4
Lana held the red wallet that contained her contract, bank account details, medical reports and a confidentiality agreement.
Bingham was surprised she didn’t want to hook up with him. He’d marched off like a brat who didn’t get a new toy.
A chill skittered down her spine, recalling his pokey eyes trailing over her body. Rory had no idea that she’d been sent upstairs to talk over their contract.
The fact he had disappeared without uttering a word left her a little unnerved. It was so easy for him to slip away, with someone else, no looking back, and no loving kisses to make sure she was okay.
Now she was standing in a luxurious office suite, facing the high back of a chair. Large windows framed the orange-hued sky, glowing from the street lights below.
The Harland and Wolff canary yellow cranes, known as Samson and Goliath, dominated the Belfast skyline. Leaning forward, she tossed the file down on the desk.
Only an iPhone, a desk lamp and an empty glass occupied the space. The folder skated across the sleek surface, slipping off the edge, each page gliding to the dark carpet below.
“What the…” The man jumped up with the energy of a panther, spinning around to face her.
Her eyes widened like saucers. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Her fingers flew up to her mouth.
Holy. Shit!
He was the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on. A navy waistcoat clung to his broad shoulders, tailored perfectly to fit his solid torso.
Poking through the crisp white unbuttoned collar was bronzed glowing skin. Dark inky stubble sprinkled his strong jaw, shaved hair above his ears lead to a mound of slick coal-coloured hair at the top.
Intense emerald green eyes were all over her.
Slowly, he crouched, his gaze never left hers as he gathered the papers. “Ms. Craig?” His voice was deep and sexy.
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, clenching her small bag under her bicep. “I’m with Rory O’Hare. He’s my boyfriend—the one who talked me into this shit.” Alcohol pumped around her veins in a rush to reach her brain.
He raised a sceptical eyebrow letting his eyes dawdle on her skin-tight black dress that was laden with lace to the knees and a plunging neckline hugging her ample breasts.
This man exuded power as he stood, legs slightly apart, silently surveying her with a sweep of those dazzling green eyes of his. Her insides heated, matching the rosy pink glow of her cheeks.
“And you read the contract, Ms. Craig?” He lightly drummed his fingers on the paper.
She pulled her shoulders back and let out a soft sigh. “Uh…no, not really.” Her voice sounded strained, holding back her nerves. “Rory just got me to sign it and then told me a bit about the rules, but I didn’t think it was that serious.”
He cleared his throat as she wobbled, her stiletto heels indenting the plush granite carpet. “Do you often break the rules, Ms. Craig?” His dangerous gaze paused at her parted lips.
Lana’s heart slammed against her sternum. Each quickened breath visibly expanded her chest. Swallowing hard, she tried to generate moisture.
Her tongue peeked out of her mouth as she licked her lips, tasting sweet strawberry gloss.
Her eyes narrowed, recalling Benny Bingham’s suggestion. “That guy made my skin crawl. That’s not what I signed up for.” With a flick, she tossed a length of hair over her shoulder and stood her ground.
“How would you know what you signed?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “A contract is binding and should always be read prior to signing. You could have sold your soul to the devil, Ms. Craig.”
Lana’s chin dipped and she gulped, loud enough for him to hear her swallow. Her lashes fluttered as she inhaled a long breath.
After a few seconds, her gaze floated up to his handsome face. His eyes sparkled in the light with golden flecks glistening like fiery sparks.
They were fascinating. “So are you the Devil, Mr. …um?” She waited.
The corners of his mouth curved upward in a lazy smirk. “Yeah,” he said in sultry timbre. “You can call me Marcus, Ms. Craig. And you’re in trouble.”
She could see why Janice had been so enthralled by him. He was the epitome of ruggedly handsome, wearing a fitted suit that moulded the shape of his body to precision.