Chapter 18
75%
65 vouchs
Marcus drove through the city with Elara passed out in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window.
The sleeping vitamins had knocked her out cold. She hadn’t moved since he’d buckled her in.
He followed the route back to her apartment, the same one he’d taken earlier when he picked her up at eight. But midnight made everything look different. Darker. The streetlights that worked earlier were just broken glass now. Groups of men stood on corners, watching his car roll past. A woman screamed something from a third–floor window.
Marcus pulled up to Elara’s building and cut the engine.
The brownstone looked worse at night. Peeling paint. Barred windows. A front door that hung crooked like someone had kicked it in and never fixed it properly. This was where she’d been living for five years while working for him.
He looked at her. Still asleep. Face relaxed in a way it never was at the office.
He should wake her up. Walk her to the door. Make sure she got inside safely.
But his gut said no.
Not tonight. Not here. Not with those men still standing on the corner watching his car like they were deciding whether it
was worth the trouble.
Marcus put the car back in drive and headed toward his penthouse.
Twenty minutes later he parked in his private garage. Elara still hadn’t moved.
He got out, walked around, and lifted her from the seat. She was lighter than he expected. Her head fell against his chest
and she made a small sound but didn’t wake up.
The elevator ride up was quiet except for her breathing. He carried her through his front door, past the living room with its floor–to–ceiling windows overlooking the city, down the hall to the guest bedroom.
He laid her on the bed. Pulled the covers over her. She mumbled something in her sleep. Turned onto her side. Didn’t
wake up.
Marcus watched her for a second longer than necessary, then left and closed the door.
Morning hit at six AM like it always did.
He was up. In the gym. Lifting until his shoulders burned and his mind cleared. Protein shake after. Cold shower that did
absolutely nothing to wake him up properly.
He threw on a white t–shirt and grey sweatpants, still drying his hair when his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter,
Dante: Dude.
An image loaded below the message. Marcus and Elara from last night. Him carrying her to the car, her heels dangling
from his hand, her head against his shoulder.
1/4
Thi
The headline beneath it read: ‘The state’s Most Eligible Bachelor Off The Market? CEO Marcus Thorne Spotted With Mystery Woman.”
Dante: See? I told you my plan would work.
Dante: Nobody knows who she is. They’re guessing models, celebrities, everyone you’ve been with before.
Dante: “Who is Marcus Thorne’s mystery woman?”
Dante: This is PERFECT.
Marcus scrolled through the article. Speculation. Theories. People zooming in on her face trying to figure out if she was
someone famous.
Dante: Also can we talk about the way you’re holding her? Very romantic. Very “I’m in love.” Did you recreate the fire exit
scene last night?
Marcus: Shut up. Your dirty mouth is showing.
Dante: Sends laugh emoji
Dante: But seriously, you can’t announce the engagement today. It’ll look too…..
Marcus: I know.
Dante: Good. Give it a few days. Let people wonder. Build anticipation.
Marcus tossed his phone back on the counter.
A week, Fine. He could wait a week.
Footsteps on the stairs made him look up.
Elara was coming down slowly, one hand on the railing. Her hair was a disaster, black and messy, half falling out of the bun she’d tried to twist it into. She had glasses on. Black frames he’d never seen before.
And she was wearing his t–shirt.
His white t–shirt that barely hit mid–thigh. No bra underneath. Her nipples were hard and visible through the fabric, Her nipples, fuck!!
Marcus’s brain stopped working.
“Good morning.”
Her voice. Christ, her voice. Raspy and low from sleep. The kind of raspy that made his dick hard against his sweatpants.
He was getting hard. Right now. Standing in his own kitchen like a teenager.
Down. Not now. Please, not now. Down little Marcus.
“Jesus,” he said out loud, running a hand through his hair. “You’re awake.”
2/4
Barely.” She rubbed her eyes behind the glasses and walked into the kitchen. Barefoot. Those legs were on full display. “What happened last night? I remember dinner and then nothing.”
“Sleeping vitamins kicked in. You were out.”
“Oh God.” She looked around, noticing the space for the first time. The marble counters. The massive windows. Everything is expensive and clean. “This is your place?”
“Yeah,”
“Why am I here?”
“Your neighborhood looked rough late at night. Didn’t feel right leaving you there.”
She crossed her arms. Which made it worse because now her breasts pushed up and Marcus had to physically force himself to look at her face instead.
“So you kidnapped me?”
“I decided not to leave you in a building where the front door doesn’t lock properly.”
“The door works fine.”
“It’s crooked.”
“It still opens and closes. That’s what doors do.” But she wasn’t angry. Just tired. She pulled herself onto one of the kitchen stools, legs crossing, his shirt riding up high on her thighs. “Do you have coffee?”
“Yeah.”
Marcus turned to the espresso machine. Grateful for something to do with his hands that wasn’t what his body wanted to do.
He made her coffee the way he’d seen her drink it at the office. Black. Two sugars.
Set it in front of her and leaned against the far counter, putting distance between them.
She took a sip and pulled out her phone.
“We’re trending,” she said.
saw.”
“Mystery woman. That’s me.” Another sip. “This coffee is really good, by the way.”
*Thanks.”
“People think I’m a model.”
“You could be.”
She looked at him. “You’re being nice. It’s weird.”
3/4
19:54 Thu, 30 Apr G
Chapter 18
“Just honest.”
If she stayed here, Marcus realized, this would be every day.
75%
$5 vouchers
Her in his space. Wearing his clothes. Walking around his penthouse with those legs and that voice and those glasses that made him want to do things that had nothing to do with their contract.
If she moved in here, this would be every morning.
Marcus felt his dick start to strain against his sweatpants again.
Down, little Marcus. Please.
But it wasn’t listening.
If Elara stayed here, he realized, it was either going to break him or be the best thing that ever happened to him.
He wasn’t sure which one yet.
But standing here watching her drink coffee in his shirt with no bra, he knew one thing for certain.
This was going to be a problem.
AD
