Lyon on a Leash (20 page)

The man shrugged, looked at him, and smiled. “I didn’t know who he was.” They turned and headed back to their table.

Marcus’ arm was around Vera’s waist as he bent to speak near her ear. “You look so good. Is there any way we can cut tonight short and go play?”

She laughed. His heart soared at the carefree sound. The tinkling notes caught Marguerite’s attention and she looked over at her and Marcus with an indulgent smile.

“I don’t know, but the way you’re rocking that black suit, I may have to do something.” She winked at him. “Tonight, call me Vera,” she whispered.

He squeezed her waist as he pulled out her chair. Once they were seated, a waiter walked behind them, placed two bottles of unopened water and a plate of lemons wrapped in plastic in front of him, with two glasses.

Marcus looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, Bart.”

The young man nodded and walked off as Marcus opened one bottle and poured some water into a glass. He placed it in front of Vera and then poured himself some in the other glass. When he was done, he removed the lemons and squeezed one and a half in her glass, and one in the other.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

He ignored the silent stares around the table and picked up his glass and took a long drink.

“Is there something we need to know?” Renita asked, gazing pointedly at their bottles.

Marcus shrugged. “I don’t trust water I don’t know where it came from, that’s all.”

Ahmed’s eyes drilled him. “How do you know where those bottles came from?”

“I gave them to him to chill for me.” Marcus’ words were so matter-of-fact that no one else spoke.

Renita grinned. “I like that.” She turned to her husband and pouted. “Will you get my bottle out of the car?”

He tapped her nose and pushed back his chair. “See what you started?” he teased Marcus.

As long as no one looked at his woman like she was weird, Marcus didn’t care what they thought of him.

“So Marcus, are you from Atlanta?” Renita asked.

“No. I’m originally from New Jersey. I moved here from Memphis. What about yourself?” he asked, not really caring. Instead, he focused on the smooth texture of Vera’s fingers as he stroked them beneath the table. Half-listening as his question was answered, he looked over Renita’s shoulder and his gaze locked with Brinks’. Leaning downward, he placed a kiss on Vera’s bare shoulder while holding Brinks’ eyes. The man’s jaw clenched.

Renita looked over her shoulder, paused, and then turned back to him with what could only be considered a naughty grin. “Oooh, I like you,” she said. “And I thought tonight was going to be boring.” She looked at Marguerite, who had just finished giving James some instructions. “Gerard’s up to his old tricks, I see. Can’t be happy with what he has. It’s going to bite him in the ass one day.”

“Sooner than later,” Marcus growled, breaking contact with the man when Vera pinched his thigh.

“But not tonight,” Marguerite said in an autocratic tone.

“No, ma’am.” He released a deep sigh. “Probably not tonight.” He didn’t realize he’d sounded so disappointed until the women and Reeves laughed.

“I told you, Vera. Lions don’t tolerate anybody encroaching on their turf. Susan better put a leash on Brinks before he gets more than his feelings hurt,” Marguerite said, smiling. When he glanced at her, she winked her approval of his actions.

Ahmed returned with three bottles of water. “Here you go, baby.”

When Marcus looked behind Renita, he noticed Susan and her mother staring at their table. They turned when they realized he’d seen them. Ahmed followed his line of vision and then looked at him with a raised brow.

Marcus shook his head. He didn’t know this man, but the way he’d approached him earlier said a lot about how far he’d go to take care of his woman. That spoke volumes in his book.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” An older woman starting speaking about the event from the podium. As her voice droned on, Marcus turned his attention to his lady. Vera. She’d told him to call her by her first name that night. His gaze dropped to her shoulders. Her skin glowed against the topaz-colored strapless gown she wore. While her attention was diverted, he dragged his fingertips along her collar bone.

A tremor shot through her but she continued staring ahead engrossed in whatever was being said. But he knew better. He stretched and draped his arm behind her. His hand rested on her shoulder. Seconds later, his fingers rubbed the satiny skin on her arms.

She squeezed his thigh but didn’t tell him to stop.

Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear. “You’re the prettiest woman in the room.”

A grin inched up her face. Still, she said nothing.

There was a round of applause and someone else stood on the dais. Everyone at the table bowed their heads as a prayer was said. He looked across, over Renita, and met Brinks’ gaze.

Marcus grinned at the man’s scowl.

Ahmed caught the grin and looked over his shoulder. Brinks looked at the older man and then returned his gaze to Marcus, and by extension Vera.

Ahmed shook his head, but his eyes held merriment.

“Amen.” The long prayer was over and the wait staff began placing salads on the table. When Bart presented the salads to Marcus, he looked them over before nodding.

“Thanks, man. We appreciate it,” Marcus said to Bart as the man walked off.

“What the hell is Brinks up to now?” Ahmed asked as soon as the waiter left. Marcus glanced at him and then peered over at Ms. Marguerite.

His wife answered around a bite of salad. “He’s interested in Vera. But Marcus will kick his ass if he tries anything.”

Vera’s hand on his thigh tightened.

Marcus remained silent as he ate his salad.

“Good for you,” Ahmed said as he saluted Marcus with his fork. “He needs to grow the hell up and cut that out.”

“Hello,” Brinks called, walking up with his wife. His gaze landed on all seven of them at the table, one at a time. In Marcus’ opinion he lingered longer on Vera but kept moving, especially with his wife gripping his arm.

Everyone spoke except Marcus. He continued eating as though the man wasn’t there. Greeting people while they ate was rude. Why couldn’t he come speak before the meal had been served?

“Hello, Renita, Ahmed. It’s good to see you again. How’re things going for you?” Brinks continued as though his presence were desired. His gaze slid to the three empty chairs and back to Renita.

