me. He gestured towards me with his thumb and index finger, pointed in my direction like an imaginary gun.
“Who…” he began. “Is this? ”
Marco looked at me and replied, “This is Dani Simms.”
I tightened my grip on my martini glass and smiled back at him while Marco continued, “Dani, this is my teammate, Dyson Vix.”
Where Marco carried himself with subtle hints of European style, Dyson seemed direct, brash, and without a doubt, American.
“What’s up, Dani?” Dyson began, extending his hand in my direction.
Still smiling, I returned his greeting.
“Nice to meet you, Dyson.”
Before I could get another word in, Marco spoke. “Where is Ava? I thought you said she was coming.”
Dyson looked away from me, focusing his attention on Marco.
“She was going to, but something came up last minute. It couldn’t be helped.”
With that, the two of them began having a discussion about team business. While they did, I turned my gaze to the gathering of people inside the ballroom. Maybe it was the alcohol, but soon I found myself relaxing and much more at ease in the situation than I expected to be. For just a few minutes I’d lost sight of why I was there.
It was nice to relax and enjoy myself for a change. I dragged my fingertips along the edge of my glass, savoring the temporary relief from the tension I’d felt since our initial meeting.
Who was the real Marco?
Truthfully, the ease with which he handled himself in our meeting and then in a crowded ballroom made me a bit envious. Being a social butterfly was never one of my strengths. I’d made the decision long ago to sacrifice things like that in order to achieve my goal. Yet, at times like this, I wondered if the trade-off was worth it.
I took another sip of my cocktail when another thought occurred to me. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t considered it until this moment.
Why didn’t he already have a date?
DANI
Later that evening, at the conclusion of the banquet and awards ceremony, I stood from my chair and felt the combined effects of jet lag and one too many cocktails.
“Whoa,” Marco said, getting to his feet in a flash. He placed his hand in my lower back. “Are you okay?”
I rocked in place a bit. Reaching up, I touched my fingertips to my forehead and gathered my wits. “Yeah, I-I think I just stood up too fast.”
Marco reached behind me and pulled my chair away. With his palm still flat against my lower back, he nodded.
“Okay Cinderella,” he began, gesturing towards the ballroom exit. “Let’s get you back to your carriage.”
I smiled at him, and after saying our goodbyes to the people seated at our table we made our way to the hotel’s exit and a waiting limousine. Once we reached it, I slid inside and scooted across the seat. Marco didn’t follow immediately but instead chatted with a few people curbside. I took the opportunity to remind myself what I was there to accomplish. Somehow, yet again, I’d lost track of my purpose.
I glanced down towards my clutch. Inside of it was the signature page - the ticket to my freedom. After his stern warning earlier, I decided it was probably too risky to bring it up right away. Instead, I had no choice but to wait and see how the evening unfolded.
I had no reason to think he wouldn’t try something. Still not sure of how I’d react, I drew my thighs inward, touching my knees together at the thought of it. Just then, I noticed Marco getting into the limousine. A subtle rush of wind carried his scent in my direction. I swallowed hard and turned my attention towards the window and the glittering lights of Monte Carlo in the distance, just beyond the back seat window.
We rode along in silence for a few minutes. I didn’t recognize the direction we headed. It seemed to be opposite the direction of where I was staying. I turned to look at him.
“Isn’t my hotel the other way?”
Marco’s hands rested comfortably on his thighs.
“Yes.”
That was all he