The Tycoon's Rebel Bride (The Anetakis Tycoons #2)(30)

Reluctantly she shook her head and stared down at her barely eaten entrée. “I don’t want to make an ass of myself, but at the same time I have to make him see that I’m not teasing. I’m not playing some silly game nor is he a passing infatuation.”

When she looked up, she saw sympathy in Marcus’s dark eyes.

“Put yourself in his shoes,” she murmured. “You’re about to ask a woman to marry you. You’ve kissed another woman twice, and you’re fighting the attraction hard. What could this other woman say to you to convince you not to marry someone else?”

Marcus set his glass down, leaned back and blew out his breath. “Boy, you don’t ask the hard ones, do you? I guess it would depend on whether I truly loved the woman I was about to marry, but then I wouldn’t propose unless I was certain of that. And if I was certain, and I intended to propose, then nothing would sway me.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Isabella muttered.

“All you can do is try,” he said gently. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that jazz.”

A smile cracked through her lips. “Between you and me, we have all the trite clichés wrapped up.”

He reached over and took her hand. “Are you sure this is what you truly want, Bella? I hate to see you hurt or disappointed.”

“You’re sweet,” she began.

“Lord, but a man hates to hear those words from a woman’s lips,” he said with a groan. “It’s as bad as hearing you’re just like a brother to me.”

She laughed and relaxed her shoulders. Tension had crept into her muscles until her entire body had gone stiff with it. Marcus was right about one thing. All she could do was try. Whatever happened afterward was out of her control.

“You look fantastic tonight,” he said as he relinquished her hands.

“Thank you. You really are too sweet.”

She glanced down at the royal blue evening gown she’d chosen on her whirlwind shopping trip she’d dragged her bodyguards on earlier that day. She was dressed to kill, or to do battle at the very least. Without false modesty, she knew she looked her best.

High-class, posh, a far cry from her preferred jeans and flip-flops and brightly polished toes. Tonight, she fit into Theron’s world. Her world too, for that matter, just one that she’d never fully embraced. She had the money and pedigree, just not the desire to fit in.

“What time should we leave?” she asked anxiously.

She couldn’t help the surge in her pulse when she imagined making it to the party too late. It made her want to break into a cold sweat that she’d arrive only to see the happy couple already engaged.

Marcus smiled reassuringly. “The opera has only just begun. We have quite awhile yet. Not to worry, I’ll have you there in plenty of time. Try to relax and enjoy your dinner. It would be a terrible thing if you got to the party and promptly fainted at Theron’s feet from hunger.”

“Then again, it might be just the thing to stop the show,” she said mischievously.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m almost sorry I agreed to help you, Bella. I would have rather pursued you myself.”

“And if my heart weren’t already lost to Theron, I would most gladly lead you on a very merry chase,” she said with a grin.

“Then let me say this, and I won’t broach the subject again,” he said. “Should things not go the way you’d like…I ask only that you remember me.”

She reached over to take his hand this time. “Thank you, Marcus. You’ve been a wonderful friend in the short time of our acquaintance. I hope you’ll remain my friend no matter what. This is a lonely city when you know no one.”

“I’d be honored. Now eat. I insist. They have the most wonderful desserts here.”

Theron sat broodingly in his chair as the performance yawned on before him. Beside him, Alannis watched the stage with rapt attention, her face aglow with delight. Sophia was less enthused, but she still focused her attention forward.

Just before the performance had begun, Reynolds had reported that Isabella was meeting Marcus Atwater for dinner after a day of shopping. There wasn’t a whole lot Theron could do at that point given that he was firmly entrenched in his evening. In the end, he gave Reynolds strict instructions to stick to Isabella like glue and make damn sure that Atwater didn’t take advantage of her.

He was tempted to send a message to Reynolds from his BlackBerry, but he wasn’t sure that Alannis was so ensconced in the performance that she wouldn’t notice, and he’d promised that no business would interfere tonight.

Still, he’d requested periodic updates from Isabella’s security team, and he’d find a way to check his messages even if it meant a trip to the bathroom.

For the entire next hour, he fidgeted, ready to be done. It irritated him that on a night he should be relaxed, that he was forced to think about Isabella’s well-being. She was seeping into his life in a manner that didn’t sit well with him. What did it say when he couldn’t enjoy an evening with his future wife for thinking about Isabella Caplan?

Alannis touched his arm, and he was jerked from his thoughts.

“Theron, it’s over,” she whispered.

He glanced quickly to see the curtain drawn. Had he missed the encore entirely? Another nudge from Alannis had him rising to his feet. He offered her his arm and filed out of his box, Sophia and two of his security team following behind.