There was nothing Christina refused her daughter, and she had a tough time reprimanding her, even when her little gestures, cute and innocent as they were, bordered on discourtesy.
Marie looked up at Marcus and stunned him with her megawatt smile that would one day break hearts. It didn’t surprise me that she fell so soon in love with him. Her aunt had done just the same, I thought as my heart skipped a beat.
“Charlotte, would you give me a hand?” Christina asked, stepping away from the table and to the kitchen.
“Before she burns down the kitchen,” Logan teased her.
“Ha. Don’t irritate the cook, mister.”
I recognized their intention. Christina wanted to corner me alone while Logan did the same with Marcus. I watched him doubtfully, not wishing to submit him to a big-brother speech, but he winked reassuringly then urged me with a nod to follow my sister. The big-brother speech, written beforehand by Christina herself, was inevitable.
“So what are you making Logan grill Marcus about?” I asked once we were in the kitchen, which was a complete and undisputable disaster.
“Nothing that he doesn’t deserve.” she smiled brightly and turned to the four empty plates set on the countertop.
“Christina,” I warned, but she remained unaffected by my hard, cautioning tone as she often did when my wellbeing was concerned.
“He can handle himself. It’s you I wanted to talk to.”
“I imagined.”
“How are you?”
She was fairly unskilled where the culinary arts were concerned, but she made up for it with her determination to set things as close to perfection as possible. However, the food was doubtless catered if she planned on feeding us without sending someone to the ER with a grave case of food poisoning. I focused on her hasty movements instead of searching for a truthful answer.
“Charlotte?” she prodded.
“I’m fine.” I knew it was a lie as soon as her knowing eyes roamed all over my face.
“That is not completely true.”
I let out a sigh and leaned against an open cabinet that held clean plates. I was fine and happy and scared, all gathered in one bubble of chaotic emotions.
“Two months ago, we didn’t even know each other and now—” I trailed off, rubbing my face and sighing heavily. “He can settle me and turn me upside down just as quickly. He’s gotten under my skin, Chris, and I don’t think I can get him out.”
“Charlotte,” she spoke softly, almost like she did to Marie.
“I’m scared of his power over me, of myself when I’m without him, of us.”
“Charlotte, darling,” she interrupted me and wiped the single tear that was coursing down my cheek. “You are afraid of what may happen if there isn’t an us, but you’re not there and may never be.”
“You don’t know that,” I sobbed.
“Love is the hardest, most challenging form of war” she continued. “You fight against fears, doubts, yourself at times, and maybe even ghosts from the past. In the end, you should decide if the prize is worth fighting for. If Marcus is worth it, fight for what you have. If he is not, don’t put your heart at stake.”
“How do I know if he is worth the fight?” My eyes stung, and my lower lip trembled.
“You don’t know, not rationally. You feel it. When he gets into your system so profoundly that he courses through your veins, and he carves a little spot inside you that feels empty when he is not around, you’ll know.”
Christina told me what I had already known. Marcus was worth the fight, the struggle, and the affection.
The very instant we returned to the dining room, each of us holding two plates loaded with food, Marcus smelled the change in my disposition. I offered him and Marie a warm smile and was grateful when he didn’t make any inquiries. His eyes, however, lingered on Christina before his attention returned to me, and he covered my hand with his. The warmth of his body settled me. It comforted me.
Marie grudgingly left Marcus’s lap when Christina came to retrieve and place her in her high chair where she played with the penguin toy I had gifted her a couple of weeks ago. In her absence, Marcus drew closer to me, our bodies in even tighter contact than before.
Batting my eyelashes, I looked between Logan and Marcus. “What have you two gentlemen been talking about?”
“Lawyers, out-of-order motorcycles, illegal races—” Marcus muttered, and I knew he was referring to him and me and our unanticipated relationship.
“Dangerous getaways,” Logan added, casting a conspiratorial glance at Marcus, and they started laughing while both Christina and I watched them puzzled. They were getting along well, apparently.
