Page 80 of Drawn Together

“It’s in your blood, isn’t it?”

I looked at him in surprise.

“Paulina Kozlova was a friend of my parents. If I’m not mistaken, it was my father who introduced her to yours.”

“Your parents knew my mother?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yes. I knew her, too, although I couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old… She once danced for my family, a private show at our home in Moscow… I remember that half of Russia was in love with her. She was very beautiful.” I nodded, becoming misty-eyed. “I never believed that anyone could be more beautiful than her… until I saw you.” He looked at me, and the intensity of his gaze was so hypnotizing, I hadn’t even realized we’d arrived at the restaurant. Marcus stretched out a hand and wiped away one of the tears sliding down my cheeks. “Will you dance for me… sometime?”

My heart raced. “Of course,” I answered quietly.

Marcus grinned and walked around to open the car door for me. When I got out, I saw that Sebastian was already standing beside the entrance to the restaurant. Something in his face changed when he saw me, and it took me a moment to realize it concerned him to see me step out of the car with moist eyes, so I smiled to put him at ease.

Between Marcus’s three bodyguards and my two, a total of five well-dressed men followed us into the elevator that would take us directly to the rooftop terrace to have dinner. Marcus was able to behave as if they weren’t there throughout the ride up, but that was harder for me to do. Especially when I felt his hand on the lower part of my waist and the possessive way he pulled me toward him in front of everyone, in front of Sebastian.

Once outside the elevator, I relaxed as I took in the restaurant; it was gorgeous, with sweeping views of the river. The seating was intimate, with tables situated along a huge window but screened off from each other to provide a sense of privacy that few restaurants could offer. I was relieved to see that the bodyguards would not have a clear view of us on our date, but it was still awkward to have Sebastian there, and I regretted not having accepted Marcus’s offer to leave my bodyguards behind.

We sat down and an elegantly dressed waiter offered us menus. Marcus ordered wine, which arrived a few minutes later, and slid closer to me.

“Did you like the flowers?” he asked as he served me some wine.

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” I said, bringing the glass to my lips, enjoying his attention.

“Your father told me that you live in New York,” he commented, after taking it upon himself to order for me.

I nodded, admiring his handsomeness. Up close, he looked a bit older than Sebastian. I don’t know why I was so obsessedwith their ages, but I needed to know what league I was moving in.

“Do you live alone?” he asked as he slid his arm across my back.

“Yes, but it’s a very safe area,” I said, taking another sip. I was nervous, but I didn’t want him to think that he intimidated me.

“Your father told me that Sebastian Moore shared the apartment with you…” he said, without taking his eyes off me.

“Well, yes. He moved into the staff room a few months ago,” I explained.

“Then why did you say that you live alone?”

I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. It made me feel tense and uneasy.

“Why did you ask if you already knew?”

“Touché,” he said, lifting his glass to his lips.

The waiter brought the first course, and from there the conversation became more casual, more relaxed. Marcus was a true gentleman at all times, and he seemed to be genuinely interested in the things I said. Even so, I realized I was holding back with him. I hadn’t let my true personality shine through, and I knew part of it was because this man was a friend of my father’s. Whereas with Sebastian, I was one hundred percent Marfil from the first second I met him. I didn’t like the realization that, with Marcus, I was trying to conduct myself the way I knew he expected a woman to behave, but I tried not to get too worked up about it.

By dessert, Marcus was practically glued to my side, his hand caressing the sensitive skin of my neck. “I brought you a gift,” he said after we finished sharing a slice of chocolate cake. He opened his jacket and slipped his hand inside to produce a black velvet box.

I opened my eyes in surprise. “You didn’t need to get me anything,” I said, feeling suddenly nervous.

“I enjoyed choosing it. Take a look,” he said. “I noticed you weren’t wearing any type of jewelry, just that necklace. A woman like you deserves diamonds and sapphires, Marfil.”

I opened the box and sat looking at the necklace, unsure of what to say. My heart was pounding in my chest, and not in a good way. I didn’t like jewels. They reminded me of my mother, of the reason for her death.

“It’s…” I tried to find words. “It’s too much. I can’t accept it,” I said, running my fingers over what I was certain was an authentic diamond.

“Nothing is too much for you,” he said, taking it out of the box. “Will you allow me?”

I was going to say no. I was going to explain that I didn’t wear jewels, but before I knew it, my ballet slipper necklace had disappeared from my neck, replaced by something that had likely cost thousands of dollars.