“You’ve already got that fire; you just need to learn how to use it to your advantage.”
I stared at him, remembering all the ways I didn’t want him this close. Then, softly, “What do you want me to do?”
His brows lifted just a little. “This isn’t about what I want.”
“Well, I don’t know what I want.”
“I find that hard to believe,” his chin jutted at me. “Start small."
My gaze drifted to my tea, my mind wandering the forgotten halls where I kept my dreams.
“I want to paint again,” I whispered to my tea.
“Good. What else?”
My throat tightened, eyes lifting back to his. “I want my shot at the Nouvelle Muse Gala.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t scoff. He didn't even know what Nouvelle was. But still, he nodded like he did.
“And?” he pressed.
“I want to fight,” I admitted, voice low but firm. “I want to stop letting people ruin me—and start making them regret trying.”
His lips parted, just slightly, and I caught it: the way his eyes softened, the brief flicker of something he didn’t let himself feel. For a moment, I wasn’t a client, or a girl he needed to keep alive. I was someone he was starting to care about. It was right there. Clear as crystal.
And the feeling behind my chest sparked.
“Then we’ll start tomorrow,” he sighed, voice measured, grounding me. He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingertips brushed my skin, feather-light, enough to pull my attention to the space between us without words. “But for now… tea. Rest. You’ll need it.”
I laughed softly, chest rising and falling with the mug pressed to me, and for a moment, I let myself just exist in the quiet warmth. Let myself enjoy whatever was happening between us because, well, after tonight, it was the least I deserved.
Marcus stayed beside me, letting the silence stretch. No advice, no orders. Just him. Solid. A presence I didn’t know I could rely on, and yet… I already did. Then he rose, moving toward the door, but paused before stepping out. Hand on the frame, his chin tipped at me, steady and quiet.
“Still hate me?”
“Always.”
His wide smile warmed me. “Good.”
And even as the door closed behind him, the weight of him lingered. Maybe now he was less a shadow, and more a tether I hadn’t realised I was holding onto.
One I didn’t entirely hate.
chapter seventeen
defiant little creature indeed
“What the fuck is this place?”
God, she was just charming, wasn’t she?
With my head over my shoulder, I glared right at her. “Watch your language.”
Those chestnut eyes narrowed. “Alright, mard arse. Not had your coffee this morning?”
I spun around and walked backwards, eyes pinned on hers as I lifted my thermos. “Got my tea, thanks.” I knew the grin I sent her way would wind her up, and right on cue, that gleam of annoyance in her eyes shone.
Had to bite back my laugh.
