Chapter 47

Marcus doesn't question me or seem to disbelieve me. He simply thanks me for the information, then apologetically excuses himself to make a call.

"I need to talk to my closest ally about this," he says. "Right away. I'll be back as soon as I can, Evelyn. I'm sorry to excuse myself on a date like this – I know it's incredibly rude."

"I completely understand," I say, and I do. "This is obviously an exceptional circumstance."

Marcus speaks for a moment to the man at the door before slipping outside, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as he does so. A fresh glass of wine appears in front of me a few moments later.

As worried as I am, I'm still having a wonderful evening. I haven't been on a proper date like this…well, ever. Charles was never much for taking me on true dates when we were together. More and more, I wonder what I used to see in him.

He's always been such a selfish man, with such an ugly personality. It's amazing that I didn't see it before. Well, I'm wiser now, and thank god for that. I smile to myself as I take another drink of my wine – it's rich and warming. Marcus has impeccable taste.

Suddenly, a shriek splits through the air right behind me. A woman I've never seen is stomping toward us, her fists clenched and her beautiful face twisted into an ugly fury.

"You!" she spits at me, towering over our table and practically seething. "You bitch. I knew something like this was going on. You little homewrecker. We were getting married, did you know that?"

I'm completely and totally baffled.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I ask.

The woman actually hisses at me, like a snake. For a moment, I think she's going to slap me. I think she meant to – she actually pulled her hand back for a second – but she seems to think better of it and drops her hand.

"You have some nerve, little girl," she says. "My fiancé comes into my family home and dumps me absolutely out of the blue just a few days ago, and now I find him cozied up here with you. I knew some little upstart bitch had stolen him, and now I have proof."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I say honestly, and starting to get angry in my own right, "but you have no right to speak to me like this. Please try to get yourself under control. You're causing a scene."

This evidently enrages her further.

"Causing a scene? Honey, you haven't seen a scene, but I sure as hell can give you one. I don't know who you think you are, but I was born and bred to be a Luna. I come from one of the best werewolf families in the world. And you?"

She leans toward me and takes a deep sniff of me, glaring contemptuously the entire time. Frankly, it's really freaking unsettling.

"You're nothing but a human."

Before I can respond, Marcus is striding across the room toward us, looking absolutely beside himself. His handsome face is red with anger, and he looks like he's holding himself back.

He grabs the woman by the elbow and steers her aside, speaking to her in a low tone.

"Lydia, this is completely inappropriate," he says. "You know damn well that we were never engaged. To be frank, you know damn well that I never cared much for you at all. No one with even an ounce of common sense could have thought I was in love with you, and I know that you're not stupid.

"This assault on my date is completely uncalled for. I didn't even ask her out until after we'd broken up, and it was unplanned. You are causing a scene, and I'm embarrassed at this point that I ever put up with you for as long as I did.

"Now get the hell out of here, and never bother me again, or I will have to submit a formal complaint of harassment with the Werewolf Council. Don't think I won't, either. I never want to see or hear from you again."

Lydia's face has completely drained of color. She looks half horrified, half angry. She opens her mouth, maybe to start yelling again, but by then the bar manager has made his way over to our table.

"Madam, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he says sternly. "I must say, I've never seen a display like this in one of my establishments. We don't allow people to assault our customers. You need to leave now, and you are banned from this establishment."

Lydia growls, but Marcus clenches her arm and starts propelling her toward the exit while the manager follows.

"Leave now, madam, and I won't have to call the police," he says. Lydia glares at all of us one final time before sweeping out the front door, slamming it behind her.

Marcus is back at my side in an instant, the manager hustling close behind him.

"I am so, so sorry about that, Evelyn," he says, looking both angry and humiliated. "I can explain about Lydia later, but please know that she was absolutely not – and was never going to be – my fianceé.

"I never had any intention of marrying her, and, deep down, I think she knew that. That's why she's so upset."

The manager is at our table now, too, also murmuring a stream of apologies.

"...so sorry…never in all my years…should have gotten here faster…please accept a bottle of our finest champagne on the house…hope this won't affect your opinion of our wine bar…would never want to lose your patronage, sir…"

This last remark is aimed at Marcus, who pats him kindly on the arm.

"Don't worry, Jean-Paul," he says. "It's not your fault, and you intervened as quickly as you could. I'm sure that Evelyn joins me in not holding you responsible, or assigning any blame to you."

"I do," I rush to assure the poor man, who looks like he's close to tears. "This is the loveliest wine bar I've ever been to; I'm sure I'll be back many times." I smile at him with sincerity.

Marcus claps Jean-Paul on the arm again, and insists over his protests that we will both take the champagne and pay for it.

"You've never been anything but a wonderful host, Jean-Paul," Marcus says firmly. "Now, let's all put this whole messy business behind us. Evelyn and I will shrug this off in a moment, after our first sip of that wonderful champagne I know you keep on the top shelf in the back."

Finally soothed, Jean-Paul scurries away to send over the champagne, returning in a few minutes to serve it personally. A gorgeous cheese tray follows momentarily, and this, Jean-Paul will not budge on.

"On the house, Marcus," he says with finality. "I'll let you pay for the champagne, but the cheese tray is on me. Don't test me, or I'll throw you out next!" He says this last remark with a cheeky little grin, and Marcus grins back.

It seems that disaster has been diverted, and Marcus laughs when he agrees.

Then he turns back to me, and we clink glasses and move our conversation back to lighter topics, leaving the unpleasant memory of Lydia in the dust.