marlowe
We don’t risk leavingthrough the main entrance.
Instead, we disappear into the guts of the building—the garbage chute room, the boiler maze, the dark, dank concrete maze of tunnels no resident ever admits exists.
By the time we emerge on the far side of the block, Clive is already there waiting, the engine of the black car humming and ready to move.
“Are you even going to say anything about what just happened?” I hiss, my pulse beating a hole in my throat.
“Nope,” he says, so damn infuriatingly.
I follow Declan into the car and cross my arms as I settle back against the leather seat. I sneak a glance at him. His expression is smug, but underneath he’s all stone. Stubborn as hell. I’m screwed and powerless to say or do anything about it.
And while I don’t like him, dammit, I still want him. Over and over again.
He saved my life. He must care about me on some level.
I clench and unclench my fingers. The only positive thing about this bullshit union is that he might be the only one whocan actually find my dad. That’s what I have to keep telling myself.
Leon was supposed to be that guy, but he never said he’d get him back, just that he’d help me find him. Maybe that should have made me think twice about his offer.
I still hang on to the hope that he might come up with some lead on my dad, but as time slips by, my hopes fizzle. Still, he may have tried to call or text since the wedding. Not that I’d know it since Declan has my damn phone.
I glare at hm. “Can I have my phone?”
“Why?”
“I don’t need to tell you why. It’s mine and I want it back.”
“You’re not calling thateejit.”
“I have other friends, thank you.” I mean, we’re not super close, but they’re fun to go out with. When I’m not rehearsing. Which is pretty much never.
“No.”
“Asshole.”
He only smiles.
“Maybe we can stay somewhere alone together, so?—”
“I’m Irish,” he says. “Big families are a thing.”
My clit throbs and horror fills me at the same instant. I don’t even want kids. Ugh, I don’t even want to know what my body’s thinking and why it responded like that.
“I’m not Irish,” I say flatly.
He shrugs. “We can make it work at my family’s place. There’s plenty of space. You’ll have your own room if you want, and all the pets, of course. Plus, there’s always someone around who can keep an eye on you and them.”
I grit my teeth and curse my mother. “Fine.”
But I’m determined to find a way out of there. Freedom’s so close, Ican taste it.
A few days pass and I wander around the massive brownstone, not knowing what to do with myself.
I have my own room next to his. They’re adjoining, so he can come in whenever he gets the urge. There’s also a gym on our floor that reminds me of him, a smoky musk and leather scent that makes my knees wobble. It’s what I imagine a place of ill repute might smell like…or a man who frequents such a place. A man who smells of sex and money, charm and danger.
The gym has some machines, a Peloton, a treadmill, and a rower. There are a lot of mirrors, free weights, and kettlebells. There is also a big space where I could dance, stretch, practice yoga, and Pilates, and do my ballet warmups that work out every muscle.
