“I know, I saw!” Then she catches herself and adds in a calmer tone, “I think we’re safe. I’m supposed to get my period this weekend.”
“Ah, good.” I’m glad she won’t have to take another morning-after pill, even as a part of me feels irrationally disappointed. Shoving that part deep down, I say, “I looked into some more foolproof methods of birth control for us. IUDs seem particularly promising, and there are also—”
“Later, okay?” She casts a worried look at the door. Pushing me away, she tries to tame her hair—a futile effort, given what my fingers have done to her curls—then smooths her palms over her clothes.
“You look fine, my sweet,” I assure her, and clasping her hand in a firm grip, I lead her to the door.
42
Emma
I’m still fuming as we eat dinner at home an hour and a half later. Though none of the customers said anything or even smirked much when we emerged from the back room, for the remaining fifteen minutes of my shift, I felt like I had a scarlet A branded on my forehead—or maybe a tattoo that says “Property of Marcus.”
It would certainly be in line with his behavior toward Ian. Marcus all but pissed in a circle around me—then literally marked me with his cum.
Shoving a bite of chicken into my mouth, I picture the bug-eyed panic on Ian’s face as Marcus came toward us, then the obvious sex noises that must’ve been coming out of the back room despite what Marcus said about us being quiet, and though I still want to die from embarrassment, a snort of laughter escapes my throat, causing me to choke on the food.
“You okay, kitten?” Marcus asks, immediately concerned, and for some reason, that sends me over the edge. Whooping hysterically between bouts of coughing, I shove my plate away and jump to my feet.
“You—he…” I’m laughing so hard tears are running down my face. “Oh God, we had sex in the freaking back room.”
Queen Elizabeth, who had been calmly napping on one of the free dining chairs, raises her head and gives me a look suggesting I’m mental—and I can’t blame her. Marcus’s behavior was atrocious, not funny in the least. And mine wasn’t any better. What was I thinking, dragging my insatiable pirate to the back room when the air between us all but crackled with a sexual charge?
If I get fired on Monday for inappropriate behavior at work, it’ll be no more than I deserve.
The thought sobers me up, and I return to my seat, wiping away the tears as Marcus stares at me in bemusement. I can’t blame him either. I’ve barely spoken two words to him since we came out of the back room, even though he waited for me to finish my shift and we went home together. He even attempted to apologize for acting like an ass at my place of work, but I could tell he didn’t mean it.
He thinks he’s somehow in the right on this—as if I would’ve ever gone for poor Ian.
“You know I’d never cheat on you, right?” I say, figuring I might as well state the obvious. “Not with Ian, not with anyone else.”
Marcus’s gaze sharpens, and he puts down his fork. “I know. I trust you.”
“So then why—”
“Because I don’t trust them.”
I blink. “Them?”
His jaw tightens. “Men. Especially desperate ones, like that blond asshole. He would’ve blushed and stuttered, and you would’ve felt bad for him, like for a sad little puppy. He’d worm his way into your good graces, become your friend, and next thing you know, he’s rubbing his fucking hard-on all over you.”
“Marcus!” I can’t believe he’s being so vulgar. “Ian wouldn’t—”
“Oh, yes, he would,” he says grimly. “You just don’t know how men think and how far they’d go to get what I have.”
“What, sex?”
“You.” His gaze burns into me. “You, Emma, are a fucking prize, and you don’t even know it. Each time you smile, some asshole gets hard—and I’m not just talking about me.”
I laugh incredulously. “Yeah, okay, now that’s—”
“Nothing but the truth. You slay them—and me—without even trying. And not just because that sweet ass of yours could launch a thousand ships. It’s you, kitten, everything about you.”
I stop laughing, my breath catching in my chest at the dark intensity in his stare. He means it—these aren’t just empty words—and for the first time, I wonder whether Kendall might be right.
Could the billionaire I love already be in love with me?
Heart hammering madly in my chest, I gather every ounce of my courage and prepare to take the biggest risk of all. “Marcus, I—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Carelli, Ms. Walsh… Are you done with the main course?”
Geoffrey’s appearance is like being rudely woken from a dream. Blinking, I pull back the hand I was about to lay on top of Marcus’s arm and force myself to smile. “Yes. I think we are. In fact, I’m pretty full, so I think I’ll skip dessert.” I glance questioningly at Marcus, and he nods.
“Same here, Geoffrey.” His voice is even as he rises to his feet. “Thank you for the dinner, and we’ll see you tomorrow. For now, we’re heading off to bed.”
And gathering my hand in his big palm, he leads me upstairs, where he demonstrates exactly how hard my smile gets him.
* * *
All weekend long, I try to work up the courage to say the words, but I can never find the right moment. Partially, it’s because Marcus spends a bunch of hours preparing for the Alpha Zone presentation he has to give at eight a.m. on Monday, double- and triple-checking all the facts in the hundred-slide deck his analysts have made. But mostly, it’s because I’m again uncertain, wondering if it might’ve been wishful thinking on my part, if I read too much into what he said
