Alaina pushed a piece of steak around her plate. She was bored out of her mind, listening to Mark brag endlessly about a corporate merger he had just won.

Mark leaned forward across the table. He reached his hand out, aiming to cover Alaina's left hand resting near her fork.

Alaina saw the movement. She smoothly picked up her wine glass, taking a tactical sip of water to avoid his touch.

Mark's hand hovered awkwardly in the air for a second before he pulled it back, clearing his throat and continuing his monologue.

Alaina subtly glanced at the watch on her wrist as she set the glass down, calculating how soon she could politely leave.

The agonizing dinner finally ended. Mark signaled the waiter, Marco, for the check.

They stood up. Alaina maintained a strict physical distance as they walked toward the coat check in the front lobby.

At the exact same moment, the heavy velvet curtain of the VIP booth was pushed aside. Preston, Lachlan, and Jarred walked out into the lobby.

Jarred walked in the back. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He radiated a freezing, unapproachable aura.

Preston scanned the lobby. His eyes landed on Alaina waiting by the coat counter.

A bright smile broke across Preston's face. "Alaina!" he called out loudly.

Hearing that familiar voice, Alaina's spine went rigid. She turned around slowly. Seeing Preston's genuinely warm smile, a wave of complicated feelings washed over Alaina. He had always been the kindest of Jarred's friends, a painful reminder of a life she had lost.

After seeing Preston's friendly wave, her eyes inevitably slid to the man standing behind him.

Jarred stepped forward. The light from the crystal chandelier above cast sharp shadows across his strong jawline.

His dark eyes were locked onto her like a predator tracking its prey.

The air in the lobby seemed to evaporate. The temperature plummeted.

Preston, completely unaware of the tension, stepped up and gave Alaina a quick, friendly hug.

Mark immediately stepped closer to Alaina. He puffed out his chest and extended a hand to Preston. "I'm Mark Hoffman. Alaina's date."

At the word date, Jarred's jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked visibly. A flash of pure hostility crossed his eyes.

Preston blinked in surprise but shook Mark's hand politely. He then gestured behind him. "These are my friends."

Mark's eyes moved past Preston and landed on Jarred. Recognition hit Mark instantly. He knew the face of the billionaire CEO who dominated the financial news.

Mark's expression morphed into pure sycophancy. He eagerly thrust both his hands toward Jarred.

"Mr. Mcknight, it is an absolute honor to meet you," Mark gushed. "I would love the opportunity to visit your offices sometime."

Jarred looked down at Mark's extended hands. He didn't move a single muscle to reciprocate.

He completely ignored Mark's existence. He shifted his gaze back to Alaina, his posture dripping with arrogance.

Mark's hands hung frozen in the air. His face turned a deep shade of red. He slowly pulled his hands back, thoroughly humiliated.

Desperate to save face, Mark turned to Preston. "So, how do you all know Alaina?"

"We all went to the same Ivy League," Preston smiled. "We're old friends."

A low, dark scoff came from Jarred, slicing through the polite conversation.

Jarred stared directly into Alaina's eyes. His voice was low, heavy, and dripping with double meaning. "Yes. We are very familiar with each other."

Mark let out a nervous laugh, trying desperately to break the suffocating awkwardness caused by Jarred's blatant disrespect.

He turned to Preston and forced a change of subject, asking about Preston's latest venture capital investments.

Preston answered politely for a moment before turning his attention back to Alaina.

"How have things been at the hospital, Alaina?" Preston asked warmly. "Are the shifts still killing you?"

Alaina looked at Preston, grateful for an excuse to pull her eyes away from Jarred's burning stare.

She slipped back into her professional persona. "The surgical schedule has been packed lately. It's exhausting, but good."

Preston's eyes lit up with sudden realization. "Actually, my three-year-old niece, Poppy, is scheduled for cleft lip repair surgery next week at your hospital."

Alaina's defensive posture melted away. Her face softened into an expression of deep focus and care.

She nodded. "I reviewed Poppy's chart this morning. I am the lead surgeon for her case."

Preston exhaled a loud sigh of relief. "Thank God. Knowing she has the top maxillofacial surgeon in New York makes me feel so much better."

Jarred, who had been leaning against a marble pillar, stiffened slightly at the words "top surgeon".

The impenetrable ice in his eyes cracked for a fraction of a second.

He stared at Alaina. He saw the quiet confidence and the brilliant professional light radiating from her face.

The girl who used to study late into the night in his dorm room was now at the absolute top of her field.

