Marked By the Pureblood Alpha (Deanna and Luis) novel Chapter 151

**The Heart I Buried for You by Serene Lockwood**

**He Pointed at Me, Then Didn’t**

Deanna’s POV:

Luis exuded a crisp cedar aroma, sharp enough to cut through the chatter of the room, creating an invisible barrier that seemed to keep the woman at bay. It was as if the air itself thickened around him, a palpable tension that made me acutely aware of the dynamics unfolding.

The woman’s hand hung suspended in the air, her glass of wine held delicately, as though she were unsure whether to continue her gesture or retreat.

I couldn’t help but sense the awkwardness that enveloped us all, a thick fog of discomfort that settled over the gathering.

A man in a flamboyant shirt broke the silence with a playful jab, “Aran is Elysian Club’s star girl. She doesn’t just serve anyone, you know. Looks like you’re in for a treat, Mr. Eaton.”

Luis, with that signature lazy smile of his, responded, “Is that so?” His voice rolled out, deep and untroubled, as if he was merely an observer in this spectacle rather than the center of attention.

Aran, with a bright smile, replied, “Mr. Larson, you do love to tease me. It’s Mr. Eaton’s first visit, after all. Naturally, I should give him the best service.”

With that, she quietly set her drink down, her posture straightening as she settled into her role, the professionalism returning to her demeanor.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, turning my gaze away from the unfolding scene, my eyes drifting toward the head of the table, where the tension seemed to radiate from Luis.

But then, as if pulled by an unseen force, my eyes locked with his—deep, intense, and piercing.

In a heartbeat, I looked away, feeling as if I had been caught in a moment of vulnerability. My heart raced wildly in my chest, and I forced myself to focus on the game cards in front of me, even though I knew I was woefully inept at this game.

Playing felt like a safer option than drinking, especially with the way the atmosphere had shifted.

Maurice had insisted that if Luis was in good spirits, Bluewave Studio would undoubtedly make it to the finals.

He never mentioned that I needed to win for that to happen.

In fact, a thought crossed my mind—perhaps he would only be pleased if I stumbled and fell flat on my face.

Someone piped up with a suggestion for a straightforward drinking game, something akin to “high card.”

The rules were simple: everyone would draw a card, and you could challenge another player’s card. Compare the values, and the higher card wins, while the loser faces a penalty.

As the game commenced, it felt almost rigged when, in the very first round, Luis drew an Ace—the highest card in the deck.

Laughter erupted around the table, a chorus of amusement.

“Wow, an Ace! Mr. Eaton, who will you be punishing today?”

Luis raised an eyebrow, his long fingers delicately holding the card, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he pointed it across the table.

My breath caught in my throat as his finger paused mid-air, hovering in my direction.

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