Page 32 of Love Marks

“Only if you want. If it’s too much, I can just forget it. I just thought—”

“It’s fine. Leave it there and I’ll take a look. Was there anything else you needed?”

“No. That’s all. I’ll just…” She looks stung by my dismissal and side steps around the desk to walk towards the exit that I’m currently blocking. As she goes to slip past me, my arm shoots out towards hers, stopping her.

She stares up at me with those knockout eyes, blinking. She licks her lips, parting them. I realize my hand is wrapped around her arm again. Does she feel this strange tug between us too?

Get a grip!

I step back into the hallway, releasing her, and turn on my heels to stride back towards my bedroom. I slam the door behind me for good measure. Gulping in a few breaths of air, I try to calm my growing hard-on.

Fuck.

I can’t believe it. I’m utterly turned on. I force images into my brain, trying to calm myself: my father playing golf, my grandma’s toe fungus.

Come on. Come on.

Realizing my attempts are futile, I go into the shower and step into the running water. I wrap my hand around my cock and start pumping, thinking of Quinn’s soft skin and luscious lips. How good it would feel to wrap my hand around the back of her neck and bring her lips to mine. To spread her legs and lay her out like a feast.

I come fast and hard, the water pouring over me. My satisfaction is replaced by shame. I scrub down my body and hang my head with a sigh. What the hell is happening to me?

When I get out of the shower, she’s gone, thank God. I go into my office to peak at my desk and confirm that all the drawers are still locked. Sitting on my desk is the menu. I pick it up and study it. It’s ornately designed with small checkboxes for different options for each day of the week.

Why is she doing all this? Can’t she just clean the place up and be done with it? If she thinks I can’t see through this plan, she’s wrong. Trying to prove that she’s a hard worker, or whatever. Trying to prove me wrong. I toss the menu back onto my desk, frustrated that in fact, Quinn’s plan seems to be working.

Because for the rest of the night, all I can think about is seeing her face light up when I return this menu to her with my selections. And that’s dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

Chapter 17

Quinn

Things are looking up. Ever since I had the idea to make menus for Wesley, it’s reinvigorated me with a desire to prove myself. If I can ignore him and stay out of his way, I can show him what an asset I can be. With each passing day, I’m trying to show my usefulness in the hopes that he won’t fire me after our fight. I tell myself that if he were going to fire me, he would have done it already. Right?

I haven’t seen Wesley today, but he left the filled-out menu on the kitchen counter for me, so I ordered groceries for what I’ll need. I have a meeting with Sharon in a few minutes to check in, so I head downstairs and wait for her in the lobby. Eventually, she brings me into her office.

“I just wanted to check in and see how things are going with Mr. Marks. We do employee evaluations every few months.”

I pause before responding. What do I even say to that?

Oh yeah, everything is great with Mr. Marks. Except he thinks I’m a liar and a sellout and hates my guts.

I settle on just the first part.

“Everything is great,” I say, forcing a smile that I hope looks genuine. Sharon smiles back at me, so it must be working.

“I’m impressed by your initiative. Ordering flowers, candles, groceries. You’ve really stepped into the role nicely. I’m so glad Mr. Marks recommended you.”

Wait, what?

“Sorry, what did you say?” I ask, thinking that I must have heard her incorrectly.

“You know, when you started, and he had you transferred to the penthouse.” Her phone starts ringing and she picks it up, giving me the one-minute signal. She babbles on, but I’m hardly listening. My head is spinning. Wesley had me transferred? Why would he do that? Just to mess with me?

Sharon mouths I’ll email you, so I give her a thumbs up. I want to ask her about Wesley, but I shuffle out of her office, heading back upstairs.

It’s eerily silent when I get back to the penthouse. I hate how quiet it is in here. Reeling from Sharon’s revelation, I head into the kitchen to start tonight’s dinner, a classic ribeye with truffle fries.

I can’t believe that Wesley is responsible for my promotion. Maybe I should have known from the beginning. I guess it was naive to think that it could have just been a coincidence that I ended up here. He not only knew who I was this whole time, but he brought me here for some reason. Probably to torment me. Some sick revenge plan to bring me to my lowest point. Too bad for him — I’m not as weak as he anticipates.

---