My teeth clench, not wanting to lose it in front of him. My fury merges with the humiliation of my weakness and blends with the leftover endorphins from the second-best sexual experience of my life—the first also having been with this man.
He steps inside, letting the door shut, leaning against it with his arms crossed.
"Nothing has changed," I repeat his words to him, mimicking his posture.
I don't know what I expected. That he'd argue? Accuse me of acting like a scorned woman after I begged for his cock? Tell me thateverythinghas changed? He does neither. He dips his chin, turns, and leaves. "I'll call us an Uber. Meet you at the back entrance."
I watch the door close in slow motion. With every passing second, white-hot rage simmers in my core. The clicking sound of the latch sounds like an explosion in my ears, and my control snaps. I hurl the little basket of soap sitting next to the sink across the room, hitting the wall next to the exit.
"MOTHER. FUCKER! AAARRRGH!"
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
DENIELLE
"I thoughtyou'd be happier to see me, Nelle."
I jerk my gaze to my brother sitting across from me, my fork hovering over the massacred salmon. I peer between my lunch and Oli. All that's left is flakes of pink between the steamed veggies, and I can imagine what's going on in his head. His statement was his way of inquiring about my mental state. Maybe I shouldn't have admitted everything to him on the phone the other day?
"I am happy to see you!"I'm fine.My defense is delivered with such false enthusiasm that Elena chokes on the water she is sipping on. I do not talk like a cheerleader on a sugar high. Her violent coughing fit briefly distracts everyone from the fact that I am as sociable as our father, a.k.a. not at all.
After I reassembledthe soap dish in the club's restroom last night, I found Marcus standing with his phone in hand at the back entrance. He was typing something, swiping, typing again.
"Driver will be here in five." He didn't look up or acknowledge me further.
We completed the ride home in silence, him on one end of the back seat, me on the other. I would've gladly ridden in the trunk if it had been an option. The burn in my throat intensified with every mutinous mile. The only time Marcus glanced in my direction was when I pulled out my phone and typed out a message to Charlie.
Me: So sorry. Lilly's bodyguard is an asshole of epic proportions. Make it up to u?
I didn't know why I sent the last words. I had no intention of rekindling anything with Charlie. That train left the station eons ago and was on a different continent by now. Did he seem to want to? It appeared that way. And I let the alcohol take over my actions. He saw the picture I posted of Lilly and me at The Club and decided to show up. Weird? Maybe. But I chalked it up to us having a past and him feeling guilty about how our relationship ended.
I didn't expect Charlie to respond. It was late—or early, depending on how one wanted to see it. The three dots appeared almost instantly.
Charlie: No prob. Just let me know when and where.
I purposefully smiled at the screen. Call me petty, but somehow, I knew Marcus would care. I felt his glare in my direction before I started composing my response. The hair on the nape of my neck tickled, the same way I always knew when he was near—a reaction I used to blame on the guilt he evoked. Now…I wasn't sure.
Ignoring Marcus, I typed:Great. How about Monday after work?
Charlie: I'll be there.
We could have discussed the details over the weekend, but for the moment, I felt the satisfaction of trumping Marcus's,"Nothing has changed."At least, that was my goal.
As soon as the car pulled up in front of the house, I was out. Racing up to the main entrance, I heard the other car door slam shut, followed by heavy footsteps stomping after me. I didn't bother closing the front door and sped up the stairs. Marcus wouldn't dare make noise at this time of night. I didn't know what I was hoping for, but when I reached my room, I paused. No sound came from downstairs, and I pictured Marcus standing in the foyer, staring toward the second floor. Did I want him to chase me down?
Don't be ridiculous, Denielle.
I have no idea how long I lingered in the hallway on the second floor, listening for a clue as to where Marcus went. But there was nothing. And I didn't see him again.
"Honey, are you okay?"Oli pats his girlfriend's back.
Taking in my brother and Elena, my fingers that are not wrapped around the fork guilty of shredding my lunch begin to drum against the tabletop. Not once in my life have I been jealous of anyone's relationship. Never wished I could trade places with the happy couple. Today, though, it grates on my nerves. I don't like Marcus Baxter, let alone want tobe with him. Yet, I can't stop my thoughts from spinning, spiraling toward him. How he felt inside of me earlier in the week. How he tasted yesterday. And even worse, how he made me feel. There was no self-doubt, not a shred of panic when he touched me, no need to run. What's so special about him and his damn cock that has me bent all out of shape?
"I'm fine." Elena pounds her chest. "The water just went down the wrong pipe." She eyes me suspiciously.
Elena Stevens (unfortunately) has been around me for the past six years. She has vacationed with us, spent the holidays at our house, and I visited her and Oli as much as my work schedule would allow. She's not just my brother's girlfriend. She is a friend.
I hold her gaze, begging her to let it go. She will catch me later, even if she calls me without Oli around. She dips her chin imperceptibly and turns to Oli.