A violent mixture of intense pride and sick, twisted possessiveness churned in Jarred's chest.

He forced the emotion down, burying it under his cynical armor.

Jarred let out a harsh, grating laugh. It shattered the warm moment between Alaina and Preston.

"Dr. Strong is still working herself to the bone just to climb the ladder, I see," Jarred drawled slowly.

The insult hit Alaina like a physical blow. He still believed she had left him for money and status.

Alaina straightened her spine. Her hands curled into tight fists at sides.

She met Jarred's aggressive stare head-on. Her eyes were as cold as frost.

"Saving lives requires actual skill, Mr. Mcknight," Alaina said, her voice devoid of any warmth. "Not just inheriting a trust fund."

The words struck Jarred's deepest insecurity.

Jarred's eyes turned lethal. The air around him grew heavy and dangerous.

Mark, completely blind to the deadly crossfire, decided to chime in to agree with the billionaire.

"Doctors do work too hard," Mark chuckled. "With your talent, you shouldn't have to burn yourself out like this. A woman as brilliant as you deserves a life of more ease and comfort, letting a man handle the stress, Alaina."

Jarred snapped his head toward Mark. He glared at the lawyer with a look of pure, unadulterated murder.

Mark physically flinched. The rest of his sentence died in his throat.

Alaina felt a wave of absolute disgust toward Mark. She snatched her trench coat from the attendant.

She looked at Mark with dead eyes. "If you think a woman's ultimate goal is to marry a man, then this date is officially over."

Mark's face cycled through shades of pale white and angry red after being publicly humiliated by Alaina.

Unable to handle the embarrassment, he cleared his throat loudly. "I need to use the restroom," he muttered, quickly walking away down the hall.

Preston watched Mark retreat and shook his head. He turned to Jarred.

Preston clapped a hand on Jarred's shoulder. His voice was full of genuine relief.

"I'm really glad to see you can be in the same room with her without losing your mind," Preston said. "It's good that you've finally moved on."

The words moved on triggered a violent surge of darkness in Jarred's eyes.

He turned his head slowly. He looked at Preston with a gaze so cold and hollow it made the hair on the back of Preston's neck stand up.

Preston didn't notice the danger. He leaned in closer to Jarred, lowering his voice to gossip.

"That Mark guy is a joke," Preston whispered. "He's just a mediocre lawyer looking for a trophy. He doesn't deserve Alaina."

Lachlan, who had had one too many whiskeys and always enjoyed stirring the pot, let out a low, knowing chuckle.

Lachlan took a step forward, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at Preston with an amused, instigating smirk.

"You have high standards now, Preston?" Lachlan drawled, dragging out the syllables.

"Did you forget that three years ago, you tried to set Alaina up with your cousin?" Lachlan asked loudly.

The question dropped like a live grenade directly into Jarred's brain.

Jarred's casual stance vanished. His entire body locked up, every muscle pulling tight as wire.

The fingers holding his unlit cigar gripped it so hard that the knuckles turned a terrifying shade of white.

Jarred whipped his head toward Preston. His voice sounded like gravel grinding together. "You tried to set her up with another man?"

Preston jumped back, startled by the sudden, suffocating murderous intent rolling off Jarred. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"It was a long time ago, Jarred," Preston stammered. "Besides, Alaina refused to even meet him."

Even knowing she had refused, the venomous snake of jealousy sank its fangs deep into Jarred's sanity.

The realization hit him-during the eight years he had spent bleeding for her, countless other men had tried to touch what belonged to him.

A destructive, violent rage slammed against his ribcage, demanding to be let out.

Jarred reached up and yanked fiercely at his silk tie, pulling it loose. He took a harsh breath, fighting the urge to tear the room apart.

Standing a few feet away, Alaina heard every word. A wave of humiliation washed over her.

She hated being discussed like a piece of property by these arrogant men.

She gripped her trench coat tightly and looked down the hallway, praying Mark would hurry up so she could leave. Under the guise of adjusting her clutch, she quickly pulled out her phone and fired off a desperate text to Claire: 'Worst date ever. SOS. Come get me outside the restaurant.' She slipped the phone back into her bag.

Jarred's sharp eyes caught her movement. He saw her looking for the lawyer.

Seeing her actively wait for that piece of trash snapped the final string of Jarred's control.

He took a heavy step toward her, his body radiating a terrifying, dominant energy.

Just as Jarred closed the distance, Mark walked out from the hallway corner.