn't entirely bolted shut.
Catching Dominic's delusional smirk from the corner of her eye, Melanie felt a wave of disgust wash over her.
She blew gently on the steaming lamb broth and took a tiny sip.
Her fingers immediately stiffened around the bowl. Frowning deeply, she set it down and didn't take another drop.
"What's wrong, Melanie? Did you burn your tongue?" Dominic asked, playing the concerned gentleman.



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