Still, I worry that he’ll push too hard or too fast in his recovery and fuck himself up worse.
He opens my door for me, then leads me up the walk toward Victoria’s house. His grip on my hand is bruising, and his shoulders are rigid and tight. My stomach churns with unease as he raps sharply on the door with his knuckles.
I hope this isn’t a huge fucking mistake.
Chapter 19
No one answers for a long moment.
Marcus bangs on the door again, harder this time. I know he didn’t want to come here, but now that we’re outside Victoria’s place, I get the feeling he’s not gonna leave until our business is done. He’s not about to back down and let her win.
A few seconds later, the door swings open.
Victoria cocks an eyebrow, her green eyes narrowing. Her auburn hair is piled on her head in a messy bun today, and although she still carries herself with a sort of elegant, swan-like grace, she’s replaced the extravagant evening gown with a pair of carefully distressed jeans and a thin t-shirt that clings to the curves of her body.
“Marcus.” She smirks a little as the surprise fades from her face. “I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon. Did you miss it? I’ve still got your room made up if you want to stay a while longer. Or did you come to discuss wedding colors? I really can’t decide on the perfect color palette.”
“Go fuck yourself, Victoria.” Marcus steps forward, pushing the door open farther. “Ayla wants to talk to you. And then we’re leaving. Both of us.”
It’s a testament to Victoria’s strength that she doesn’t give way before the force of Marcus’s wrath. He’s towering over her like a predator about to strike, but she doesn’t back up or quail. Instead, she shifts her gaze past him to focus on me, an assessing look flitting across her face.
“Does she, now?” she murmurs. Then she nods. “All right. Come on in.”
I keep my own face hard and blank as she ushers us both inside. Marcus’s gait is still stiff, and I can tell he’s refusing to show any weakness, but Victoria purses her lips as she scans him up and down.
“While you’re here, you should have Doctor Brenson come look at you,” she tells him.
“I’ve got my own guy.”
She chuckles dryly, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She’s barefoot, I realize, with toenails painted a deep red. Everything about her looks casual and unforced, and I wonder which version of her is the real one. This one, or the woman I met last night?
Or maybe they’re both lies.
She’s clearly a good fucking liar.
“I’m sure you do have your own guy, but Brenson’s been taking care of you since day one. He knows how far along you are in your recovery, and he told you to book a follow-up with him anyway. So do it now.” She tugs her phone out of her pocket and taps out a message. “I can get him here in five minutes.”
Marcus’s jaw clenches. I grab his arm and shoot him a look. I’m sure this is some kind of power play on Victoria’s part, but after all the things Marcus has done in the past twenty-four hours, I really would feel better if a doctor checked him out.
He stiffens under my touch, then nods once, a sharp jerk of his chin.
Victoria smiles, then sweeps her arm out in an inviting gesture, indicating we should move deeper into the house. We follow her through the space, and my gaze darts around, cataloguing everything I see.
The inside matches the outside—understated and clean. There are a few hints of wealth here and there, but they’d be easy to miss if I wasn’t looking for them.
“Luca wasn’t particularly happy the three of you left the party early last night,” Victoria notes, leading us down a hallway before stepping through a door into the back yard. She catches Marcus’s gaze. “I made an excuse for you, but you better be careful. He doesn’t like any hint that people are disrespecting him.”
“I can take care of myself,” Marcus grunts.
Victoria’s smile makes my stomach tighten. “Oh, I’m counting on that.”
The back yard is much larger than the front yard, and this is the first sign I’ve seen of Victoria openly throwing her family’s new money around. An Olympic sized pool takes center stage in the yard, bright blue water glinting in the sunlight. It’s not all that uncommon for even middle-class people to have pools in Halston, but they sure as hell don’t look like this.
Victoria catches me looking at it and shrugs. “I swim almost every day. It’s heated so that even when the nights get colder in the winter, the water stays warm. It relaxes me.” Her phone buzzes, and she glances down at it before catching Marcus’s gaze. “Doctor Brenson is here. You can let him in and he’ll give your injuries a check.”
Marcus doesn’t even bother responding to her with words. But his hand closes around my elbow, and he tugs me toward him, dropping his head as he murmurs, “Last chance, angel. You say the word, and we’re out of here.”
I shake my head adamantly. “I’ll be good. Go. I’ll only take as long as you do, so once the doc is done checking you out, we’ll leave.”
He nods, seeming mollified by that. He gives Victoria one last piercing look before striding back into the house.
As soon as the door closes behind him, her demeanor changes. The air she had earlier of a hostess giving a tour of her house at a dinner party evaporates, her expression turning cool and calculating as she levels her gaze on me.
“So, did you come here to beg me not to do it? To let him go so he can marry you instead and whisk you off to his castle for a happily ever after? Because it’s not gonna happen.” She
