Chapter 8 – Mr. Dark and Dangerous (III)

LONDON.

I cannot help it. I scream.

They pay me no attention. Marcus recovers from the initial shock and begins fighting back, throwing punches that Mr. Dangerous dodges so expertly. I look around in desperation, trying to see why no one has come to intervene. At this rate, they might probably pummel themselves to death. The restaurant has gone deathly silent, it's posh clientele watching the brawl in awe.

I look through the sea of faces, sighting the handsome man who spoke with the Dark god earlier. He's sipping from a glass of red wine, his face, a clear picture of boredom as he watches the scene. What is wrong with these people?!

Marcus and his opponent are merely staring each other down now. Fists have been subdued for the meantime. My chest clench in horror when I take in his swollen cheeks and broken lips. The stranger on the other hand appears like he just engaged in a slight scuffle – not a strand of hair out of place. The only sign that indicates that he just about brought the apocalypse to London restaurant is his quickened breath.

I stand, frozen, willing my feet to move but fearing to make a step. Hotel security arrive just then. Apparently, they're trying to take Marcus and the stranger away for further questioning. Marcus tries to explain that he's not at fault. Meanwhile, Mr. Dark and Dangerous stands apart with his hands deep in his pockets, seemingly unaffected.

Anger erupts like a geyser in the pit of my stomach. Why would they naturally assume Marcus is at fault?

Who does this stranger think he is?

"Excuse me!" I yell.

All attention immediate turns in my direction. I stomp towards them, dark hair flying all over the place, anger visibly shaking my frame. I nearly stop in my tracks when a particular pair of intense gray pools pierce me.

How on Earth did God make a man this beautiful?

************

I try to ignore her. God knows I try.

But seated just a few paces behind the dark haired siren, with the subtle knowledge that her plump lips are probably enclosed over a fork is enough to drive any sane man over the edge.

I take a deep breath, trying to divert the blood flowing in torrents to my cock. Beside me, Ricardo chuckles lightly.

"You're one step away from looking like a pervert, boss." He says

I make to reply but I'm interrupted by movements at Blue Eyes' table. Caryle fucking Velazquez just got to this feet. Apparently, he's trying to coax my blue eyed goddess to the dance floor. I do not pause to deliberate on the fact that I just referred to a total stranger as 'mine'. I'm too preoccupied with trying to mentally derail my cock from making a tent in my trousers as her shapely backside comes into view.

Holy shit, she's hot.

I hear a low whistle beside me, turning to find Ricardo's lustful gaze trained on her ass. Not fucking happening.

"Don't, Ricardo. Don't even think about it. She's mine."

Ricardo raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry, boss. Taking my eyes off her right now."

I narrow my eyes as him and he just laughs.

"You better."

I watch silently, anger stirring in my veins as Caryle puts his arms around her, swaying her softly to the music. I look down when a startling 'clang' jars my focus to find that I've completely twisted the fork in my grip.

"Jeez. Calm down, man." Ricardo says.

My eyes find his and he wisely pipes down when he sights the anger that clouds my features. I will myself to calm down, to look away, but her unconsciously seductive movements continue to play havoc to my insides. And God, that dress. My fingers itch to caress the bare, smooth expanse of her exposed shoulders.

I'm about to commend myself on the level of restrain I've been able to show thus far when Caryle slips his palm lower and rests them on her back, barely above the curve of her arse.

I give him ten seconds. Ten seconds to fucking move his hands away from what's mine. His time elapses but his palm still stays firmly in place, even caressing the spot now.

I see red. Blood curdling anger fires through my bloodstream, almost leaving me light-headed.

I get to my feet, sending my chair toppling, but I'm past caring at this point. I make my way swiftly past the rows of raised tables, fists clenched tightly at my sides. I am subtly away of the urgency in Ricardo's voice as he calls my name. I pay him no heed.

I make short work of the distance to the dancefloor. My erratic heartbeat only manages to calm by a notch when I grab fistfuls of Caryle's jacket. I rear back and punch him in the guts, backing the punch with all the anger that flows in my veins.

Right now, my dark haired goddess is bounding towards us, her bright eyes sparking with anger. My heart does a little flip when I realise that she's probably angry at me.

That's not right. I do not want her angry at me. I want her surrender, not her anger.

It dawns on me that I've just attacked Caryle without any apparent reason. My brain conjures images of his hand around blue eyes, rekindling my anger. That was reason enough. No one ever touches what is mine.

She comes to a halt before us, barely sparing me a glance. I'll fix that soon. Very soon, I'll be all she ever notices. She would never fucking behave like I'm not in the room.

"You," she says, pointing a finger at the hotel's security guard, "are extremely incompetent. My friend was just about to be mauled to death. I suggest you actually do your jobs and tackle the man responsible for this."

I smirk. Funny how she thinks I can be 'tackled'.

The security guard turns to me.

"Is that true, sir? Did you attack the gentleman?"

"Of course." I deadpan.

Blue eyes still dosen't look at me. Why would'nt she look at me? Instead, she places her hands on her ample hips and stares down at the security guard.

"Did you hear that? We've just been harassed. I want something done about this Immediately."

Beside her, Caryle shifts on his feet. The fucker is right to be scared.

"C'mon, sweetness. Let's just forget about it."

She gives him an incredulous look. She obviously isn't ready to forget about anything. Good. It's good she doesn't forget me. I wouldn't let her.

"Forget about it? You were just attacked by a mad man, Marcus."

Caryle winces. The little temptress just referred to the Capo of the Familia as a mad man. She needs to watch her mouth.

The security guard turns to me.

"Sir, why did you attack the young man?"

Blue eyes still has her back to me. I guess I'll need to draw her attention, one way or another.

"He had his hands on my woman." I deadpan.

My statement drops around us with the density of an atomic bomb, stunning everyone to silence. The security man looks confused. Beside him, Caryle is horrified. Yeah, that's right. Now he knows I've staked my claim.

No one.

No one ever threatens to take what I feel is mine and remains alive. Just ask Peter Sullivan.

Oh, you can't.

I killed the fucker.

I wait silently, counting the seconds until Blue eyes finally gives me her attention. She whips her head in my direction and I suck in a breath.

God, she's beautiful.

She's perfect, even.

Slightly parted lips, an oval face and bright eyes fringed with long lashes makes her appearance almost ethereal.

In that moment, I make my decision. She's mine and I'm never giving her back.