CHAPTEREIGHT
DENIELLE
Ethan insistedwe stop at the café Lilly and I went to the other day and pick up a celebratory treat. Ethan is fun to be around and a nice distraction from enduring Marcus the majority of the time.
With my macchiato in one hand and a bag of fancy cookies in the other, I duck under Ethan's arm, entering the house. The garage is situated opposite the basement door. My attention is behind me, laughing at Ethan, who is challenging me that I could never eat all the treats myself, when I slam into a wall. No, not a wall…a body. A very hard body.
I stop short, and before I can turn, I know who it is. I recognize the person without visual confirmation. Between a scent that is uniquely his—a combination of fresh laundry detergent, leather, spice, and currently sweat—and every cell in my body instantly experiencing a draw toward said body, I slowly pivot to meet Marcus's glower.
No, he doesn't glower at me. He's pinned Ethan down with a stare usually geared in my direction. Was he supposed to be back sooner, and I kept him from his job?
"Yo, what's up, B!" Ethan slaps Marcus's shoulder and moves past us down the hall toward the kitchen. Is he ignoring his boss's animosity, or did he not notice it?
Marcus doesn't grace Ethan with a reply. Instead, his head dips to focus on me. Fire courses up my neck, and I straighten my spine. I expect some type of vicious remark, but he remains mute.
"What?" I lace my one-word question with irritation.
A groove forms between his brows, and he cocks his head, scanning me up and down. I follow his perusal but can't find anything out of place. I wore a burgundy pencil skirt, a white cap-sleeve blouse, and my black patent Louboutins to the interview. The outfit is more conservative than I would typically show up in for work, but not knowing how stringent Denis is with his employees' dress code, I was going for safe over sorry.
"What's your problem?" The initial heat in my neck has transformed into an unpleasant burn on my cheeks, and I despise Marcus having this effect on me.
The corner of his mouth quirks up, and I follow the small movement. He leans closer, and his scent envelops me, urging me to lean into it. Before I can give in to the need, though, the Marcus I've known for six years is back.
"You're my problem,Keller." His proximity is painfully close, and any warmth in my body is snuffed out, reminding me why Marcus and I can never be friendly or civil with each other.
Without another word, he steps back. He strides in the opposite direction of Ethan, toward the door leading to the side of the house and yard—to the guesthouse because I made him leave his home.
The guilt that snakes through me and settles in my chest is halted by my phone vibrating in my hand that's also holding the bag. A sigh escapes me with a whoosh, grateful for the distraction.
I head into the kitchen and set everything down on the island. For a brief moment, images of my first time in this room appear like flashes in front of my eyes, and I shiver. The destruction, the blood… I shake my head. No. That's in the past, and it will never happen again—not with the security measures that have been put in place since.
I let my gaze drop to the countertop where my phone lies, still lit up. A frown forms on my face.
Huh?
A messenger notification sits at the top of my missed emails and texts while I was atLa Déesse.I hadn't checked it after Ethan and I left, too distracted with the excitement about my new employment.
Charlie York
My heart stutters and then picks up speed. I haven't seen this name on my screen in years. Part of me wants to delete the message unread, but curiosity about what he could possibly want has me clicking on it. The device unlocks, and I get my answer.
Hey, D. I saw you moved to LA. I was wondering if we could meet for coffee or drinks sometime?
I didn't expect that.
Before I can think about a potential response, Rhys walks in, downing a bottle of water. He is in swim trunks and has a towel draped over his shoulders.
"How did it go?"
"I got the job!" I jump in place, clapping my hands.
Rhys's expression lights up. "That's awesome! I knew you would!" He crosses to where I stand, enveloping me in a bear hug before I can protest.
"Ew, McGuire. You're wet. Gross." I attempt to wiggle away, laughing.
He drops his arms. "Sorry." His sheepish smirk makes him appear boyish, and he reminds me of the kid I grew up with. "Have you told Calla yet?"
Rhys's nickname for Lilly makes me smile. He uses other endearments, but the majority of the time, he addresses her with Calla. It's been like that since the moment she declared her love for calla lilies years ago.