Chapter Nine

Just like he had felt ten years ago, Shawn felt a pang of hurt and pain seeing Ivan making out with the woman he was sure was his fiancée. He hated that he felt this way with just one action from Ivan; this wasn't the new plan.

The supposed plan was to ignore Ivan throughout the party, pretend he wasn't there, flaunt his fake boyfriend in his face unbothered, and head back to France like he never came. But it now looked as though the opposite was happening. Instead, it's Ivan flaunting his fiancée right in his face, kissing her passionately, knowing he might be watching, and fuck yes! He had been watching.

He had been watching Ivan's every move ever since he laid eyes on him.

He had been watching the way he smiled, his dimples appearing cutely on his cheeks.

He had been watching the way he held the champagne glass. Heck! A silly thought had crossed his mind, hoping it was his cock Ivan was gripping that way instead.

"Get a grip of yourself, Shawn Maddox," he chastised himself, hating