“Hi,” she managed to mutter before her eyes flicked back to Marcus.
“We were about to have lunch.” Marcus jammed his hands into his pockets, upholding his usual casual sexy stance.
Her wicked cackle packed a cruel punch and was crammed with an intentionally demeaning rasp.
“Of course. Once you have finished yourbusiness,we can get a few drinks together. I take it you’re staying at Veronica. I’ll head there now and see you once this…” She waved her hand in Lana’s direction. “…is done with.”
How the hell does she know about Villa Veronica? Has she been there before?
Marcus nudged Natasha’s elbow, beckoning her to the side of the restaurant. There were hushed words. Natasha glanced over, once, then twice and then finally turned her back to Lana.
Suddenly, the charming restaurant didn’t seem so appealing. Her appetite all but dwindled and her happiness sunk to the pit of doom. Something wasn’t right, and Marcus was hiding it, or her.
She needed room to breathe—away from Marcus and his captivating hold that sucked her in every time. She knew her insecurity was the very thing that pushed him away before and she wasn’t about to show him how much their interaction was crushing her heart.
Escaping the restaurant, Lana bolted down the cobbled pathway and away from their cosy chat. Rationality had fallen flat on its face.
Lana couldn’t let him see her fall apart again.
37
The brief conversation between Natasha and Marcus ended abruptly when he glanced back to the table, finding Lana’s seat empty.
“Fuck!” he growled, startling the relaxed diners.
Natasha snatched her sunglasses from the table and quickly covered her misted eyes. She joined his side, leaning closer with a hint of hope shadowing hurt.
“Have your fun, McGrath.” Her saccharin sweet smile angered him even more. “I know you. You’ll forget her by next week.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” he snapped back.
Weaving past the tables, he darted down the pathway leading to the helipad and caught sight of Lana grappling with the passenger door of the small aircraft. The propellers were stationary and the cockpit was empty.
“What the hell are you doing?” He stormed towards her with warning bells ringing in his head.
Lana spun around with red eyes and pink cheeks. “I want to go back.” She choked back a sob. “Please. I’m feeling a little unwell.”
He stepped forward, overwhelming her personal space.
“Please, get someone to take us away from here.” Tears pooled in her eyes.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stood patiently, mustering every ounce of restraint. “What’s wrong?” he asked calmly.
Lana puffed air from her open mouth. “Nothing.” Lingering dread kept her hands clenched and her shoulder stiff.
“Lana?” He reached forward.
She sucked in a ragged breath with her tucked chin down, keeping her eyes low. “That woman. She knew you pretty well, like you’d been together,” she said quietly.
His brow creased. “She’s an old friend.”
Her pretty face was so perfect. Her bright blue eyes glistened behind a watery sheen as she stared up at him.
She was lost but lustful, sexy but shy. “She doesn’t look old!” Lana snipped, lowering her gaze to her twisted hands.
“Lana...” His stance widened. “You have no need to be jealous.”
This was it, he had to get through this, he had to find a way to figure it out. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her walk away this time.