“What have you two lovely ladies been talking about?” Marcus mirrored my question with a playful smile tugging at his lips.
“The art of war,” Christina giggled while displaying an intoxicating smile. Had I not known her so well, I might have missed the coolness behind the dazzling beam.
Marcus smiled in response, but under the table, his fingers tightened around my hand. He knew he wouldn’t win Christina over with only his charming smiles and polished speech.
The dinner progressed pleasantly despite the short-lived tension, and Marcus answered dutifully all the questions he was asked. I had been wrong in assuming that Logan had been assigned to grill Marcus. Christina was carrying out the task triumphantly on her own, albeit very charmingly and utterly gracious.
“Have you lived long in New York?”
“Born and bred here. After finally getting used to the city, it’s difficult to think of living any place else.”
“It’s a little odd that you and Charlotte had never met before since your father and James are in business together.” Christina’s sharp eyes, although perfectly schooled into a friendly gaze, didn’t miss a single reaction.
“I lived with my aunt most of my childhood and adolescence. Afterwards, my father and I didn’t quite see eye to eye, and we rarely attended family gatherings together or visited with friends.”
“Your mother’s sister?” Christina pressed, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Yes.”
Instinctively, I tightened my hold on Marcus’s hand, and he turned to me, his mouth quaking and his eyes warming up. I knew his mother was a sore topic, and I had never dared to mention her. His anguished look validated my thoughts. He still hurt over her absence.
“Charlotte mentioned a very charming cousin. Are you two close?”
“Kai is like a brother to me. He has his faults, indeed, but then, we all do.”
The cutting edge of Christina’s inquiry did not remain unnoticed by Marcus. He could read the subtle meaning in Christina’s questions effortlessly. Logan and I smiled over the rims of our wine glasses.
The risotto and herb-crusted salmon were exquisite, but we hardly enjoyed the food or the wine we sipped regularly. I ate although my stomach was churning, and so did Marcus, yet the rigid set of his shoulders and the detached look in his eyes told me he was more concentrated on gaining Christina’s trust than enjoying the food she had served us.
“Are you interested in a stable relationship, Marcus?”
“I am. I don’t commit easily, but when I do, I don’t turn back.”
I was growing more and more nervous and mortified. Despite the personal nature of the questions my sister was asking, Marcus never seemed put out by her intrusiveness. In fact, he was more solicitous and prepared to offer her answers than he was with me. Sometimes, I wanted to be more like her. She had always had a unique capacity to gain the reactions and the answers she looked for.
“What about your hobbies?” my sister continued, looking fairly innocent while firing treacherous questions.
“You mean racing?” Marcus grinned and relaxed in his seat.
Noticing the change in his demeanor, I gaped at him in disbelief. Then I understood. He was changing tactics. While up to that point he had been the groomed, civilized man any sister would like for her sibling
, he was finally letting her meet the true Marcus, sometimes lethally charming, sometimes dreadfully dangerous. I stifled a smile, but Christina didn’t bother to. She also recognized the sudden alteration to Marcus’s approach, and she liked it.
“Yes. Do you still race?”
“I haven’t in a while.”
“But you’d like to?”
“Sometimes,” Marcus admitted, and an unpleasant chill crept down my spine. “It is not a hobby, though, as much as it is a form of de-stressing.”
“A rather dangerous form.”
“A liberating one. Charlotte can attest to that.” He turned to wink at me suggestively, and my heart stopped in my chest. That was probably not something that Christina needed to know.
“What?” Somehow, she managed to drag that little word into three different syllables.
“We—rode together a few times. It was liberating indeed.”
“Charlotte,” she gasped outraged while Logan fought to keep a straight face.
“I will always keep her safe,” Marcus cut in, his voice stern and decisive.
“You do that.” Her retort came quickly and just as sternly. I sighed. Maybe, just maybe, the strict interview had reached its end.
“Have you finished the inquisition now?” I asked, long after our plates had been emptied and forgotten on the table.
