Marked. Part II: Becoming Noah Baxter

by J. M. Sevilla

  “Stop,” I half sob, half choke on the word. “Tell me the truth. Is he gone?” The last word tumbles out of my mouth, forcing my hand to slap over it, eyes wide, wishing I could take it back.

  Silence overtakes the massive room.

  “Ben?” I challenge, needing a response but at the same time not wanting one, “Please tell me what this money means?”

  The axis of my existence stills and then tilts towards the man who can bring me answers.

  That is, until I hear the gruff sound of an overly infuriated man behind Benedict Cole's office doors.

  “What the fuck do you mean you don't know where she is?! FIND HER!!!” The voice explodes, making my whole body tremble. Not from fear, but from relief; a relief that almost brings me to my knees. “I don't give a fuck how you lost her!”

  I can almost feel his fury from here. I slowly turn to face the front doors, wide eyed, hand to my throat, praying that I'm not delusional enough in my love that I'm imagining all this.

  “Find her, or pray I don't find you!” The voice shouts into the phone as it throws open the doors to the CEO of Cole Private Bank and Trust.

  The ironclad form of Jay Lincoln stands in the doorway, phone inches from his mouth, skin a raging curtain of red, veins popping, murder flaring in his eyes. “Vault, we have a fucking prob..lem...” his voice lowers and comes out slow and robotic as he takes in his surroundings and sees me staring at him. His maddened features slip into stunned silence.

  We both stay rooted in our spots, eyes glued to the other.

  “She's here you shithead,” he growls into the phone. He shoves it into his pocket, eyes never leaving mine.

  I try to hush the choir singing in my veins at the sight of him, but it doesn’t help when the high soprano is hitting a five-octave in the center of my core. I didn't realize how much I missed everything about him; I've missed him so much that even though he's standing in front of me I still hurt, worse than before. I've missed his beautifully sculpted body that screams destruction; his northern light eyes; the three scars that mark his face, determining his destiny; everything right down to his uniform of jeans, gray shirt, and black combat boots.

  He looks bigger. Is that even possible, or has it been so long that I don't remember just how huge he is?

  He definitely looks tired. His eyes droop in the way people's do when they are emotionally spent. Other than that he looks exactly the same, cursing and easily letting his anger erupt.

  How long have we been standing here staring at each other? I don't think one of us has blinked. Why hasn't he come to me? Why haven't I gone to him?

  I'm the first to blink and that draws us out of our trance. Jay's expressionless face hardens and his jaw grinds back and forth, a scowl working his upper lip. I'm having a flashback to the day we first met, except this time I don't cower back. I stand up straighter and match his features.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” He grinds out.

  “It's good to see you too,” I snap, pretending that he didn't just twist the shit out of my heart with his words and demeanor. I seize the paper off Ben's desk.

  I begin my tantrum stomping, ready to give Jay a piece of my mind. Like why the hell do I have three million dollars in my name! Not once in my life did I ever think I would be pissed off to be a millionaire.

  I open my mouth as I'm fast approaching him, but I recall his anger that brought him into this room.

  My feet skid to a stop, “You were the one having me followed!”

  “Babe...” is his reply, his face showing me the answer is obvious.

  “Think you could have let me know that? Dammit, Jay!” I stomp my foot, pointing an angry finger at him with the same hand that's clutching the paper, crinkling it in my grasp, other hand at my hip, “I was seriously freaked out by him! All you had to do was have him say, 'Jay sent me.' That's it!”

  “Babe,” he has the nerve to say again, with the same expression of this being self-evident.

  “Don't you babe me, mister!” Now my hand has formed a full fist, showing him I'm ready to take him out if need be.

  He looks up to the ceiling as though he's asking for the strength to deal with me, “If you knew why he was there, you would have been over there every day with pie, trying to become his new best friend.”

  Humph, he thinks he knows me so well. I don't care if he's right.

  Jay's trying to suppress his entertainment over my tantrum.

  I'm glad he's enjoying this.

