The Tycoon's Rebel Bride (The Anetakis Tycoons #2)(32)

“Hey, lady, you left your shoes!” the man shouted from behind her.

By the time she’d gone three blocks, it had started to rain lightly. Not that it mattered. She already looked a fright, and her hopes of looking like a million dollars when she burst into Theron’s engagement party were doomed.

When she rounded the corner of the last block, the heavens opened and it began to pour. Blinking the water from her eyes, she dashed toward the hotel, avoiding the puddles that were already forming beneath her feet.

Please, oh please, let me be on time.

Her hair was plastered to her face by the time she made it under the awning. Water dripped from her body and from the sodden mass of her ruined dress. Her feet ached, and she was sure she’d cut her right foot on something.

Ignoring the inquisitive looks thrown her way, she rushed past several people who were trying to hurry inside. Skidding on the polished floor, she righted herself and ran as fast as she could with a wet dress wrapped around her legs.

As she neared the ballroom, she heard cheers from inside and then mad clapping. No. She couldn’t be too late, she couldn’t.

She thrust herself inside the door, her gaze wildly searching the crowd gathered. There, in the middle, stood Theron and Alannis. Alannis was beaming from head to toe as she gazed lovingly up at Theron who was smiling down at her. Around them people clapped and then they brought their glasses up in a toast.

The words were lost to Isabella. She heard nothing except the buzz in her ears. She saw nothing but how radiant Alannis looked. It was a stark contrast to how dead Isabella felt in that moment.

Slowly, every part of her aching, she turned, tears swimming in her eyes, and walked slowly back out of the ballroom. She nearly ran into Reynolds as he hurried up to her. Keeping her head down, she continued on, ignoring his demands to know if she was all right.

All right? Nothing would ever be all right again.

Gradually the sounds of laughter and happiness diminished, and she was left with only the murmur of the people milling about the lobby.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she made no move to wipe it. Who would notice? It would look like she was caught in the rain as she had been.

As she neared the entrance, Marcus ran in and stopped abruptly in front of her.

“Isabella, are you all right?” he demanded. “That was a foolish thing you did.”

He caught her shoulders and spun her so that she looked at him. And then he must have seen the misery in her eyes because his tirade ceased, and gentle understanding shone in his eyes.

“You were too late?” he asked needlessly.

She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut as more hot tears escaped.

He gathered her in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Bella. I promised I would have you here on time.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered.

“Come on, let me get you up to your room,” he urged as he turned her toward the elevator. “You’re soaked through.” He nodded tersely at Reynolds. “I’ll take her up.”

Numbly, she let him escort her into the elevator. As they rode up, images of Alannis and Theron filtered through her mind. They’d looked so happy.

Happy.

Almost like…they were in love.

She closed her eyes again. Why couldn’t he love her?

Marcus took the key from her shaking fingers and unlocked her door. Cool air immediately washed over her, eliciting a chill.

“You’re soaked, too,” she said as she became aware of his wet shirt and slacks.

He gave her a wry smile. “I took off after you and got caught in the downpour.”

She tried to smile and failed miserably. “Sorry.”

He sighed. “Why don’t you go take a hot bath? I’ll order up room service and see if they can’t also get me some dry clothing brought up from the boutique.”

She nodded and shuffled toward the bathroom.

Theron slipped his hand in the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out his BlackBerry. He frowned when he saw his last message had gone unanswered.

Excusing himself from Alannis with a smile, he nodded to the other guests assembled around them and backed away. He walked out of the ballroom and headed to the men’s room just two doors down. As he was about to enter, he looked down the hallway and saw Reynolds standing next to his men. He was soaking wet.

With a frown, Theron stalked toward the three men. Reynolds glanced up as he heard Theron approach.

“Where’s Isabella?” Theron demanded.

“In her room with Atwater,” Reynolds replied.

Sure he had heard wrong, Theron’s eyes narrowed. “With who?”

“She went up a few minutes ago with Atwater,” Reynolds said calmly. “They were both soaked.”

Theron’s pulse pounded against his temple. It was all he could do not to charge up to her room and drag Marcus out. Then he’d beat the hell out of him.

With a muttered curse, he spun around and headed for the elevator. Anger rushed like lava through his veins. What the hell was Marcus thinking? Theron knew damn well what he was thinking, and what he was thinking with.

When he finally reached Isabella’s door, he rapped sharply. A few seconds later, the door opened to a smiling Marcus who wore just a bathrobe.

He looked startled to see Theron standing there, and then his eyes narrowed to slits. “Sorry, I thought you were room service,” Marcus said. Then he turned his head toward the bathroom. “Stay in the tub a little longer, sweetheart. Food’s not here yet.”