His body radiated a subtle tension as he sat next to her, and she knew it had to do with the effect she had on him. Every time the conversation moved to a subject that was inconsequential and didn't take his whole concentration, his hand moved to her thigh where he clenched his fingers around her flesh, causing invisible tremors to pass down her spine.
As soon as the last speech was over and the band began to strike up, he turned to her, his dark eyes running over her and then searching her expression. "Do you want to stay and dance or can we get out of here?"
She swallowed hard and felt as if she were drowning under his spell. Oh, she wanted to go--the sooner the better. Her answer was cut off in her throat by an older couple, well into their seventies, as they walked to their table and turned Marco's attention from her. He stood, shook the man's hand, and kissed the papery cheek of the older woman with an actual smile on his face that radiated true warmth.
"Mona--George. Nice to see you. I'd like you to meet Natalie Lambert." He pulled Natalie from her seat by the hand until she stood next to him. "Natalie, this is George and Mona Lancaster, my favorite clients." He said this last bit with a smile and a shot of what to Natalie sounded like tenderness toward the older couple, and her insides melted a bit.
Mona Lancaster was smiling, a knowing, almost maternal smile as she held out her hand to Natalie. "Nice to meet you, dear."
"You, too," Natalie responded as she shook their hands.
"We've been doing business with Donati's since the early seventies--before you were even born. Isn't that right, Marco?"
"Yes, sir, it is--with my grandfather," Marco said to clarify the age and the depth of the relationship to Natalie. "How have you both been?"
"Just fine. My hip is acting up some--but we deal with it, don't we, sweetheart?" The older man answered.
Mona Lancaster smiled in her husband's direction. "Yes, we do." A wistful expression crossed her face as the band broke into the tunes of a waltz. "But I do miss dancing."
Natalie was conscious of Marco's attention on the couple. "I'd love to dance with you, Mona--if your husband doesn't mind?" His words were chivalrous, and Natalie felt a streak of pleasurable surprise at this continued side of Marco that she'd never seen.
"No, sir, I don't mind. I'll sit for a spell and keep your young lady company."
Marco turned to Natalie. "Is that all right?"
She smiled at all three. "Yes, of course."
George Lancaster held her chair and she sat down. They turned their attention to the dance floor and watched the other two dancing as they spoke of inconsequential things until another man walked up next to them.
"George."
George Lancaster looked up from his chair and Natalie could see a dark cloud pass over his face. "Kennedy," he acknowledged the man with a flat voice.
The man called Kennedy looked away from George Lancaster and his eyes fell on hers. "Introduce us, please."
Natalie felt Mr. Lancaster stiffen beside her. "Natalie, this is Mathew Kennedy--Kennedy--Natalie Lambert. She's with Marco--so be warned."
Mathew Kennedy reached for her hand and Natalie had little option but to give it to him. As his palm touched hers, a small shudder of revulsion ran through her that she desperately tried to hide.
"Since when does Donati care about sharing his women?" Natalie knew he asked the question of Mr. Lancaster, but he pulled her from her seat and his eyes stayed on hers as he asked it. A dark spiral of dread landed sharply in her stomach from the strange question. She had no choice but to stand as the power of his arm was unrelenting. "But first I'll just dance with her."
He talked about her--but not to her, and nerves rushed up Natalie's throat and it took everything she had not to physically snatch her hand away from his. As it was, she couldn't help but giving it a slight tug.
She didn't have to tug for long as she saw Marco coming up behind the man who held her in his grip--a Marco with an expression on his face like she'd never seen before. He swung Mona in George's direction and released her as soon as the other man had a steadying hold on his wife. Immediately, Marco put a detaining hand on Kennedy's arm and hissed in a voice furious and loud enough that Natalie very much feared Mrs. Lancaster couldn't have failed to hear. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Calm down, Donati--I'm going to dance with--the new girl."
"Not happening--hands off--Now."
Natalie stood frozen as Mathew Kennedy's eyes narrowed on Marco and then turned to look at her--really look at her--with a question in his eyes. But he released her hand and turned back to Marco. "Hands off?"
Marco ignored his question and reached around and encapsulated Natalie's wrist and swung her behind him, holding her completely out of sight of Mathew Kennedy. Marco looked past him and focused on the Lancasters. "Goodnight. It was good seeing you again. Mona--you look lovely as always."
With that, he swung around and began exiting the room, all but dragging Natalie with him.
Within moments, she was led to the waiting car and ushered into the backseat with Marco, the privacy screen once again drawn up, providing an enclosure for them, away from the driver. She scrambled to the far side of the seat, and busied herself with the seatbelt as Marco stared out of his window, his fingers tapping against his forehead as if in deep thought--or pain.
The car slipped away from the curb. "Who was that man?"
"Nobody." His voice was terse.
"While you were on the dance floor he said--something about--sharing--women. What did he mean?"
His head turned and his eyes fell sharply on hers. "Nothing--don't worry about him. Put it out of your mind. He's nobody--nobody who will ever get close to you again."
"Marco, you didn't hear him. You weren't on the receiving end of his touch. I--I can't get mixed up in anything--anything--I'm having a really bad feeling in my stomach right now. Sharing--"
He cut off her rambling words when his hand lifted and wrapped around her wrist. "Natalie--shut up and calm down."
Her eyes held his for only a second as they welled with tears and she broke contact, looking away from him.
His grip tightened on her wrist and he pulled her arm in a bid for her attention. She raised her eyes to his once more. When he spoke, his voice was rough. "Understand this--I'll never share you with anyone--ever. Not in a million fucking years. You're mine--and we're going to cement that agreement in about half an hour. After that--nobody will touch you--they might try--but they'll live to regret it. So you need to put all that other shit from your mind. I'm not claiming I've been a boy scout all my life--but when it comes to you--somebody tries to touch you--I'll murder them in cold blood."