Daniel’s POV

My memory flushed of Serena’s cheeks in Cartier, her awe at the glittering displays, clashed with the saleswoman’s disrespectful dismissal in Chanel. That bitch’s faint sneer, the way she’d slid the pink flap bag away from Serena like she was some thief, had lit a fuse in me.

Serena might brush it off, but I wasn’t letting it slide. Nobody disrespected her, not on my watch. Her footsteps hurried behind me, her voice rising, “Daniel, stop! It’s not worth it!” But ...