Ian took one look in the direction his friend was pointing to and felt his blood boil. He did not have to see the woman's face to know who she was, he had stared at that body long enough to know who it belonged to; it was Mina. He had dreamed about her, he had held her in his arms, and he had seen her with nothing covering her persons.
Ian was not angry that Mina was at the event, he was angry with the attention she was getting from others. The black dress she was wearing wrapped her body so closely that Ian could clearly see how perfect her figure was. To Ian, it did little to hide what had been his before he threw it away, but that did not mean he wanted others to see. He had once felt that way about the white dress she wore to a charity event, but for some reason, the one she was wearing now seemed worse.
