She looked up at the young waiter. “Just one for now. I’ll go with the Raspberry Rose Gin, and please, make sure you use the McGrath Gin. Thank you.”
The waiter tilted his head forward with a gentle nod. “Sì signora, nothing but the best.”
Marcus ordered without a second thought. “Whiskey on the rocks.”
She eyed him as he quietly browsed the menu, a moment to herself to absorb the situation. There he was, in front of her, an alluring man who could have any woman he wanted—and he chose her.
Plain and simple Lana. She felt like pinching herself to prove she was actually with the man of her dreams, the man who scattered chills across her skin with just one look.
He glanced up from the menu. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Rory. Do you still love him?”
Her brow creased, and she inhaled sharply. “Not in that way.” She paused. “It was wrong of me to accept his marriage proposal.”
“It was wrong of him to ask you to marry him, when he was banging Jacqueline behind your back,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I guess I was settling. The guy I wanted was a bit of a playboy who only wanted me for sex.”
“It wasn’t just sex.”
“Yes, it was!”
“Okay. Maybe in the beginning,” he conceded.
She fiddled with the edge of the menu. “It’s different with you. It always has been. We have a deeper connection.”
He grinned. “Like none other.” Taking a deep breath, his words waited in his throat for a few seconds. “He’ll, no doubt, want to reach out to you, Lana, now he’s out of prison.”
Her shoulders slowly raised to her ears. “Does that bother you?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to make sure he’s okay, but that’s all. There’s nothing left between Rory and I, Marcus. I’ve paid for trying to help him, especially after what he did to me when we were together. I don’t think I need to see him again. That’s all in the past now, where it belongs.”
The corners of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smirk of relief. He nodded. “That’s fucking good to know, beautiful.”
Lana took a deep quiet breath of contemplation. “Did you really come out to Italy for me, or to help Jamie?”
Marcus sighed. “He told me you were in Italy, at Villa Veronica, and all I could think about was coming out here to see you again.”
“I didn’t have a nightmare last night. I hate that bastard Carl.” Her voice cracked.
The emotion in his eyes roiled like the stormy seas. “You don’t have to worry about him, Lana. He’s history. You have my word on that. It’s over.”
Lingering uncertainty swirled in her chest. “How did he get out of prison?”
His back seemed to straighten with slight unease, and his shoulders pulled back like a secret was trying to escape from his chest.
“Marcus?” A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed loudly as he let out a steadying breath.
He drummed the table with his fingers. “He had contacts everywhere. After he was released, he murdered Donna Marie. The sick fuck shaved off her hair and scattered it around her house,” he said solemnly. “The police found another girl, drugged up and beaten. They showed her a picture of Carl and she confirmed he kidnapped her.”
Her hands flew to her cheeks. “You’re fucking kidding me. Donna Marie is dead? Jesus Christ, Marcus, when the hell were you going to tell me.” Her voice cracked when she scrunched the linen napkin in her fists.
“Lana,” he hissed. “I didn’t want to put you through anymore shit. I didn’t tell you he was out because I didn’t want you to worry. Carl won’t hurt anyone, ever again. Jaqueline’s husband took care of it.”
