Tyrone glanced at the furious Alexander, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction; then he added another infuriating comment, “After all, you’re my friend. It’s only fair I let you meet her.”
Alexander was so angry he could barely contain himself. “Gentlemen don’t steal their friend’s love. I met Monica first. Tyrone, this move of yours, isn’t it a bit despicable?”
Knowing full well that she's his woman, yet still trying to snatch her away. Besides despicable, he couldn't think of any other words.
Tyrone’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, “I don’t know who this Monica is. I’m talking about Quintessa. And besides, you knew her first? That’s not necessarily true. Do you know why she went to Serenitia three years ago? Or what kind of men she’s been with? Well, I do. The man she was with three years ago was me, because she and I slept together. We were caught in the act, and the Young family banished her there. Otherwise, do you think you’d have met her?”
Tyrone’s expression was unabashedly boastful, boasting that he knew Quintessa before Alexander did, boasting that he had a fling with Quintessa three years ago.
His look seemed to say: I didn't say anything about you stealing what's mine, I've already given you face.
“Tyrone!”
Tyrone lifted his chin, “Doubting my word? You can ask her yourself if I was her first man. Now, who do you think is stealing their friend's love?”
The thought of Alexander and Quintessa meeting in Serenitia was a thorn in Tyrone’s heart.
He wasn't comfortable, and he couldn't let Alexander feel comfortable either. So he was determined to catch him off guard today.
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