Page 35 of Wanting Mr Black
Thank God.
Toby looks very surprised. “Okay, calm down, mate,” he says, snatching his hand from my shoulder.
Art carries on eyeballing him. “I’m not your mate.”
Toby pulls his other hand from Art’s grasp and climbs to his feet, jerking his grey suit jacket straight before sloping off, defeated.
I fix Art with a firm look. “What are you doing?”
His eyes lock with mine as he rises and places his mouth beside my left ear. “No other guy touches you. Do you understand? You’ve blown my mind, looking like this. I’ve barely been able to keep away from you. Come up to my office in five.”
The tips of our noses brush together, and as I gaze into his eyes, I see a familiar look of need. My whole body tingles.
Fuck.
I can’t allow him to have this effect on me. I’m angry. He can’t come charging in, nearly causing a scene, and start ordering me about. I glance in Lucy’s direction to see her still sat alone, sipping wine.
“I can’t. I need to speak to Lucy,” I say coolly.
“Sophie, please.” There’s a warning in his tone, which stokes the fires of my defiance.
“Today’s not about you; it’s about her.”
His jaw twitches. “Come up to my office in five minutes. Please.”
Is he for real?
“No. She’s upset, and I need to make sure she’s okay.”
“I need you.”
“She needs me.”
“If you’re not in my office in five, I’ll come and fetch you myself.”
The look in his eyes tells me he’s not joking.
He straightens, and without waiting for a reply, he turns and walks off.
Five minutes? We’ll just see about that.
Eighteen
The lull between the day and evening reception spares Lucy and me some time to sneak upstairs for a much-needed talk.
I close the door to the bridal suite firmly behind us as she flops backwards on the four-poster bed and pulls her tiara off, flinging it onto the pillows behind her.
“How’d you feel now?” I ask, hoping her answer will prove my suspicions wrong.
“Like shit.” She pushes herself up onto her elbows. “It was over before it began.”
Maybe not. I stare out of the large bay window overlooking the grounds and watch some of the guests taking a stroll around thegardens in the afternoon sunshine. They’re oblivious to the fact that the entire day has been a charade.
“I’m sorry, Luce.”
She pushes herself up off the bed and comes to stand next to me. “When we were in the gardens, having our photos taken, there was just me, Mark, and the photographer. He turned to me and said, “This was a mistake, wasn’t it?”
“And what did you say?”