With one final breath, I raised my hand and knocked.
My heart was hammering, thudding so hard I was sure he’d see it beating through the silk of my top. I’d chosen something simple, a black silk cami with a lacy hem, the kind that almost looked like lingerie but just barely passed for evening wear.Paired with black pin-striped suit trousers and strappy diamond heels.
After a few shaky breaths, the door opened, and without helping it my entire body froze.
This was the most casual I’d seen Marcus—just a simple black tee, grey joggers, and his hair damp and freshly washed. So fresh that there was still a droplet or two of water hanging from the edges of some strands. He was pure shadow as he hung in the doorway, and not once had the darkness looked so… inviting.
My eyes held on to his as my heart only picked up its pace. After a moment, his gaze fell down my body in a way that made it feel like he’d struck a match to every part he was tracing.
His eyes were back on mine in a heartbeat. “Did you have an event tonight? Did I forget?” His tone almost sounded apologetic—the most it had been since we’d met, probably.
And now I felt bad. “You didn’t forget, because I haven’t told you until now.”
His head pulled back as he looked at himself, before his eyes softened, finding me. “No problem, give me two minutes and I’ll be out.”
My words stuttered as he turned away, but before I could think, before I could give in and let him come, I lunged forward and grabbed his hand, tugging him back into the door frame. “Wait.”
He looked down at the hand around his, and when I felt it tighten around mine, I let go.
This was the other reason I didn’t want him here tonight.
Whatever reaction my body was clearly having to him had to stop. There were only so many accidental touches a girl could take before that irrational part of her brain took the wheel. Now, little things like him standing over me like this made me nervous. And I didn’t get nervous. Not like this.
That, coupled with those whisky eyes and low voice, was exactly why I had to distance myself. At least for tonight.
My eyes fluttered shut as I inhaled a breath before breathing out, “I don’t think I need a shadow tonight.”
Just like I’d imagined, his grin went wide. “You can’t be serious.”
“No, I am.” My voice came out gentler than I meant it to. “I just… I thought maybe if I had the chance to stand on my own for a bit, I could start feeling likemeagain. And maybe then… maybe the painting would come back.”
He stepped further into the door frame, towering over me, making my stomach drop like I knew it would. “Did you hit your head and forget that there’s someone out there watching every move you make? That every second you’re on your own, you’re in danger?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t forget. But… I have to move on. It’s the only way I’m going to get back to being myself, Marcus.”
He shook his head, disbelief racking his features. “You can find yourself again and still be safe, Cora. I thought we agreed? I thought we were on the same page?”
I stood my ground. “We are. But I want to try again. I’m more prepared than I was last time.” I took a step back, hatingthe hurt I saw swirling in his eyes. “You’re still tracking me, just keep your eyes on that and you’ll be fine.”
A humourless smile possessed his face. “Is this what you want?”
I nodded, and in the aim of not having him hate me in the morning, I pulled on a tiny smile and nudged him. “Hey, last time this happened I just snuck out, at least I’m giving you an hour’s notice.” I let a laugh slip, but his face remained like stone. I cleared my throat. “I know people who are going, Florence and her boyfriend will be there because he’s starring in it, and like I said, you’ll know exactly where I am at all times—”
“It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself that you’ll be fine now, angel.” His head tilted, eyes wicked. “Have the best time.”
And with that, he slammed the door in my face, the rush of air knocking my tiny waves past my face. I flipped the bird at his door before walking to the car that had been sent, and riding away before I could convince myself that he was right.
chapter fifteen
never confuse networking with flirting. your heart my break
If Dante had lived long enough to invent celebrity culture, the ninth circle of hell would’ve been a red carpet.
It was all blinding lights, blaring voices, and camera flashes that could probably fry a small village. And the paps? As infuriating as ever. It was like they were competing to see who could shout the dumbest thing at me.
Winner of the night so far: the guy who asked if the waves in my hair were proof I’d just rolled out of bed. Charming. I walked over, gave him my sweetest smile, and suggested he find a real job.
He didn’t miss a beat—shouted back that he’d get one the second I did. Low blow, but clever enough that I had to clench my jaw to keep from laughing. I didn’t give him the win. I picked up the pace, stormed down the carpet like my heels were weapons, and ducked into the theatre before the next genius could take a swing.
