23
Aweek had passed, and Rory remarkably returned home from work, most evenings. He arranged to take Lana out for dinner mid-week so they could spend some quality time together.
He chose her favourite French restaurant with a shabby chic décor and Parisian ambiance, as close to Paris as Belfast would allow.
The cladded walls were a smoky grey, cluttered with varying frames showcasing French landmarks. They were seated around a table with mismatched chairs. Fairy lights twinkled majestically overhead, and the flame of a candle danced as the centrepiece.
Lana studied the list of dishes. “Oh, the Cassoulet sounds delicious.” She licked her lips and smiled over the top of the menu.
Rory grinned. “I’m going for the 40 Day Dry Aged Beef. Then you can have some of my beef later.” He chuckled, grabbing her hand over the table. “You look good, Lan.”
She rolled her eyes and smirked. Low lighting shadowed his sharp features. Tonight, he was attentive and funny, loving and considerate. The way he used to be in the early stages of their relationship—the guy she fell in love with.
So far, the evening was perfect. He wore a dark green shirt to suit his complexion and touched her at every opportunity.
She remembered all the reasons why they were together in the first place. When he focused his attention on her, he was charming and sexy.
“We need to talk.” She fiddled with the napkin.
He lowered the menu and narrowed his eyes. “Sounds serious?”
“It is… kind of.” Their future depended on this conversation. “I don’t want to go back to Verto Veneri,” she whispered, holding he hand up for privacy, screening her mouth.
His eyes glistened as he listened, the light flickering in his unreadable gaze. Slowly, one corner of his lips curved to a half smile. “I know, babe. I got the feeling it wasn’t for you. How about we forget the whole thing?”
Her heartbeat skipped. “Really? You’d be happy to leave it, for me, for us?”
He shrugged half-heartedly. “Sure. I don’t want to lose you, babe. So I’ll do whatever it takes.” His thumb rubbed over the top of her hand. “On one condition though.” He took a deep intentional breath. “Don’t give me hassle when I stay out with the guys. I deserve to let off steam, Lana. It’s important to me.”
Rory was giving up the very thing they’d talked about for months. And now he was happily giving it all up because it wasn’t right for her.
A niggle of guilt crept into her chest. She’d been tempted. Enticed by another man—a man she hadn’t quite forgotten.
While Rory ordered, she stared out of the window and wondered how long it would take to conquer the seeds of lust growing more toxic by the day.
Marcus plagued her dreams and consumed her waking thoughts.
It had been an unbearable torture, constantly thinking about his kissable lips, his commanding touch, never mind the shivery recollection of his torso with a disciplined landscape of muscles.
All she craved was a filthy release, with him. A way to banish the desire eating her like a disease.
Her insides flipped as her imagination took a turn in the wrong direction. Rather than fantasising about her boyfriend, she was clenching her thighs over another man.
She wanted to fuck Marcus until the sun came up.
Her fingers splayed her heart when Rory ducked into her line of vision. “We’ll work it out, Lan.”
Only a naive fool would think Marcus was a long term prospect. Sex was sex. Love had nothing to do with it.
The wealthy playboy wasn’t chasing her anymore, taking her to dinner in her favourite restaurant, building a future with her—loving her.
Rory was her happily ever after.
Nudging the stem of her wine glass, she feigned a sweet smile to guard her straying thoughts. If they continued to visit the club, it would ruin a happy home.
“I want this to work too, Rory. You know I don’t care if you go out with the guys. Just promise me I’m what you really need.”
“You are, babe. You’re exactly what I need to come home to.”