Marcus knew what was going to happen before the man opened his mouth. “Can we join you?” Brinks pointed to the three chairs.

Brinks’ wife’s mouth tightened.

“Sure, take those seats.” Marguerite waved to the empty space and glanced at Marcus. Humor lit her eyes and she winked.

Brinks pulled out a chair for his wife before returning to their table and picking up their drinks.

“Thanks,” he said as he scooted his chair forward.

Marcus continued eating. When Vera’s water dropped below a half glass, Marcus topped it off. The waiter placed salads in front of Brinks and his wife.

“So Ahmed, how are things going uptown?” Brinks asked.

Marcus leaned close and spoke in Vera’s ear. She leaned toward him as well. “If I don’t kick his ass tonight, can I get a special treat when we get home?” he whispered.

Her hand flew to her mouth as she smothered a laugh. Marcus ignored everyone at the table while waiting for her to compose herself. When she did, she looked up into his eyes with a sparkle in her own.

“What did you have in mind?”

Without looking, he pushed his salad plate away and leaned forward, his elbow on the table with his back to Brinks.

Her gaze never left his.

“A midnight swim?” he murmured.

Her eyes lit. He hoped she was remembering the last time they’d swum at night. She’d tied him up and used him like a sex machine on top of the massage table. Afterward, they’d gone for a swim and then hit the whirlpool. When they’d returned to the house, she was practically limp as he took her from behind. It had been a night he wanted to repeat.

“We have company,” she whispered.

“They have their own room.” His gaze flickered over to Marguerite. But she continued eating and didn’t look at him.

Moving closer, he spoke directly in her ear, completely aware of how it looked to certain people at the table. “I want more than lettuce. It’s been two days since I’ve tasted you.”

The hunger in her eyes matched his. His heart soared.

“You’ll have to do more than not kick his ass.”

He tensed.

“You’ll have to be polite. This is a business function for me. I’ll be doing some networking. So keep that hot-and-sexy vibe on lockdown ’til we get home. I need to focus and not walk around wet and hungry.” Her fingertip traced his lip and then tapped it.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered and sat back in his chair. He didn’t need to look at Brinks. He felt the man’s stare and ignored it.

“So where are you from, Marcus?” Brinks asked.

It took Marcus a moment to look at the man. “I’m from—”

Vera squeezed his thigh in warning.

“I’m from New York,” he lied.

“Yeah? What part?” Brinks asked.

“Harlem.”

Susan leaned back in her chair.

Ahmed and Renita smiled but remained quiet.

“Is that where you and Vera met?”

“Why?” Marcus shot back, tired of the questions.

Brinks held his hands out in front of him. “Just trying to be polite, friendly conversation and all that. Vera and Susan are co-chairs for this event. I thought it’d be nice if we all sat together.” His brow creased. “Is there a problem?”

“Not yet,” Marcus said, ignoring the pinch on his thigh from his Mistress. “Where I’m from and what I do is an inappropriate topic of discussion at this table.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry about that, man. Vera and I are friends—”

“Associates. At work only,” Marcus snapped. Blood raced through his veins at an electrifying pace. Heat rose up his chest. Beneath the table, he balled his fist.

A soft, smaller hand covered his fist. He looked down and over into the warm, brown eyes of his woman.

“No,” she mouthed. Her freckles became more visible, a sure sign of her displeasure. Her gaze held understanding, and something else. She was here with him and no pissing contest would change that fact. Watching her, the anger fled. He brushed against her cheek. She closed her eyes as she leaned into him.

“Will you guys cut that out? We’re at the dinner table.” Brinks’ voice rose. It was obvious he was losing it.

“Calm down, honey,” his wife said.

“He acts like some kid who can’t control himself for a few hours.”

Vera spoke without releasing his gaze. “He’s no kid. I can attest to that.”

Marguerite and Renita burst out laughing.

Marcus laughed as he dropped his forehead to hers. “Well done, Mistress, well done,” he murmured.

“Vera. Call me Vera tonight.”

“Yes, my Vera.”

“Oh for the love of—”

Marcus heard the chair scraping against the floor and looked over his shoulder.

“Susan, let’s go.” Marcus stood, buttoning his jacket, glaring at them.

Susan stood slowly. “I can’t leave yet. I’m a co-chair.”

Marcus watched the man’s complexion redden. “I forgot. I’ll be back.” Susan sent them a forced smile and sat back down. Marcus wondered where her mother was. They’d been together earlier. After a moment or two, he located the short woman sitting at a full table of older men and their women.

“Susan, how did they decide which charity gets the funds from an event like this?” Marcus asked, feeling sorry for her.

She rewarded him with a grateful smile and launched into a lengthy explanation. Marguerite and Renita asked her a lot of questions. He was able to return his attention to his Mistress and the crowd of people.

She patted his shoulder and whispered. “Soon, sweetie, soon.”

Brinks never returned, but Marcus suspected his wife had a better time without him. She engaged in conversation with everyone and appeared at ease.

Renita pushed away from the table. “I gotta go.”

“I’ll go with you,” Vera said as she stood.

The two women left without a backward glance. He glanced at Marguerite. She was embroiled in a conversation with Ahmed. Susan threw back a few more glasses of what appeared to be champagne. Not wanting to talk, Marcus leaned forward, nursing his drink.

When the women returned to the table, Brinks was with them. Marcus searched his Mistress’ face. Her eyes were still bright with a hint of mischief. He released a breath and pulled out her chair.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He rubbed her shoulder.

“So Vera, how’s your manuscript coming along?” Brinks asked as he re-took his seat next to his wife.

Marcus felt Vera tense and wanted to punch Brinks for bringing up the subject. Although it was a valid question, Marcus knew the discussion would lead to disaster.