Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 2(107)

“Listen to yourself, Mark,” Keyonna said in exasperation, glad for the noise all around them keeping her from whispering. She smiled slightly to try to ease the sting of her words. “You’re talking about getting married like its some ordeal. “Get it over with.” She was shaking her head at him. “Look, it’s not too soon; it’s too late. I simply don’t love you anymore. Too much has happened while you’ve been away.”

Keyonna flinched to see the way he seemed to slump at her words, his shoulders bent within the impeccable cut of his dinner jacket. She was unable to meet his dismayed gaze and looked away quickly, only for her eyes to clash and hold with those of a man seated just across from them on another sofa.

He was nursing a bourbon in his hand; sitting back casually while on his face was a distinct look of contempt.

Keyonna recognized him instantly.

His name was Nick Vitale, whose family owned half the city in terms of real estate development. In her line of work she had come in contact with him on occasion. Their encounters were always brief and strictly business especially when Keyonna had been working as an intern with Irma Orsino’s renowned design firm.

Keyonna felt a jolt at seeing him, but even more so she was surprised by the antagonism she always seemed to sense coming from him and directed at her each time they met. She’d always had the distinct impression he disliked her for some reason. She’d never let it bother her before and yet now his unconcealed distaste turned her blood cold.

Well she couldn’t say she was a fan of his either.

Rich as the devil, unbearably arrogant and handsome to a fault, he’d struck her early on as a man to avoid at any cost judging by the edge of steel she sensed in his personality.

From the little she knew about him, he seemed to be from one of those mafia-type Italian American crime families - but without the crime. They ran legitimate trading from the high-flying skyscrapers of Wall Street to Texas oil fields to real estate.

That evening, Nick Vitale was dressed in a dark jacket, white shirt and grey tie, looking even more gorgeous than ever. Which was no surprise because Keyonna had long ago – grudgingly – admitted to herself that he was undoubtedly the best looking man she’d ever seen.

It wasn’t that hard to see why; considering how women’s eyes followed him wherever he was though only a few had the guts to come closer. He had the kind of physical presence that would be hard to ignore; his face finely chiseled in jaw, forehead and nose. His eyes were dark brown and sinfully lush, hair equally dark with thick, unapologetically wavy locks – and a gorgeously tan skin that could only have come from his known Italian legacy. And all this encased in a superbly well-kept frame that was both athletic and masterly from his broad shoulders and torso to his trim lower half.

Truly a hunk in every sense of the word - if only he didn’t always look at her like she’d crawled from beneath a rock. So even as she caught her breath in awareness of his utter masculinity which he conveyed so effortlessly, at the same time his expression started to penetrate her.

She had a sinking sensation he may have overheard something of their conversation and her face went hot with anger and mortification before she became chilled beneath the cold condemnation in his laser-like gaze.

Mark, however, was totally unaware of Nick Vitale’s presence just seated yards from them. Keyonna forcefully returned her attention to Mark, wanting to kick herself for letting the other man get to her. Swearing to ignore him, she met Mark’s troubled gaze.

“But…I don’t get it,” Mark was saying, looking like the whole building had collapsed around them. His creamy complexioned face was twisted with emotion, and his eyes grew earnest. “I mean, I know this is hardly the time or place to bring this up, but I couldn’t help but say how I feel. I wanted to wait until we had some time alone before I sprung the question, but the moment you walked in tonight and I saw you, it became impossible to hold back. I can tell this seems far from romantic, especially without a ring but we can fix that detail as soon as you like. You can pick out the most fabulous diamond you could ever wish for. I’ve never been really good at showing emotions or being romantic, but I'm not ashamed to confess that I never stopped loving you, Keyonna.”

His tone rang with heart-felt depth as he grasped her hands in his. “You’ve got to believe me. It’s the memories of the happy times we shared that kept me going all that time I was stuck in some hellhole in Afghanistan. And now you’re saying you don’t want to marry me?”

Keyonna grimaced helplessly. “That’s what I’m saying. It’s not really your fault. I just…I can’t.”