“We were only getting acquainted,” she explained innocently, and all four of us started laughing at the absurdity of her proclamation. If that hadn’t been an inquisition, I didn’t know what was.
“Have I been cleared?” Marcus chuckled. It took a real knowledge of his character and his mood swings to be aware of the tension simmering at the surface while he waited for Christina’s answer.
“For now.”
At a very long last, Christina gifted us with a sincere smile. The charged air dissolved, and the indiscreet questions were replaced by good-natured jokes and intimate testimonies about Logan and Christina’s wedding anniversary.
“So who’s up for a poker game?” Logan asked after he helped Christina clear the table.
“I’m a lawyer. I do not condone such activities.” I made an outraged face and faked insult to my very deeply embedded legal ethics.
“Let me put Marie to sleep,” Christina said and leapt out of her chair.
“Christina,” I protested.
I didn’t feel like I was breaching any moral law by playing poker, so I wasn’t actually against it, but my sister’s enthusiasm made me all the more adamant. She knew I had no inclination whatsoever toward games of chance.
She picked up little Marie, who had long ago lost interest in her toy and had dozed off. Molding into her mother’s arms perfectly, she sighed and rested her small head against Christina’s breast.
“Texas Hold ‘em?” Marcus asked, eying the deck of cards that Logan had retrieved from a drawer.
“Always.”
Less than fifteen minutes later, Christina rejoined us at the table, almost bouncing and clapping her hands with unrestrained enthusiasm. I scowled but couldn’t get mad at her small betrayal when she was so happy. When I was so happy.
I looked at Marcus, and he winked at me, the mischievous glint in his eyes unmistakable. I was so going to lose, but while doing it, I was going to have a time to remember.
“So what is at stake?” Christina demanded eagerly after Logan dealt the cards.
“Oh, yes, indeed.”
Logan looked pensive, yet the roguish look he cast my sister promised all sorts of shocking things I wished I hadn’t witnessed. It was when I lifted my head and met Marcus’s scorching eyes that I realized he was watching me with the same naughty expression. Men, I thought rolling my eyes. But the thrill running up and down my skin made me suddenly feel feverish and expectant.
“May I suggest shots?” Marcus asked politely, but there was no politeness in the wicked fashion with which his eyes sparkled.
“No,” I groaned, knowing it wouldn’t be pleasant whatever he was planning.
“Yep,” Christina chimed, clapping her hands. “Tequila, lime, and salt.”
“No. I get to prepare the drinks,” Marcus said. “After all, whoever loses should experience the loss a little.”
Christina looked downright inconsolable at being denied her customary college drink, and she pouted sadly. Logan appeared surprised but recovered quickly. And I—well, I looked resigned. I was going to experience the loss full force.
When Logan and Marcus returned from the kitchen, Logan was holding four shot glasses, and Marcus brought a decanter with a brownish liquid that smelled even more dubious than it looked. Both men sat in silence, looking tremendously pleased with themselves.
“Is that even digestible?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“Lose, and you’ll find out,” Marcus laughed.
“I’d rather not.”
I was not used to drinking alcohol, yet when I did, I had a little more refined taste than that ugly-looking, nasty-smelling drink in the crystal decanter between us. Marcus leaned into me, his mouth brushing against my ear. Abruptly, I forgot all about the peculiar liquid and found myself absorbed by Marcus King.
“Yet, if you do lose,” he whispered softly, “I want something which I will collect in due time.”
“What is that?” I was flushed and breathless.
“Don’t be impatient, sweet Charlotte,” he teased. “I will collect when it is just you and me in our bed.”
“Oh...” I was definitely going to lose.
If earlier I had considered myself a terrible gambler, now not even focus was on my side. I felt hot and achy in all the wrong places and completely disorientated. What was he going to collect?
“Shall we begin?” Logan demanded.
Christina won the first game. She tossed her arms in the air, clapped her hands, and made a sensual little dance in her seat that triggered a smoldering look in Logan’s eyes. I looked away, blushing and very carefully avoiding Marcus’s gaze. I knew he was watching me too.
