Jefferson's POV
"No."
The word hit Selene like a physical blow. Her confident smirk crumbled, leaving behind raw shock. Her perfectly glossed lips parted, and those meticulously sculpted eyebrows drew together in disbelief.
"No?" The word came out as barely more than a whisper, as if she couldn't comprehend such defiance.
"Should I speak slower?" I drawled, letting mockery drip from every syllable. "I warned you once, Selene. Cross that line again, and there won't be a second warning. Now get out."
She blinked rapidly, clearly struggling to process the dismissal. Then her mask of composure slammed back into place. Her spine straightened, chin jutting forward with renewed arrogance. "You came to meet me here, Jefferson. Me. This establishment caters to people of breeding and class. If anyone doesn't belong, it's you."
