Harvey keeps the glass of whiskey at his lips, refraining from taking a sip, completely engrossed in watching Donna gracefully dance with another man. The man is no stranger to him, a client who spent plenty of money to organize this high-profile business gala. Clive Weissman.
Clive asked Donna for a dance, and of course she said yes, and Harvey has no issue with her saying yes, because she might be Mrs. Specter, but she's also still a Paulsen.
And there's no way she'd let him control her actions, allowing him to treat her like property, and there's no way Harvey would even demand to have that claim on her. Plus, Weissman's relationship with the firm is too important to mess up on trivial notions like dances.
The logical side of him knows there's nothing to worry about. Donna is his wife, and he trusts her implicitly. But now he has to stand on the sidelines and watch her sway to the music with someone else.
Entangled in a soft embrace, their bodies try to find a way to communicate with each other on the dance floor. It works beautifully, Harvey notices, much to his dismay. Donna knows how to work a floor with any partner.
They look like the perfect couple—no missteps, an undeniable chemistry between them that sends sparks flying all across the room and right in his face.
He rolls his eyes at that observation, swallowing the raw emotions burning in his stomach. Of course, she has to have the grace of a ballerina across the floor, waltzing with prince charming and stealing the attention of every attendee at this shindig.
The guy opens his mouth, purring something sweet into Donna's ear that makes her giggle, and Harvey huffs out a breath in annoyance as the corners of his mouth slowly curl downwards, scornfully.
God, does her smile have to be so attractive, so sincere that anyone who sees it will just automatically fall a little bit in love with her? He can't let that happen.
He finishes his drink in one gulp, keeping his eyes fixed on the dancing couple. Maybe it was just small talk, but then why did her face light up like that?
Why did her smile turn up a notch, her eyes sparkle just a tiny bit, and he swears he sees the wrinkles of her genuine laugh lines pop up all of a sudden—or maybe he's simply overreacting? Yeah, that must be it.
Harvey places the glass down on the counter with a light bang and grabs the lapels of his suit, smoothing them down. He starts toying with the wedding ring on his finger, twisting it back and forth, sliding it up to the base knuckle and back down again.
Although he knows he has nothing to worry about, seeing Donna locked that tightly in another man's embrace makes his stomach turn. She might not see it this way, but that guy is a schmuck, an idiot, and Harvey can sense it all the way from where he stands.
He considers himself quite the expert on masking his feelings—in front of strangers, certainly not Donna—and if he made a genuine effort, he could probably keep his cool until the song they're dancing to hits the last note. But the sight of his wife with another man is slowly becoming too much.
Harvey approaches the pair, itching to interrupt what's happening between them on the dance floor. He wants to pretend it doesn't bother him, like he hasn't been watching them intently for the last few minutes, seething with jealousy.
Except when when he walks up to them, and sees just how enamored Clive is in his wife's appearance, and just how close his hands are to resting on her lower back inappropriately, he sees red.
He coughs and clears his throat in a dramatic effort to compose himself, and Donna's eyes immediately dart to him. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'd really like to dance with my wife now."
The emphasis he puts on the word that ties Donna to him is accompanied by a stupid, superior grin and an arrogant look on his face that has smugness written all over it.
In fact, he is bathing in his smugness like a pig in slurry, and Donna can't help but grin sheepishly at that, despite her eyes clearly warning him to behave with their most important donor.
"Of course, she's all yours." Clive briskly states, handing her over to Harvey.
Prick, Harvey thinks to himself before sliding Donna's hand in his.
As they begin to sway to the music, with Donna feeling every bit as right in Harvey's arms, their chests touching, her head resting in the crook of his neck, she whispers, "Don't think I don't know what brought you to this floor. And don't think I'm not teasing you about this later."
Harvey stiffens for a nano-second at getting caught acting jealous, before he calms down and realizes there is no harm in her finally knowing her husband cares enough to be jealous over her.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he feigns innocence before dipping her in his arms, letting a giggle fall out of her.