  Jerk.

  My fingers scrunch even tighter together, crinkling the paper further and reminding me why I'm here.

  I make my way closer, stopping a few feet away and tilting my head back, almost giggling at how it keeps having to tilt further and further until the crown of my head hits the start of my spine.

  “Care to explain this to me?” I slam the statement into his chest, giving it a push, but of course he doesn't budge. Damn him and his muscular awesomeness.

  His hand clutches over mine, crumpling the paper and my hand. The outer edges of his lips break out across his face into a smile that makes his eyes glow, “You're so fucking cute when you're mad.”

  I try to rip my hand away but Jay holds on tighter, pulling me into him and wrapping his arms around me, bringing his nose and mouth to the top of my head. He groans as he inhales me. I become limp in his warm arms, pressing my body closer to his, willing myself not to become a blubbering mess. I inhale him just as deeply, allowing his arms to cage me in.

  Mm, he smells the same, like masculinity with a dash of mystery and a spice that I've never been able to figure out.

  I can't believe I'm in his warm, powerful arms again.

  One of his hands moves up to feel the side of my face, his thumb trailing my lips before bringing it around to comb through my hair and then compress my head firmly against his body. I wrap my arms around him and hold on for dear life.

  “I'm just going to go to my office,” Ben informs us as he walks across the marble floor.

  I pull back just enough to turn my head in his direction, “This isn't your office?”

  Jay laughs his deep barrel laugh that rumbles inside his body, shaking mine, “You should have been a reporter. I've never met anyone that asks as many questions as you do.”

  “No, sweetheart. My real office is over there.”

  I follow his finger to the only door on the right wall. My body curves around Jay, holding onto his biceps for support to watch Ben retreat behind it. I want to follow him and see what his real office looks like.

  “I'll show it to you later,” Jay offers, reading my thoughts.

  I curve back in and beam up at him, “I love how well you–”

  I'm cut off by Jay's mouth attacking mine, forcefully and rough, his scruff grating my skin.

  I drape my arms around his neck and pull my body up. Jay takes hold of my ass, giving it a firm squeeze before lifting it so I can wrap my legs around him, smashing our bodies as tight as they can get.

  My arms circle his neck to the point that I can practically clasp my hands together in the front. His arms do the same, crushing me so hard to him that the air almost gets knocked out of me. Somewhere during all this our tongues have laced together, working their magic. Eventually we have to stop or we'll pass out from lack of oxygen, but neither of us does. Air seems unimportant right now; kissing is way more vital.

  I'm surprised when I'm the first to break away. Both our chests are hitting the other from our over excited breathing. I begin kissing every square inch of his face, his scruff like sandpaper on my chin and lips; I love it just as much now as I did the first time I felt it.

  I didn't even know we had been moving until my back is slammed down on one of Ben's couches with Jay crashing down on me. His calloused hands feel the skin under my shirt and an “ah” escapes my lips. I had forgotten the pleasurable tingles his touch brings me. Another one slips out when he sucks and bites along my neck. His mouth and tongue move along my jaw, his hands goin
g from light strokes to kneading into my flesh as they re-familiarize themselves with my body. My nails are digging into his shoulders, fighting the overpowering urge to rip his clothes off. His mouth's sucking hard on the skin under my ear, no doubt leaving a mark. I wonder if he's purposely doing that, marking what's his? Does he even view me as his anymore? I hate the uncertainty I always seem to have with our relationship. I need to get over my insecurities.

  There is a rapping noise from the main door, but Jay doesn't stop his mouth from finding mine.

  The door handle clicks and a male clears their throat, “Sir?”

  “Fuck off!” Jay growls into my mouth.

  A hiccup of a giggle escapes from my mouth and he smiles along my lips.

  “Main level security has some question about the memo you sent out.”

  “Of course they fucking do,” Jay mumbles. He pushes himself up and off the couch, swiping his head, eyes grazing my entire body before giving his attention to the man at the door. “I'll be out in a second.”

