The Tycoon's Rebel Bride / The Billionaire's Unexpected Heir: The Tycoon's Rebel Bride

Theron looked less than pleased by the interruption, but it didn’t seem to bother the man who now stood at their table.

“Theron, it’s good to see you. I was happy to receive your invitation for Thursday night.”

He glanced over at Isabella as he spoke and she stared back, wondering if this was one of the men on Theron’s infamous potential husband list. She cocked her eyebrow in question but Theron ignored her.

“Are you coming?” Isabella spoke up, offering the man a bright smile. “I have it on good authority that Theron is using Thursday’s little soiree to find me a husband.”

She grinned at the man’s look of surprise. Then he laughed while Theron scowled even harder.

“You must be Isabella Caplan. I’m Marcus Atwater, and yes, I’ll be attending. Now that I know my attendance puts me in the running, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Isabella smiled and extended her hand. “Please, call me Bella.”

Marcus took her hand but instead of shaking it, he raised it to his lips and kissed it.

“All right, Bella. A beautiful name for an equally beautiful woman.”

“Is there something you wanted, Marcus?” Theron asked pointedly.

His glare could melt steel, but Marcus didn’t seem to be too bothered—or intimidated.

Isabella sat back. Maybe Theron seeing another man openly flirt with her would bring out those protective instincts. Maybe, just maybe if he suddenly had a little competition…

“Nothing at all,” Marcus said congenially. “I saw you with a beautiful woman, and I merely wanted to make her acquaintance and see for myself if this was the mysterious Isabella Caplan, the same woman you were throwing the party for. I’m glad now that I came over.” He glanced back at Isabella again. “Save me a dance Thursday night?”

She smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

She watched him walk away before turning back to Theron. “So tell me, how did he rate among the other men you considered for my husband?”

Theron gave her a disgruntled look. “He’s toward the top,” he mumbled.

“Oh good, then you won’t mind if we spend time together at your cocktail party.”

“No,” he said through gritted teeth. “He would be a good choice. He’s successful, doesn’t have any debt, he’s never been married before, and he’s healthy.”

“Good God, tell me you didn’t hack into his medical records,” she said in disbelief.

“Of course I did. I wouldn’t suggest you marry a man who was in ill health or had defects that could be passed on to your children.”

He seemed affronted that she’d ask such a question.

She stifled her laughter and tried to look serious and appreciative. “So can I assume that any man at your party has been carefully screened and has your stamp of approval then?”

He nodded slowly but he didn’t look happy about the fact.

“Well then, this should be fun,” she said brightly. “A room full of wealthy, good-looking men to choose from.” She leaned forward and pretended to whisper conspiratorially. “Did you also find out if they were good in bed?”

Theron choked on his drink. He set it down and growled in a low voice, “Of course I didn’t question their sexual prowess.”

“Pity. I suppose I’ll have to find out myself before settling on one man in particular.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Theron snarled.

Her eyes widened innocently as she viewed his obvious irritation. He looked near to bursting a blood vessel.

His phone rang, and he looked relieved as he fumbled for it. After a few clipped sentences, he rang off and looked over at her.

“You’ll have to excuse me, but I have to go. I have an important meeting I can’t miss.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t mind me. I was going up to my suite anyway.”

Theron motioned for Reynolds and then rose from his chair.

“Your security detail will see you up to your suite. And Bella, don’t try to go anywhere without them.”

Chapter Eight

Theron’s admonishment still rang in Isabella’s ears the next morning as she plotted her path past her security team. It wasn’t that she minded them going shopping with her. They might even be able to offer a male perspective on which dress looked best on her. She wanted to look good for the cocktail party, and not because of the men Theron had invited with her in mind.

As soon as she stepped out of her room, Reynolds fell into step behind her.

“Good morning,” she offered sweetly.

“Good morning,” he offered in return. “Where would you like to go this morning?” He pulled out his cell phone to call for the car.

“I want to do a little sightseeing,” she said. “I don’t know my way around the city very well, so I’ll have to rely on you.”

“What interests you?” he asked politely.

She pretended to think. “Museums, art galleries, oh, and I’d like to see the Statue of Liberty.”