Page 50 of Billionaire's Mediterranean Proposal

It was the very opposite of Celine’s open scorn, but with the same end in mind. To get what she wanted—Hans’s ring on her finger and his fortune hers to enjoy...

With a smothered oath he tore his mind away. What use to feel such fury? Such betrayal?

He had survived what Marianne had done to him. He would survive what Tara had inflicted upon him too.

Yet as the endless receiving line finally dwindled, with only a few late guests still arriving, he found his eyes going past the doors of the ornate function room to the head of the stairs leading up from the lobby.

Would she come here tonight with Hans?

He felt emotion churn within him.

But it was not anger. And with a sudden hollowing within him, he knew what the emotion was.

Longing.

He stilled. Closing his eyes momentarily. He knew that feeling. Knew its unbearable strength, its agony. Had felt it once before in his life.

After his parents had been killed.

The longing...the unbearable, agonising longing to see again those who were lost to him for ever.

As Tara was.

Tara who could never be his again...

‘Marc—I am so sorry to arrive late!’

His eyes flashed open. It was Hans—alone.

He froze. Unable to say anything, anything at all. Unable to process any thoughts at all.

Hans was speaking again. ‘We have been a little delayed. Bernhardt is with me, and I hope you will not object but I have brought two other guests as well. Karin—Bernhardt’s fiancée—and...’ He smiled self-consciously as Marc stood, frozen. ‘And one more.’ And now Hans’s smile broadened. ‘One who has become very dear to me.’

Marc heard the words, saw Hans take a breath and then continue on, his eyes bright.

‘Of course until my divorce is finalised no formal announcement can be made, and it has been necessary, therefore, to be discreet, so perhaps my news will be a surprise to you?’

Marc’s expression darkened. ‘No—I’ve known for weeks.’ His voice was hard—as hard as tempered steel. His eyes flashed, vehemence filling his voice now, unable to stay silent. ‘Hans, this is madness—to be caught again! Did you not learn enough from Celine? How can you possibly repeat the same disastrous mistake! For God’s sake, man, however besotted you are, have the sense not to do this!’

He saw Hans’s expression change from bewilderment to astonishment, and then to rejection. ‘Marc,’ he said stiffly, ‘I am perfectly aware that Celine was, indeed, a very grave error of my judgement, but—’

; ‘And so is Tara!’ Marc’s voice slashed across the other man’s.

There was silence—complete silence. Around him Marc could hear the background chatter of voices, the clinking of glasses. And inside the thundering of his heartbeat, drowning out everything. Even his own voice.

‘Did you think I hadn’t seen you both, in London? You and Tara—’ His voice twisted over her name. Choking on it. ‘Did you think I didn’t see the ring you were giving her? See how her face lit up? How she couldn’t wait to take it from you? How eager she was to kiss you?’

Hans stared. Then spoke. ‘Bist Du verukt?’

Fury lashed across Marc’s face. Insane? No, he was not insane! Filled with any number of violent emotions, but not that!

Then suddenly Hans’s hand was closing over his sleeve with surprising force for a man his age. ‘Marc—you could not possibly have thought—’ He broke off, then spoke again. His tone brooked no contradiction. ‘What you saw—whatever it is you feared you saw, Marc—was Tara’s very kind reaction to the news I had just told her. Of my intention to remarry, yes, indeed. But if you think, for an instant, that she was the object of my intentions—’

Marc felt his arm released. Hans was turning aside, allowing three more people who had just entered the room to come up to them. Marc’s eyes went to them. Bernhardt, a younger version of Hans, well-known to him, with a young, attractive woman on one arm. And on the other arm an older woman with similar looks to the younger one. A woman who was smiling at Hans with a fond, affectionate look on her face. And on the third finger of the hand tucked into Bernhardt’s arm was a diamond ring...

Hans turned back to Marc and his tone was formal now. ‘You will permit me to introduce to you Frau Ilse Holz and her daughter Karin?’