"I've eaten at the Davidson family table for twelve years. I helped them claw their way from second-rate nouveau riche into high society. Built their reputation from nothing. Secured connections in every direction. I think I've done enough."
Outside the window, thunder rolled through the sky. A flash of lightning lit up the street, followed by a sudden downpour.
A couple burst through the doors, laughing as they shook off the rain. The woman clung to the man's arm, fussing as she wiped down his jacket. He looked down at her and smiled, flicking the water from his hair.
Then our eyes met.
I went still.
So did he.
Archie adjusted his sleeves, called a server over, grabbed a glass of wine, and strolled to our table.
"Troy," he said with that easy, practiced smile.
"Long time no see." He raised his glass and tossed it back in one gulp. "Thanks for taking care of Margaux these past six years. I heard she got so depressed after I left the country that she nearly committed suicide. Silly girl."
My jaw clenched. 'He was thanking me for looking after my wife? This fucking asshole!'
"Let me remind you, Branson. Margaux is my wife," I said, voice low and steady. "Taking care of her is my responsibility. Don't act like you did me a favor."
Archie gave a lazy chuckle, smug and irritating. "Six years, and the little lapdog finally knows how to bark, huh? You really think you're Margaux's husband? Come on, man. Margaux only picked you because I wasn't around. You were just available. A warm body."
He leaned in, just slightly. His tone dropped as he added, "I didn't say anything back then because, well... at least you were cleaner than hiring a random escort."
Archie then straightened, smugness written all over his face.
"Oh, and about that divorce? I'm all for it. But let me make something clear. Don't even think about sticking around Margaux afterward. Just because you slept with her a few times doesn't mean you get to keep hovering."
He paused for effect.
"I don't like sand in my eyes."
Hearing his words, my hand moved before my brain could stop it.
The sound of the punch cracked through the bar like a gunshot.
I lowered my hand and didn't give Archie a single fuck.
"Archie," I said evenly, my voice low but sharp, "as long as I'm still her husband, you're just the shameless side piece. So tell me, what gives you the right to insult me?"