Page 68 of His to Keep
Half an hour, tops. Any longer than that and he’d blow the fucking deal to smithereens.
Her eyes ripped away from his face. “Right. Business,” she muttered. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Emilio cleared his throat loudly. “Hey, baby. Let’s get a drink,” he called with cool impatience in his voice.
His greedy gaze lowered to the minimal fabric hugging her plump breasts and his eyes darkened to a shade of green like sodden moss.
“Enjoy your evening, Marcus. Please excuse me, my date is waiting.” She daintily batted her eyelashes and forced a sweet smile.
His gaze lingered on the sway of her hips as she sashayed towards Emilio with sexy confidence.
Marcus remembered every curve, every dimple, every inch of her bountiful figure. The smoking hot dress had the desired effect, making his dick throb.
Each sacred section of her flesh was branded onto his brain, scorched into his mind for eternity, creating an erotic map of her sexy body that was stored in his memory bank.
Lana was perfect. A rarity he never knew existed. The calm to his wild, the serenity to his storm and tonight he was going to explain everything. As soon as Falcone signed the contract.
Patience wasn’t a quality he would claim to have. His stomach clenched with frustration. He wanted to halt her retreat and kiss her juicy red lips until she breathed in all the air from his lungs.
Marcus was used to getting what he wanted, no matter the cost. But this time he couldn’t fuck up his brothers long awaited plans. Truthfully, business was just business at the end of the day.
He couldn’t give two fucks if Emilio bailed on the deal like a churlish schoolgirl, but Jamie was family, he was blood. He wasn’t going to be a selfish prick. Lana would understand, and if she didn’t, he’d damn well make her.
He stood in silence, a deep anger rose like hackles. He watched her peachy ass swagger over to Emilio’s side. Emilio’s beige chinos clung to the large bulge between his legs, and he wore a girly pink shirt, unbuttoned at the neck with dark tufts sprouting from his tanned chest.
He slotted her hand in his and tugged her close. She crashed into his washboard abs and giggled quietly.
Marcus chewed the inside of his mouth and stuffed his hands in his jeans. He hated that she laughed for him. He detested that she wanted him and he loathed that his fucking lips landed on her cheek.
He reiterated the reason why he was waiting.
Half an hour—for Jamie.
His stomach knotted and a pain in his chest magnified how much of an idiot he’d been. He stormed past Emilio’s show of affection and didn’t look back.
“Jamie.” He grabbed his brother’s elbow. “Get it sorted now. Before I kill Emilio and ruin the deal.”
“Jeez, Marcus. Settle down. He’s only arrived. I’ve got it covered.” Jamie patted his brother’s shoulder. “Maria has the contract. She’s on her way.”
* * *
“You look sensational, Lana.”Emilio’s eyes twinkled. “Let me see that sexy ass.” He raised his hand and spun her underneath his arm in slow motion.
The dress gave her an air of sexual confidence, a feeling she had lacked for too long. He nodded in acceptance, sporting a sly smile that gave away the unsavoury acts he was clearly imagining.
She placed her hand in the crook of his arm. His long legs took one step for every two of hers. The bar was occupied by a group of males lined up on bar stools, communicating flamboyantly with their hands.
Without asking her choice of drink, Emilio ordered a flute of champagne and pointed to a bottle of scotch on a high glass shelf.
His quick decision to supply her with champagne niggled in her belly. She liked gin and champagne gave her a death like hangover. She brushed his misdemeanour aside and plastered a fake smile over her uncertainty.
“The McGrath boys certainly know how to make a fine scotch.” He winked with a devilish glint in his eyes.
Leaning forward, his lips paused at her ear lobe. “I’d like to see that dress on my bedroom floor,” he said thickly. His cinnamon breath sparked a subtle shiver.
His Italian accent was super sexy and his masculine citrus smell was fresh and inviting. She peeked up at him through her thick lashes.
“Play your cards right and you can tear it off me later,” she said throatily, in a half attempt to coax herself into the idea of taking the evening one step further.
