Page 22 of Mending Our Chance

11 Marcus

Felicity was pouring herself a second glass of wine. The Chinese takeout was on the floor next to some scattered papers. It was late. Hazel had gone home many hours before and we’d moved our business meeting to a more informal session from the conference table onto the floor. Felicity was looking delectable; relaxed and comfortable in her stockinged feet.

After taking a break in the afternoon, we were back at it with gusto. I didn’t know how much longer we could hold up these hours, but Felicity brushed off my concerns for her well-being with a comment that most businesses required long hours—lawyers, for instance, did it all the time. So, I had let her work into the dark of night, keeping her company and assisting her when necessary.

“So, we make the products and sell them ourselves? Not sell the prototypes and rights?” I was hesitant. The long day was beginning to take its toll. How Felicity was still going strong, I had no idea. Blinking hard, I tried to refocus on the data she had drafted in spreadsheets on the laptop screen.

“Keep everything in-house; no investors,” Felicity repeated.

“And what was the reason for that?” I sneaked a sidelong glance at her for the umpteenth time as she rose to grab something from the tabletop, then I looked at the projected revenue column and blanched at the net operating costs.

Felicity didn’t seem to notice. “We aren’t trading the power to anyone else,” she continued as she plopped back onto the floor and tore off another post-it note with her free hand. In her other was a cup of red. She could handle her wine—it was as if her blood was fueled with the stuff. “We can slide by without any more funds until we launch our products.”

“But we need more money,” I protested. I was still uncomfortable with her contribution. It was all too much—her money, her help, her presence. I didn’t deserve it.

Felicity waved her hand. “No, we need a sale and we need press. That money was ample and will hold us over.”

My gaze zeroed in on her features and the words tumbled out of my mouth. “May I ask what you were saving it for? Were you going to start your own business?” I needed to gauge her reaction and see if there was anything to read into it.

She remained silent. Yet, as the silence drew on, my strong, beautiful angel stared up at the ceiling for a brief moment before her face crumpled and she hurriedly buried her face in her hands.

“Felicity!” I jumped up, almost knocking over my mug of bourbon.

“It’s nothing,” she choked.

Unable to stay away, I pulled her toward me and wrapped my arms around her petite body as I buried her face into my neck. But moments later she broke from my grip and stood up.

“What was the money for?” I questioned her again. My tone was sharper than I meant it to be but she did not hesitate to respond.

“It was for my aunt,” she admitted. Then she sighed. “It’s always about my aunt—or the damned family.” She paused, looking out the window toward the spectacular night time view of the NYC skyline. It took every ounce of willpower not to gather her close again as she added, “I was going to save her given her insurance wouldn’t cover the experiments that she needs.”

Instead, she was saving my miserable hide. There was only one thing I could say. “Felicity, thank you.”

She turned ever so slightly, those black eyes narrowed, but that smart mouth of hers pursed in a teasing pucker. “What, for the kiss this morning?”

“No,” I chuckled, already feeling a stirring in my pants at the idea. “It was a good kiss, don’t get me wrong, but I was saying thank you for the fact that you’ve saved my ass. This business wouldn’t have a chance without you.”

“I’m saving me too—this is my business.” My dark haired goddess flashed me her sassiest smirk, but there was also a beam of pride in her shining eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said, giving me a wink. “I’ve got you now. And I promise you that I’m putting this company first, and as I’ve said before, I expect you to do the same.”

A mixture of relief, awe, and gratitude shot through my chest. It took only a moment to come around the table, closing the distance between us. Sticking out my hand in mock formality, I sincerely promised, “I swear to do what is best for our company.” We shook hands, sealing our promises, but I needed more. Judging from the hungry look in her eyes, I took a gamble that she did too. Refusing to let go of her hand, I rubbed my thumb over the back of her knuckles. “That kiss. Can we continue it?”

“Maybe,” she spoke just above a whisper. My mouth dried up at her hesitation—I had been so sure of the desire I sensed rolling off of her. I stood there frozen until her next words relaxed me. “I’m not saying no, but I don’t think it is a good idea to start two such major things in one day.”

Her cocky half-smile reassured me. My own yearning had settled low in my belly; I was aching for her. But too afraid to lose her again, I didn’t push. Lifting her knuckles to my mouth, I brushed my tingling lips across them, silently promising her more when she was ready and praying that she would be soon. “I would like that, but I’m not going to make any advances without your express permission.”

“You don’t have to be scared that you’ll push me away,” she assured me. “But I’m still uneasy about where we stand personally and where we are going.”

“What can I do to lay your mind to rest?” My eyes lifted to find hers had filled with a burning intensity that I remembered well.

“I’ll think on it. We’ll talk later about where we stand outside of work, after we have some business hours under our belt. But just know that when it comes to our company, I’m in this for keeps.”

Those words—that promise. I heard them and thanked my stars for this woman. It might take some time, but my number one priority had just shifted to hearing her say those words about us.

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