He covered the carpet underfoot, his designer brogues not making a sound. Every self-assurance stride brought the threat of his charm closer, and that amazing smell of seduction.
After all this time, they were alone together again. A suffocating silence swallowed her composure. Her heart rate went from a stutter to a sprint, bouncing off her ribs and tiny black smudges floated past her eyes.
“Marcus.” She gulped, her mouth drained of saliva. “I’m here with colleagues from work.”
She fumbled with the mobile phone to make sure it was turned off. As she did so, the twinkle from her engagement ring caught her eye. Immediately, the hand wearing the ring dropped to her hip.
“I didn’t think you’d be here, Marcus.” As the words rolled from her tongue, they sounded thoughtless—they were in his hotel.
He exhaled a quick puff of air and she knew whiskey laced his lips. “Congratulations on your engagement. I hope the two of you will be very happy together.” His tone dropped a few degrees, bordering on frosty.
“Oh.” Lana swallowed with a loud gulp. His stance widened and his hands slid into his trouser pockets. “How did you know?”
The green of his eyes didn’t sparkle, they turned dark and cold like a forest in the dead of night. His gaze cut to the three diamonds on her left hand and his body language said it all.
Instinctively, her right hand grabbed her left, covering the ring.
“Did you have a good time in Marbella?” Her jealousy spilled out for them both to hear. “I saw a picture of you partying.” She was trying so very hard to keep her cool, even though her stomach clenched and her heart pounded.
He bowed his head. “A picture can say a thousand words, Lana.”His husky cadence clung to her name in an oh-so-sexy way, making her squirm.
Crossing her chest, she tightened her arms in a self-hug. “So you weren’t in Marbella, on a boat, with three half naked girls?”
A smile played on his lips. “Well, if you put it that way, then yeah. I was.”
Removing his hand from his pocket, he flicked his wrist and checked his gold watch. “I have a meeting to attend. Enjoy your evening.” His jaw ticked, working the muscles on each side. “It was good to see you. My driver is waiting.”
“Your driver? I thought you liked to drive?” She took a quiet, controlled breath.
“I should go." He turned away. “Goodbye, Lana.”
He was saying goodbye, for good. Lana opened her mouth to speak but her hysterical thoughts couldn’t cobble together a sentence.
The urge to scream at him, grab his strong arms and stop him from leaving compelled her to tilt forward, but she didn’t utter a single word.
She needed to feel his beautiful lips on hers all over again, to taste his intoxicating manliness, to drag her fingers through his silky hair and feel his hungry hands on every inch of her body.
Instead, she silently watched him saunter to the door and vanish.
It was a gut-wrenching sight that she was now very familiar with. Marcus had the same effect on her, that same captivating pull that stopped her in her tracks like a defenceless animal in front of head lights.
From the minute their paths crossed, Lana was consumed by him. And she was marrying a man who’s presence paled in comparison.
Her whole body shook with adrenaline, her mind twisted with confusion. She half ran, and half walked back to the table. Her head and heart were out of control as she threw herself into the booth and hoisted the bottle of Prosecco out of the ice, filling her glass to the top.
She drained the contents in a long guzzle without coming up for air.
“Jeez, Lan, you’re white as ghost and unusually thirsty. Is everything okay with Rory?” Amanda’s hand curled her arm and squeezed.
Lana forced a wide smile. “Yeah, all good, I’m so glad to be out. This is a celebration, let me top up your drink.”
As they clinked glasses, a short tawny-haired bartender approached the table, with two golden magnums of champagne.
He cleared his throat. “These are compliments of Mr. McGrath. He informed us that, Ms. Craig is celebrating her engagement tonight. Congratulations!”
There was silence as the group stared at Lana, her cheeks flaming. “Thank you.”
She recognised the bottle of champagne, with the black Ace of Spades, the same Armand De Brignac that she drank in his apartment when they had lunch together a few weeks ago.