Chapter 15

Dorothy’s POV I scanned the crowd and wasn't surprised to see Isolde's little act working its magic. Especially on the men. There's something about a woman in a soaked, nearly see-through dress, with wet hair, pitiful doe eyes and precious tears rolling down her beautiful cheeks that awakens the protective instinct in them. My wolf growled inside me, disgusted by their predictability. More than one guest had turned to aim disapproving scowls in my direction. As if I cared what these packless socialites thought of me. Their whispers and pointed looks might as well have been wind for all they affected me now. Darius helped secure the tux jacket over Isolde's shoulders, then stared at me silently, his Alpha gaze demanding an apology without words. The bond between us might be broken, but his expectation of my submission remained. I scoffed. "Forget it. I'm not apologizing." I'd done that three years ago when she pulled this same stunt. It hadn't improved Darius's impression of me then. I