“If there is nothing else?”
I don’t glance at the man seated comfortably in his chair like we hadn’t been naked in his tub only a mere hour before.
“That’s everything. Thank you, Mrs. Pym.”
The other woman inclines her head before stalking with sure strides out the door. The heavy slabs of wood are pulled shut behind her and I am alone with the man that makes my heart skip every time I glance at him.
By no means is the feeling new or even surprising. I have felt this way about him since before I knew how to recognize it. But I know what it is and why it’s inappropriate. Even with Eliah and Ames’s blessing, Marcus has always been much too grand of a desire. Too selfish for a single person. I had my boys.Hissons. Taking their father as well seemed gluttonous.
That is not to say I can take him now. Last night was a matter of business. I need Marcus Usher to balm the pain in my chest. To feed the bloodlust in my veins. I need him to fix me in a way I can’t do on my own, and yes, I will give him anything he wants in return. Even if the thing he desires is me or the space between my legs.
“Mon cœur?”
I blink out of my thoughts, realizing with mild embarrassment that I have been standing with the sandwich in my hand, staring at the door.
Face warm, I turn to him. “Yes?”
His body bows forward, then back and the chair beneath him rolls across the marble with a smooth clatter. One hand lifts and he beckons me to him.
And I go.
I circle the ship of a desk and let him pull me onto the rigid muscles of his thighs.
“Eat,” he instructs with gentle firmness.
With what appetite?I want to ask. The morsel I swallowed already is graphite in my gut. Most of me runs purely on tea and rage. I’m decently full.
“Perhaps later—”
“Now,” he corrects sharply. “All of it. No. You stay put.” The arm around my middle tightens when I try to rise. “I will feed you myself if you refuse, Linny.”
The threat is cut from angry snaps of French.
I could fight. Scream and kick my legs like a child, but to what end? Logic states clearly that I require all my strength if I wish to see my plan through. My heart refuses to agree.
Nevertheless, I take a nibble. Then another.
Marcus watches me until I finish the triangle. He pulls us under the desk and reaches across for the plate Mrs. Pym left behind. It’s brought closer to me followed by the cup of steaming tea.
“All of it,mon p’tit.”
I’m held captive and force fed the majority of the sandwiches, including his, and the neatly sliced slivers of apple, pears, and oranges. I’m so full by the end of it, I don’t have the strength to leave my place in his lap, nor does he protest when I settle my head on his shoulder and he returns to work with me half-asleep against his chest.
I’m floating in that sweet place between here and nowhere, that place where it’s just a subtle silence and nothing feels real when voices bring me back. Gruff, male ones. One close to my ear, guiding me to the surface. But I stay still and quiet while Marcus talks to … Mr. Pym, I think.
“This is everyone?”
Mr. Pym gives a subtle hum. “I checked myself.”
Around me, Marcus’s arms flex and move. Papers shuffle and something hisses free of an envelope.
“Thank you, Arthur.”
I wait until I hear the other man’s steady gait cross the room and the resounding crack of the door shutting before opening my eyes.
“What is it?”
Marcus hesitates and that has my head lifting off his shoulder to peer at the docket splayed open to a series of names.