  The door clicks shut and Jay scrubs his facial scars, scrunching his eyes closed, causing his forehead to wrinkle. He grumbles words that sound like “eight fucking weeks,” but I'm not certain that's what I heard. He drops his other hand to his hip and peers down at me, “I'll be right back. Vault should have his computer on, so you can use the Internet or whatever if you get bored.”

  He admires my body again before making his way to the door. I sit up and view his broad back and lick my lips at the muscles that bulge out of his shirt.

  He pauses to speak to me, never looking back as he does, “Be prepared to tell me why the fuck you're here and not at home.”

  The door slams shut behind him. Did he seriously just have the audacity to slam a door at me?! It's been eight weeks since we've seen each other and he acts like I'm a nuisance from the moment he sees me.

  My fingers trail along my swollen lips. I smile behind them. Well, maybe not the whole time. The middle part of our reunion, I can say with certainty, I wasn't inconveniencing him; I'm pretty sure he liked that part.

  I fall back onto the couch, my smile hurting my cheeks. I was just in Jay's very alive arms. I hug myself in happiness. He has some explaining to do to, like why the hell he gave me three million dollars, but what I really hope is that we can finish what we started. Eight weeks is a long time to go without those lips.

  Chapter 14

  4:09pm

  Dear God, I'm bored. I guess telling someone you'll be right back doesn't mean the same to Jay as it does to everyone else. Then again, I can't really be all that surprised. Jay has his own way that usually contradicts the average person.

  I browsed the Internet for awhile and almost checked my email, but I wasn't sure if it could be traced. It seems silly to be paranoid about it, but Jay's already pissed at me and I don't need to add more gasoline to the fire. I drank some of Ben's whiskey from his crystal decanter and came very close to knocking on his office door, but he has that office for a reason and one of them might be for privacy.

  I spent a fair amount of time watching the wall of security screens. I had pulled up Vault's desk chair that felt like I had my own personal ass cloud. I keep wondering if I can get away with stealing it. I watched the screens show the happenings of the building from the main lobby, the offices on various floors, and this level. It wasn't as exciting as I thought it was going to be, just people going about their banking business. Vault's level is oddly very boring. The waiting area that houses his two assistants has had zero action, and the two girls hardly glance away from their computer monitors, busy at work. I don't look at the screen that displays this room; it's too weird seeing myself sitting alone in this big room.

  I want to check the two doors on the left wall to see if one of them is a bathroom, but I'm afraid I'll get caught and they'll think I'm snooping.

  I decide to go out the main door and see if one of Ben's assistants can tell me. I poke my head out the door, so I can technically say I never left.

  Wait a second. I'm not a child. Jay can't scold me for stepping outside to ask about a bathroom.

  Well, okay, he can, and he probably will, but I'm an adult (something I continually feel the need to remind myself).

  I slide my foot hesitantly out the door, testing the water before I decide if I want to dive right into the pool.

  I'm being ridiculous, just step all the way out.

  As I do I can't help but feel like a teenager sneaking out of her bedroom window.

  The girl who's desk is on the right side of me is concentrating on entering information from the paper next to her, unaware that I've entered. The other desk is vacant.

  I clear my throat. “Uh, hi,” I lamely mumble. I hate how this whole situation makes me feel like a kid needing to ask an adult for permission.

  She scrunches up her nose and pushes up her glasses with her index finger as she looks up to examine me.

  Her eyes get wide and she jumps up, knocking over some paper and pens, hitting her knee on the desk, and grimacing in pain.

  “Miss Evans, what can I do for you?” She nervously squeaks, pushing up her glasses again with her index finger before sweeping away the stray auburn strands that have fallen over her face from her loose ponytail.

  “I just wanted to know where a bathroom is?”

  Her skin turns bright red, “I'm so sorry. Please, let me show you.” She awkwardly scurries around her desk. There's something about her you can't help but smile at. She's so awkward it's cute.

  “No need to show me, just point the way.”

