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Her fingers tightened its grip on the handle of her luggage.
Marcus.
Her Marcus.
It really was her Marcus, right in front of her.
Four
Marcus’ body becamerigid in his effort to remain still.One last time. One last time. One last time.He focused on the thought, a badly needed reminder of just how important this meeting was and why he should control himself and not succumb to the very basic urge to snatch her into his arms—-
Dio.
He had missed her so goddamn much.
How beautiful she was, every inch the blonde, blue-eyed angel that had never stopped haunting his dreams. She was dressed in a striped sweater that bared her midriff when she raised her arms, a pair of white corduroy slacks, and loafers – a look that was both laidback and elegant at the same time, one that spoke volumes of how different she was from other European heiresses. Most others only had beauty to speak of, but Anneke was – had always been, and would always be –more, in every way.
When she finally started to move, Marcus shoved his hands into his pockets and fought to keep his cool. Anneke was approaching him like a wary little animal about to bolt off any second, and he definitely didn’t want that to happen.
Anneke’s mind swirled with more and more questions with every step she took.Why was he here? Did he know she would be here? What would happen now?She could feel her mind reeling as she came closer and closer to him, and her heart – oh God, her heart.
Her heart was beating so hard and fast, it was as if it was making up for lost time.
And how silly, how oh so stupid was that?
Anneke nearly tripped over her own feet as she came to a halt before Marcus.He really was here,she thought dizzily. She knew she shouldn’t stare, but she couldn’t help it. Had his raven black hair always gleamed this brightly under the sun? Had his eyes always been this dark? And had his body always been this hard...thismacho?
Even the fact that she had to crane her neck so much to meet his gaze was a surprise to Anneke—-
So many little things, she couldn’t help thinking with a painful squeeze of her heart, that she thought she could – would – never forget but actually had.
When her blue eyes lifted to his once more, Marcus said quietly, “Ciao, bambina.”
Ciao, bambina.
The velvety sound of his voice, the faint Italian accent threading through the words—-