“They let you win,” I grumbled and scowled at the cards.
“Drink up, little sister,” she ordered, grinning widely like a fool.
Marcus poured three shots, for Logan, himself, and me, then he proceeded to down his own dose of the nasty liquid. He didn’t even flinch. I gripped my glass uncertainly and pinched my nostrils together before I found the courage to swallow the drink.
Saltiness hit my taste buds with a vengeance. The fluid felt warm and velvety against my tongue. It was utterly and undeniably disgusting. It tasted of milk, cheese, apple vinegar, and alcohol, probably rum. It was for sure the single most revolting thing I had ever had to swallow.
“Dude, how did you come up with this?” Logan coughed and made a disgusted face, then slammed the glass against the table and wiped his mouth. “It tastes like something Satan would serve at his birthday party.”
“I’ve had worse than this, believe me.” Marcus looked completely unaffected while Christina and I cast him a half-shocked, half-repulsed glance.
The second game was once more won by Christina, who faked a swoon and clapped her hands again, while the three of us gulped down another shot. Then the boys finally brought in the heavy artillery.
Marcus won three games in a row, looking as natural and composed as if he were merely taking a walk in the park.
He was frustratingly gorgeous. With his suit jacket resting on the back of his chair, his black V-neck shirt hugged his muscles in a way that had me fantasizing about licking the sublime planes of his chest and stomach. My breath hitched each time he stole glances at me or when he brushed his forearm against mine, supposedly by mistake.
Completely at ease, with the hand he used to hold his cards resting on the table and the other arm draped against the backrest of my chair, Marcus smirked. He was aware of the arousing image he was generating and was completely unashamed of it.
“I’m going to throw up,” Christina complained after Logan won a game.
“Are you giving in, darling?” Logan challenged but eyed the half-empty decanter hesitantly.
“Hell no!”
We played another few games, which obviously, I lost. My attention drifted obstinately back to Marcus’s earlier promise. I want something which I will collect in due time. I was infuriatingly curious and inexplicably provoked by the wicked nuance I had read in his eyes. My skin tingled with electricity, and my blood ran hotter with each game I lost. Somehow, I knew the more I lost, the more he would want to collect.
It was well past midnight when we took our leave. My stomach rolled, and my vision blurred a little, but Marcus was in perfect, annoying order. He wrapped his jacket around my body and pushed yet another bottle of water in my hands, urging me to drink.
Christina stopped into the doorway, watching us somewhat blearily as we made our way to the elevators. “Marcus?” she called, the pleasant smile she had been wearing all night disappearing completely. “Don’t dare to hurt my sister.”
Chapter 30
Marcus
My father’s residence was an obnoxiously expensive penthouse that overlooked the south side of Central Park. The classical apartment, decorated in shades of beige, gray, and dark brown, was not necessarily huge, yet the luxurious furniture and decorations, the rare paintings hanging on the walls, and one-of-a-kind sculptures scattered around the apartment, or the landscaped private terrace made it stand out ostentatiously.
To all the luxury of the entire apartment, I remained completely oblivious. Rolling a glass of my father’s finest cognac between my fingers, I sat quietly in an armchair and waited. Darkness swallowed me in the farthest corner of the living room as I enjoyed the burn of the alcohol.
The rustling of clothes, the jingle of keys, and feminine laughter alerted me that I wasn’t alone anymore. Bile rose in my throat with its bitter taste as the shrill sound continued and became louder. Suddenly, the living room was bathed in blinding light, and my father stood entangled with his assistant, his greedy hand ducked beneath the hem of her short dress.
I coughed or rather growled, and like an experienced felon, my father disentangled himself instantly from his companion. He regarded me with a disapproving look on his face while the woman seemed to have a hard time recovering. She was flushed and winded, and if her ruffled state was any indication, absolutely ready to fornicate. I was repulsed.
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