Why did I love it just as much as when he did tease me?
Then he held out his hand and I took it; its warmth keeping me by his side as he guided me down the steps.
I let a laugh slip. “Look at you, being gentlemanly. Who are you and what have you done with Marcus?”
His smile was everything. Truly everything. It was one I rarely saw on him. One that told me he was happy for all the right reasons. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, Holland.” He nodded his chin at the car, pulling the door open. “After you.”
We drove through Manhattan, and all through the drive, he had the audacity to roll up his sleeves, showing off his tattoos and his muscled forearms, doing nothing but making my stomach swirl like I was a teenager seeing that one picture of frat boy Harry Styles.
I know you know the one.
It didn’t take long for us to park, for Marcus to take my hand again and guide me into a building that I recognised.
“The headquarters?” I asked, my voice echoing off the marble.
He kept hold of my hand, turning back to look at me. Then he shook his head. “Kind of.”
He took me into the building and up the lift to the very top floor. I had no idea if anyone else was here, but all the lights were off, so I assumed not. Eventually, we made our way into a stairwell and climbed flight after flight of stairs.
I heaved a sigh as I trudged behind him. “I know I said I like surprises, but you could have warned me about the cardio.”
He snickered ahead of me, his face scrunching in a way that made me want to climb a thousand more flights just to see it again. “We’re nearly there, I promise.”
And he didn’t break it. Two more flights and we reached a door.
He turned around as he gripped the handle. “Ready?”
I silently nodded, excitement and nerves joining forces in my gut.
His smirk peaked before he turned back and opened the door, letting me walk under his arm.
And then I stopped breathing.
The first thing that hit me was the twinkling lights, both dangling overhead and the ones shining from the skyscrappers you could only just see the tops of. Then my eyes drifted south to the floor, spotting a myriad of blankets—fluffy ones—surrounded by candles and fairy lights. I couldn’t see what was on the blankets, but I couldn’t care less.
His desire to do this was enough.
I stepped forward, reaching the edge of the candles, smiling like a fool because this was probably the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me. I turned around on the spot and found him behind me, his dark eyes pleading—like he was wondering whether he’d nailed it. Whether he’d done well.
I shook my head, my smile lifting. “I love it.”
The softer version of his smile beamed, his brows raising in relief. “Really?”
I nodded, walking towards him and gripping his hands like that's all they were ever meant to do. “Really.” I looked around again. "Why here?"
Marcus' head tilted as his eyes narrowed, those strands of hair that always broke free falling over his forhead. "Do you remember, back in London, after dinner with the others and you drank enough for me to carry you back to your room?"
Embarrassment flushed my already red cheeks. "Maybe."
His smile bunched, like that night was playing in his head, and he was doing everything he could not to let it break free. “You told me you wanted three things.” He counted on his fingers. “Sleep, to sleepwithme,and—”
Before my cheeks had a chance to go from scarlet to maroon, I remembered number three. “Crumpets and the stars.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them, as the blurry memories from that night flickered back—like flipping through a photo album that had been locked away in some dark attic corner. I couldn’t rememberwhyI’d said it, but I could seewhyI had. We were at that strange, quiet edge where whatever we’d been pretending—hate, rivalry, indifference—was beginning to crack. I felt safe. And apparently, drunk Cora felt even safer to admit that she wanted crumpets and the stars.
My lip quivered as I stole a breath, my eyes finding a home in his. “You’re giving me a night of crumpets under the stars because of a drunk comment I made months ago?”
“I’d do more than that to see you smile like this.” His thumb traced the back of my hand, soft and sure. “Any sane man would.”
