The Tycoon's Rebel Bride - Maya Banks Page 0,35
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.
“And how did you enjoy the show?” he asked as they made their way to the waiting limousine.
“It was wonderful,” Alannis gushed. “I do so love the opera. There was a time…”
She ducked her head, but not before he saw a bright blush form on her cheeks.
“There was a time, what?” he prompted.
“Oh, there was a time that I wanted to be an opera singer,” she said self-consciously.
“And why didn’t you pursue it?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I wasn’t good enough. Besides, father wouldn’t have had it. He thinks it’s