Because even as he keeps talking—rambling about some business deal, some upcoming expansion I should care about—Idon’t hear a fucking word. All I hear is her laugh; all I see is her leaning in closer to her friend, her hand brushing the other girl’s arm.
The obsession doesn’t falter. It sharpens.
And Marcus notices.
“You want her,” he says finally, voice dropping.
I turn my head, meeting his gaze dead-on. Cold. Deadly. “I don’t want. I take.”
For the first time all night, he shuts up.
But the damage is done. He knows.
And worse—he saw the crack in my armour.
I downed the rest of his scotch in one gulp, slamming the glass back into his hand, and cut my gaze back to Brooklyn.
She’s mine.
Even if it kills me.
Truth Or Dare
Kate barely makes it up the stairs before she’s muttering something about her head and collapsing face-first onto her bed. I pull the covers over her, kick her shoes off, and linger for half a second, making sure she’s breathing evenly.
She is. She’s out cold.
Which means I’m not alone anymore.
Because when I step back into the hallway, he’s there.
Leaning against the wall opposite, sleeves rolled to his elbows, collar undone, eyes black as sin. Waiting.
The air shrinks between us.
“You shouldn’t drink so much,” he says, voice low, rough.
“She’s your daughter,” I shoot back, arms folding across my chest. “Maybe you should be the one telling her that.”
His mouth curves, but it isn’t a smile. It’s darker. “Maybe I was talking to you.”
Heat slams into my spine. I want to tell him I wasn’t drunk; I want to tell him he’s infuriating—but all I manage is, “I’m fine.”
“Good.” He pushes off the wall, closing the space between us in two steps. “Then you can play a game with me.”
I blink. “A game?”
His hand brushes my wrist, not enough to grab, just enough to scorch. “Yes. A game.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“You will be.” His voice drops lower, silk over gravel. “It’s called Truth or Dare. Except there are no truths. Only dares. And you don’t get to say no.”
My throat dries. “That’s not a game. That’s?—”
“Control,” he finishes for me, leaning in until his mouth grazes my ear. “And you like it.”
I should walk away. I should slam my door and lock it. Instead, I whisper, “What if I lose?”
