Making Mina Strings Attached(15)

Mina tucked her chin in embarrassment, the pain of admitting just how clueless she’d been hurting even more than the actual pain of losing Ethan. Marco leaned across the table and lifted her chin until she had to look him in the eyes.

“And now?” He wasn’t going to make it easy for her. She braced herself and shifted slightly until she could rub her cheek against his calloused fingertip.

“Now, I can’t imagine going back.” She took a leap of faith. “I don’t want to go back.”

Mina watched as heat flared in his eyes, pleasure flooding her at the proof that her words affected him, even if it wasn’t as strongly as he affected her. Until Marco she hadn’t known she could feel these things, but all she had to do was to look at him and she felt her body heating, her pulse speeding up. She wanted him with an intensity that staggered her, and her life had become focused around him and on him, to the exclusion of everything else.

“What do you want?” The words were simple, but his voice rasped across her senses, hunger lacing it, and her hand trembled in his. After this there would be no going back.

“You.” She had to clear her throat to continue. “I just want you.”

“And the plan?” Marco watched her closely, and Mina swallowed thickly.

“Screw the plan.”

Marco signaled for the server, his movements concise, his intent obvious. Within moments he’d settled their account and gathered Mina to him, leading her through the maze of linen covered islands, the faces and conversations existing only on the edges of their reality. Mina focused on the broad expanse of back in front of her, watching the muscles move smoothly under the suiting, her imagination filling in the details of what his skin looked like beneath it all. It took a few seconds for her to realize that he’d stopped before they’d reached the door, her mind distracted by her desire.

She tried to look around him to see why they’d stopped, but an iron arm held her back, preventing her from passing along side, and a strident voice cut through the haze in her brain.

“Where is she, Genovese?” Sharp and sneering, the voice was unpleasantly familiar. Mina peered around Marco’s shoulder and groaned—Ethan.

“I believe I said, ‘Leave.’” Marco’s words were so cold they dripped icicles, but Ethan wasn’t listening.

“Mina,” he said, angry that he couldn’t reach her, “I see you back there. Come out here and face me.”

Mina couldn’t believe it. Ethan was angry—with her. He must be drunk… or crazy... she thought, before looking up at the savage face above her. Or suicidal.

Marco stood rigidly in front of her, his body blocking most of the aisle, but Mina refused to hide. She patted the arm that held her and gently disengaged herself so she could move to stand beside him. It was ridiculous. The three of them were close enough to the front of the restaurant that they were visible from all sides, and everyone was watching. Anger radiated off the man beside her and she patted his arm again, whether to soothe him or herself she wasn’t sure. She just hoped she could talk some sense into Ethan before Marco decided he wanted to kill him.

“I don’t know what you want, Ethan,” she said, her voice pitched low so it wouldn’t carry farther than the troublesome blond in front of her. “But whatever it is can wait. This is not the time or the place to have this conversation.”

Ethan took an unsteady step forward. His eyes were a little glassy and his face was red. Definitely drunk. “And just when would the proper time and place be, then? At home? No, I’m sorry. That won’t work since you moved all your belongings out while I was out of town.” He sounded so aggrieved, so put upon, that Mina snorted.

“Well, of course I did! What did you expect?” Marco’s arm slipped around her waist again and he pulled her back against the hard length of his body. Ethan’s eyes followed the movement, focusing on the hand that gripped her hip possessively, and Mina spoke again, trying to draw his attention away from Marco. “There was no reason for me to stay. You made that perfectly clear.”

She couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice, and Ethan tut-tutted at her. “Don’t be like that, Mina. And what is he doing here?” He turned unsteadily to Marco. “Did she come to you with a sob story about how badly she’d been treated? I’d have thought you’d know better than to believe something like that. It was nothing—I was just having a little fun, and Miss Priss here has gone and blown it all out of proportion. As usual.” The sneer in his voice thickened, and an angry red mist floated across Mina’s vision causing her to forget about the audience around them.