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Nathan looked like a wreck—unshaven, eyes full of red veins, his Armani suit wrinkled, tie crooked.
He rushed to our table and swung a fist at Alexander.
Alexander dodged effortlessly to the side and twisted Nathan's wrist behind his back.
"Elena, who is he?" Nathan demanded, his voice hoarse. "Why are you with him? Did you leave me for him?"
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