"She wants nothing to do with him... He would be miserable without her."
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Meet Sophie Franklin, a fiercely independent fashion designer who lives in New York, and then there's Marcus Beadoux, a dashing prince with...
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At my interruption, Sophie twirls her head in my direction and stiffens, her eyes growing wide as saucers. Ignoring her for a moment, I cast a malevolent glance at the man who is still holding on to her wrist. He shrinks under my intense gaze and starts backing away.
"Sorry man, didn't know she was with you," he says, letting her go and scuttling away. I watch him leave before returning my gaze to Sophie, standing like a goddess under the shifting lights. My breath hitches, heart skipping a beat as I stare at her. By the gods, she looks absolutely divine.
My eyes trace the contours of her face, the subtle play of shadows accentuating the delicate lines that define her. Her lips, parted in surprise, and filled with so much sexual allure I'm overcome with the urge to go over there, crush her against my chest, and kiss her. Instead, I drop my gaze down to her straight shoulders, her tattoo sleeve on her right arm, and delicate fingers before dragging my gaze back up to her face. The flicker of the neon lights dances in her eyes, turning the familiar shade of brown into a kaleidoscope of emotions.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to speak. "Long time, no see, Sophie. How have you been?" My low voice has barely any emotions in it.
That seems to snap her out of her reverie as she looks around furtively, panic flaring in her eyes. "M-Marcus? What are you doing here?!" She stutters through clenched teeth, surprise and disbelief clouding her features.
"Nothing. I came to see you. Been waiting for you to step out of that office ever since I walked in." I reply, taking a step towards her.
She takes a step backward, her gaze hardening at my statement. "You followed me here!?" She mutters, her eyes glowering. "That's too bad, because I was just starting to leave." She says, walking past me.
I reach out, my fingers grazing her arm, pulling her back to me. Leveling her with a glare, I growl. "We need to talk, Sophie. I've been waiting for you," I say, my voice a low murmur, drowned in the thumping music.
I feel the tension in her muscles as she tries to pull away, the wariness etched on her features. "Why are you here, Marcus? Shouldn't you be with your fiancée?" she questions, a tremor in her voice and she glances past me, probably looking for the woman.
I lean in, the proximity igniting a quiet intensity. "Just like me, she's occupied with other matters. I came here to speak with you. Alone." Stepping away from her, I direct a calm gaze at her despite the emotions raging in my heart. In a suggestive tone, I ask, "Why don't we have a drink together?"
She seems hesitant at first but then agrees, walking back to the barstool she stood up from just moments ago. I follow after her, settling on the one next to her and ordering two glasses of whiskey. Once our drinks have been placed in front of us, I nod at the bartender, taking a sip and looking at her again, greedy eyes unable to focus elsewhere.
She's looking everywhere, her body still tense but it doesn't stop me from being fascinated by her. Just like the first time we met, I'm awestruck by her beauty. her brown shoulder-length hair that was dyed the last time I saw her, the soft line of her jaw and the graceful arch of her eyebrows show how beautifully she exists. Even though the club is loud and busy, Sophie stands out like a calm and beautiful masterpiece.