  She points a finger to the door on the left side of the empty desk, “It's the last door on the right before the hall turns. Directly across from it is the door to Mr. Cole's office. Don't confuse the two,” she warns, then taps her index finger to her lips, “Never mind, Miss Evans. I'm sorry, I forgot you have Portkey access.”

  What the hell is that? I'll have to ask after I finish in the bathroom. I rush out a thanks and hurry towards the bathroom, closing the hall door behind me. There's only one door on the left wall, which means that whole side is Ben's. Now I'm even more curious. I have to see it before I go.

  All the doors I pass on my right are closed. One of the doors flies open and almost smacks me. The guard Jay stole the gun from is standing there, the man Jay has told me he calls Asswipe.

  Asswipe eyes me, a sneer shaping part of his lips, “Miss Evans, if you're looking for Lincoln he's with his girlfriend right now.”

  “Well good for him. I was headed for the bathroom,” I'm detached, successfully coming across as uncaring despite the mental punch to my gut I just took.

  I brush past him, heart revving into full gear, battling with myself to not ask him what he meant by that, but I don't think I could handle it if he gave me an answer I didn't like.

  I close the bathroom door behind me and lean against it.

  Has Jay been dating another woman? Please no, please don't let him have found someone else while we were separated.

  Is that why he was so cold to me in the beginning and end of our encounter? Despite my jealousy radar beeping, I have a hard time believing it.

  I become aware of my fingers twisting Jay's ring around my middle finger. I stare at it and remember what it meant for Jay to give me something like this. I remember how he told me he loved me and saying something like that didn't come easy to him; it's huge that he expressed that to me. I remember the phone calls and the words he spoke, expressing how much I mattered to him.

  Trust me.

  His words ring clear in my ears. How many times did he tell that to me? More than a handful.

  He's right, I need to trust him and would want him to do the same for me. Getting jealous and insecure without hearing the full story will only cause arguing, heartache, and unnecessary pain.

  Trust: it's a bitch of a word.

  I do what I came in here for and hurry back out, hoping to not encounter anyone else.

  Ben's assistant is busy at work whe
n I reenter the waiting area. I don't want to go back inside that office where I'm alone, so I decide to engage her in conversation, “Thanks for the help.”

  She jumps and pushes her glasses up. She gives me what I think is supposed to be a friendly smile, but it's more of a twitchy grimace. “Of course, Miss Evans. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. I had some of Ben's whiskey.”

  A gasp starts in her chest and her eyes get wide. I can't tell if it's because I called him Ben or I helped myself to his whiskey.

  “And please, call me Lily,” I extend my hand out to her.

  She rubs her hand on her thigh before offering it to me. Her hand sits loosely in mine, shy and unsure of herself, “Harriet.”

  I smile warmly at her and notice she relaxes, giving me a half-smile that's more genuine than the first, “It's nice to meet you, Harriet.”

  “Hattie,” she shrugs, shifting in her seat and pushing up her glasses like I'm making her nervous, “Everyone calls me Hattie.”

  “So, Hattie, how long have you worked for Ben?”

  She blushes and looks down at her hands resting on her lap, “About eleven months.”

  “Is he a cool boss? He seems like he could go either way.”

  “Um...” her eyes dart around the room and she runs her top lip under her teeth, slowly dragging it along.

  I shake my head, feeling like an idiot, “I'm sorry, that's a really stupid question when you're at work in a room full of cameras.”

  Hattie looks relieved that I understand.

  The door from the hall opens and we both jerk our heads around to see who's entering. A beautiful platinum blond in a tight black business suit appears, sashaying over to her desk.

  “Hey, Hattie, did you finish entering in–” she stops when she's behind her desk and notices me. She plasters on a welcoming smile, “So sorry, Ms. Evans. I didn't see you there. Was I interrupting something?”

  What's with all the ass-kissing I'm receiving?

  “Not at all. I was bored so I thought I would introduce myself.”

  “Can I get you anything to drink?”