CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY FOUR – IN DEFENCE OF TRUE LOVE

"Oh no," was all Jasmine managed before the proverbial shitstorm was upon them. Mike didn't so much approach their tangled gathering as take physical possession of the negative space around their party, insinuating his considerable bulk like a belligerent battering ram through the assembled throngs. Several of the willow-thin creatives scattered like terrified mice upon impact with the Remington juggernaut. Clavering alone stood his ground, lips twisting in an expression of indignant outrage as Mike's shoulder clipped his own, sending him staggering back a step. "I say, sir – do watch where you're going!" the octogenarian bristled, jowls quivering with inebriated indignation. "This is a respectable event, not some backroom pugilistic scrum!" Mike answered the rebuke with an inarticulate growl, the sound low and thrumming with open menace as he raked the older man with a contemptuous glare. Jasmine quailed despite herself, flinching back from the simmering promise of the man's rest