hate

Neven’s POV

“Your woman?” I scoffed. “She’s beneath your standards and nowhere near your match.”

Jane leaned into him, subtle and the slit of her dress flashed a glimpse of thigh, and every man around us sucked in a breath.

She lifted her gaze to Caesar, dark and smoky… then turned to me and smiled again.

“Funny,” she said softly. “I used to think the same thing about you.”

I opened my mouth to fire back but then Caesar pulled her closer, his lips brushing her temple, proud. Like she’d just delivered a perfectly aimed killing blow.

Because she had and I was bleeding out in front of the entire room.

“Well, as you can see,” Caesar said, his voice smooth, his eyes flicking over Jane Vera as if she were a masterpiece he’d personally commissioned, “with the whole upgrade, don’t you think she’s above my standard and a perfect match?”

The words hit me like a slap.

“She’s my fucking ex, Uncle!” The words tore out of me, raw and jagged. “Second-hand goods I already broke in. I can’t even count how many times I’ve had her and how many ways. And you… you don’t find that revolting? Screwing your own nephew’s leftovers?”

A collective gasp rolled through the ballroom like a shockwave.

Phones rose in slow motion.

Flashes detonated sharply and some faces froze in horror.

Others… Christ, some looked openly entertained.

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I turned to the crowd, raising my voice so every last guest, every hired photographer, and every whispering cousin would hear the poison I was about to spit.

“She seduced him on purpose,” I snarled, pointing at her like she was evidence in a crime scene. “This whore crawled into my uncle’s bed just to hurt me. She’s a gold-digging slut who’s been used up and thrown away and she’s definitely fucking out of your league, Caesar.”

The silence that followed was surgical.

Caesar didn’t blink and didn't flinch. His gaze drifted to me slowly, glacially, the kind of cold that makes your marrow ache. When he spoke, his voice was velvet wrapped around steel, quiet enough that the whole room had to strain to catch it.

“Out of my league?” he repeated, tasting the phrase like expensive wine. “Neven… she’s the only person here who isn’t.”

JaneVera! Jane whatever the hell she was calling herself tonight let the smallest, most devastating smile bloom across her lips. She leaned into him, her fingertips grazing the lapel of his black tuxedo, then slid higher, resting lightly over his heart like she’d already mapped every inch of him and found it hers.

And he let her. He fucking let her and the sight of her hand on him casual, intimate, earned sent something feral clawing up the back of my throat.

Beside me, Olivia had gone statue-still. Her entire body thrummed with fury and humiliation, nails gouging into my forearm until I felt the warm sting of blood under my sleeve.

Jane tilted her head, regarding me the way one studies me faintly, pitying, utterly done. “You look surprised, darling,” she murmured, voice low with the exact velvet register she used to purr when she wanted me on my knees, begging for mercy I never gave. “What’s wrong, Neven? Didn’t you believe me?”

Her eyes glittered, darkly, “About… any of it?”

The question floated between us and the worst, most sickening part?

I still didn’t know which impulse would win, the one that wanted to storm across the polished floor, rip her out of his arms, and drag her somewhere private where I could remind her who she used to belong to… or the darker one that craved watching Caesar dismantle her slowly, publicly, completely so I could finally stop pretending the thought of her with him didn’t set my blood on fire.

My throat closed.

Fuck. No. Not like this. Not with every eye in the room drinking it in.

The whispers were spreading now, fast and vicious, “They look… intimate.”

“The drama…God, it’s delicious.”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I thought trash was beneath your pay grade, Uncle. She’s going to ruin your life the same way she tried to ruin mine, plus, she doesn’t even like you. She’s just using you to get back at me!”

Caesar moved, barely half a step but just enough to place the broad line of his body between her and me.

“Neven,” he said, voice quiet, almost gentle, the way one speaks to a rabid dog before the muzzle goes on. “This isn’t the time. And you will not raise your voice to her again.”

The casual authority in his tone sucked the oxygen straight out of my lungs.

My uncle, my own fucking uncle, standing guard over her like she was something precious.

Jane’s lashes drifted down as a soft, breathy laugh escaped her, barely audible, yet it sliced through the room clearer than any scream.

“You should relax, Neven,” she said sweetly, the mockery so delicate it almost sounded like concern. “It’s your engagement night, after all. You should be… happy.”

I snarled, taking an involuntary step forward, Caesar’s hand lifted just two measured inches toward me like a warning while Olivia’s fingers clamped around my wrist like a vise, nails biting skin.

“Neven,” she hissed under her breath, voice trembling with fury and fear. “Stop. Everyone’s watching.”

I looked down at her, furious Olivia and then back at the woman who used to be mine. Jane was still tucked against Caesar’s side with the faintest curve of satisfaction on her lips and it was pretty clear to me she was doing this on purpose to hurt me because I chose Olivia over her. It wasn’t like I had any choice.

“You think this is funny?” I forced out, voice low and trembling despite every ounce of willpower I threw at it.

“Actually?” She answered softly, almost tenderly. “I think it’s perfect.”

Then she moved. Her fingers curled possessively around the lapel of Caesar’s tuxedo, and she tugged herself flush against him, close enough that her lips nearly brushed the skin of his throat when she spoke next.

“Now if you’ll excuse us,” she murmured, “we have a dance to finish… and I’ve been promised the rest of the night.”

Caesar’s arm slid around her waist, firm and proprietary. He guided her forward, steering her past me like I was furniture that had been moved out of the way.

She didn’t look back and the sight of her walking away snapped something vital inside my chest. I couldn’t let her leave like that. Not without one last wound.

I surged forward, voice cracking the air like a whip.

“She’s nothing but a whore who’s using you!” I shouted, loud enough that the quartet actually faltered mid-note.

JaneVera froze mid-step.

Fire ignited behind her eyes. She opened her mouth, ready to burn me alive, but Caesar was faster.

He turned his head just enough that the light caught the cold edge of his profile and when he spoke, his voice was a lethal whisper that somehow reached every corner of the vast, glittering room.

“Say that one more time, Neven,” he said, each syllable measured, deadly calm, “and I will make sure the rest of your pathetic life is spent regretting it.”

The threat landed like a guillotine blade and with no room for appeal.

I laughed anyway. Bittered and reckless. The laugh of a man who’s already lost everything and has nothing left to gamble.

“She…” I dragged the word out, slow and vicious, letting each syllable drip like venom, “....is nothing but a whore.”

The room froze as Caesar’s fist was already rising, promise of violence carved into every line of his face. I didn’t flinch, instead, I welcomed it.

Hit me. Lose control and prove in front of everyone that you’re the same ruthless animal I’ve always known lived under that tailored calm.