Chapter 25
The drive after that was silent.
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Marcus kept his eyes on the road. Both hands gripping the wheel. Driving like he had somewhere urgent to be even though
the restaurant was only a few minutes away.
Elara sat in the passenger seat watching the city as they pas it. The scene in the lobby kept replaying in her head. His father barely acknowledged her. Penelope’s condescending smile. And Marcus. The way he’d said “my mother is dead” with so much venom it could have burned the whole building down.
She wanted to ask about it. About what happened between them. But something told her now wasn’t the time.
The car picked up speed even though they were already going over the limit.
“Thanks for earlier. El.”
She turned to look at him. “El? Well, that’s new.”
“Sorry. You don’t like it?”
Elara gave him a slow look. Purposely seductive. Let her eyes linger just long enough to make it clear. “I do like it. And you’re welcome for earlier.”
His facial expression changed a bit. She saw it. The way his grip on the steering wheel changed. Like he was fighting
something.
Good.
“Italian or Chinese?” he asked after a long pause.
“Anything I’ll be able to eat, please.”
He smiled. Actually smiled. Small but real.
Marcus pulled up to a little Italian place tucked between two office buildings. Left the engine running and went inside. Came back five minutes later carrying three white takeout bags.
Elara frowned. “Who’s the third one for?”
He glanced at her. Eyes playful in a way she’d never seen before. “Our unborn kids.”
Her heart stopped.
Had he found out? Shit. How did he know? Did someone tell him? Was it that obvious? Her face felt hot. She could feel the
panic rising in her chest like water filling a sinking ship.
“Relax.” Marcus laughed. Full and genuine. “I’m joking. It’s extra just in case we’re still hungry later.”
Oh.
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Chapter 25
Right.
Just a joke.
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Elara forced herself to breathe. In. Out. Normal. Like her entire world hadn’t just turned sideways for three seconds.
They got back to the penthouse and Marcus headed straight upstairs. “Start eating if you want. I need a shower.”
His door closed.
Elara stood in the kitchen staring at the takeout bags and trying to calm her racing heart.
That was too close. Way too close.
She needed a shower too. Needed to wash off the panic and the fear and the feeling of almost getting caught.
Twenty minutes later she came back downstairs wearing one of Marcus’s oversized t–shirts she’d shamelessly claimed as hers over the past week. No bra. No underwear. Just the soft cotton against her skin.
Marcus was already in the kitchen. Black shorts. Black t–shirt that fit him too well. Hair still damp from the shower.
Barefoot.
He looked different like this. Less billionaire CEO. More human.
He opened the wine fridge without asking. “Red or white?”
Elara shrugged. “Fresh juice.”
Marcus paused mid–reach. Turned to look at her. “This is the second time you’ve turned down wine.”
“I like wine. Just not tonight.”
He studied her face for a moment. Like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Then he grabbed the juice from the fridge and poured her a glass. Poured himself red wine. Set everything on the counter between them.
They ate in silence.
Elara lasted maybe three minutes before she couldn’t take it anymore. Silence made her think too much. Made her remember she was pregnant and hiding it. Made her wonder how long she could keep this up.
“So,” she said, breaking the quiet. “Truce?”
Marcus looked up from his pasta. “What?”
God, the way he did that. That slight confused expression where his eyebrows pulled together just a little. The head tilt that was barely noticeable but somehow made him look even more attractive. How was that fair? How could someone be that good–looking just asking a simple question?
She held up two fingers in a peace sign. “Two years is a long time for this whole fake love thing. Can we at least be cordial? You know, not hate each other every second of every day?”
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Chapter 25
“Friends?” he asked.
“Yes. Friends. You know the meaning, right?”
*Remind me.”
“Someone who doesn’t avoid you for an entire week in the same house.” She pointed her fork at him. “And doesn’t look at you like you stole their cookies when they were five.”
Marcus let out a loud laugh.
Real. Full. The kind that made his whole face change. Elara had worked for him for three years and she’d never heard him laugh like that. Not once.
She liked it. More than she should.
“Deal?” She held out her hand across the counter.
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you drunk?”
She lifted her juice glass. “Just juice. Remember?”
“Could have fooled me.”
But he reached across and shook her hand anyway. His palm warm against hers. Callused in a way that surprised her. Like
he actually used his hands for something other than signing contracts.
Twenty minutes later the entire atmosphere had changed.
They’d finished eating. Cleaned up the containers. Moved to the living room and sat on the massive couch with their legs crossed like kids at a sleepover instead of two adults playing house.
Elara grabbed the remote and flipped through channels. Landed on some cooking competition show where people were
making cakes shaped like motorcycles..
“Why do they always make it so dramatic?” she said. “It’s cake.”
“It’s television. Everything has to be life or death.”
“Fair point.”
They kept talking. Stupid observations about the show, Jokes about the contestants. Random comments that didn’t mean anything but somehow made the penthouse feel less like a prison and more like a place where two people actually lived.
Then Elara asked the question that had been bothering her all week.
“So do you casually sign marriage contracts with your sworn enemies or am I just an extra special enemy?”
Marcus smiled, Leaned back against the couch cushions. “Extra special enemy.”
“I’m honored.”
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Chapter 25
“You should be.”
She laughed and threw a decorative pillow at him. He caught it without looking.
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They fell into easy conversation after that. He told her about the board meeting. About how close it had been. How Penelope and his father had almost convinced half the board to vote for interim leadership before Elara showed up with the laptop.
She told him about bribing Emeka with a Chanel scarf. About threatening the security guard with Marcus’s wrath just to get through the door.
“You’re scary when you want to be,” he said.
“I learned from the best.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
The show ended. Another one started. Some reality thing about people buying houses they couldn’t afford.
Marcus turned to look at her. His expression changed. Less playful. More serious.
“Why did you agree to it?”
The question hung in the air between them.
Elara set her juice down on the coffee table. Pulled her knees up to her chest.
“My mum.”
