Page 42 of Mending Our Chance

23 Marcus

I had made passionate love to my woman last night. My woman. I closed my eyes to picture my beautiful descendant of the Old World, a nymph reincarnated full of passionate fire that needed careful tending. I had found the woman of my dreams again after years apart. She had graced me with forgiveness and admitted the truth, setting a fire in my heart.

Felicity is mine. These words were on repeat inside my head. Vows had been spoken. Promises had been made. But I had a problem: Felicity was mending bridges with her father, and I was panicking. Things could easily spiral out of my control.

When the sun rose high in the eastern sky, I slipped out of bed and walked the streets to make a very private, very necessary phone call. You had better pick up, you old bastard.

The noise on the streets was somewhat subdued given the time, but I knew it wouldn’t last since the Wednesday morning traffic would start and folks would leave in haste to make it to their jobs on time.

When I got Argento’s voice mail, I decided to leave a piece of my mind.

“I can’t do this. It will only hurt Felicity, and neither of us wants that right now. We can’t do business together. Rip that contract up, because I can’t sign it.”

As my finger pushed the red end button, I saw a can on the sidewalk. Kicking it with all my might, I cursed as my foot missed and collided with a street lamp. Picking up the can to throw it into the store window to my left, I caught sight of my reflection. That haunted visage stopped me. My angst was clearly visible; it rolled off my large frame in sheets. I lifted a hand to run it over my face only to find that sweat covered my brow.

What was I doing? I had told Felicity I would not lie to her. I’d also promised her a relationship apart from our business. But here I was, still hiding from her. And this decision had me in turmoil.

“Go back to her,” the reflection whispered to me. “Tell her about the deal. Argento hasn’t even made a move to sign yet. His bad faith delay might help your cause.”

I knew I couldn’t do that. It was her father, not some other investor practicing bad faith. There had to be another way to fix this issue without her ending up hating me. She had told me to do what was best for the company. I had wanted to save her aunt. My intentions were noble—it was this damned outcome that was driving me mad.

Heaving a great sigh, I turned and found a recycle bin for the can, then I made my way back home, aware that there was no course but to forge ahead and hope for the best.

Arriving back at the apartment, I discovered my Mediterranean goddess was in the shower. Of course, thoughts of her naked, soapy body had my cock hard in an instant—not that it took much where she was concerned. I wanted to join her. I cracked the door to watch that heavenly body, all full of soap, twist and turn in the water. It was as if a damned trance had fallen over me, my feet refused to move.

Eventually, she shut the water off and stepped out. I slunk back into the drab studio before she could notice me. I felt terrible. I should have gotten down on my knees last night and professed my love for her. But I’d held back. Because you’re a snake. A dirty, filthy man who has betrayed her. If you sign with Argento, you might not ever be able to tell her how you feel. She needs to hear it if she’s going to stay with your dumb ass.

My only hope was that Argento would get my voice mail and see reason at my request. That he would grasp the bigger picture and not want to hurt Felicity. We could destroy the contract, never having to sign the damn thing, and I could walk away from it all never having to admit what I had gone and done behind her back.

A damp body, wrapped in nothing but a towel, came out of the steamy bathroom.

“I saw you,” she whispered.

“Oh yeah?” I gave her a smile, but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes. “Well, I’m not sorry. I liked what I saw.”

Felicity dropped the towel. “Good. Let’s be a little late to the office—just this once.” When I hesitated, she crooked a finger at me. “Come on, partner, we work all hours of the night and on weekends. What’s a half-hour every now and then?”

“I suppose the bosses can set their own hours…” Sweet lord, I was done for. I rose from the couch and stalked over to her. Grabbing her slippery body, I carried her to my bed without breaking my stride. “I hope you don’t regret this later today.”

“Marcus, I could never regret you.”

Her words were a sucker punch to my gut. As the air whooshed out of my body, she claimed my mouth with hers. Struggling to breathe, I fell just a little deeper into her kiss. I had to let desire consume me—if I did anything less, she would know something was terribly wrong. The call of her body and my response were natural, free from the deceptions of my mind. Her body was begging me for attention, and I responded, keeping the anguish imprisoned deep in my mind.

~*~

Several hours later, I was sitting at my desk trying to do some work. The spread sheets before me had turned into meaningless blocks a long time ago. I was consumed with other priorities. Every damn minute I would push the button to show the screen on my phone.

And every damn minute there was nothing.

Argento had to have received my message. Which either meant that he agreed with me but hadn’t bothered to tell me so, or that he disagreed with me and was moving forward with business decisions.

I shoved my hands into my hair and wished it was long enough to pull. I was conscious that I needed to get the spread sheets finished and emailed to Felicity before she came to investigate. But part of me wanted to be a coward, complain of a headache, and leave for the day. I was too wrecked. There was no way I could face her.

The opening of the suite door barely registered. We had contract workers coming in and out of the office daily, as well as numerous other people Felicity had employed. It was the litany of boisterous Italian that snapped me out of my reverie.

No, oh hell no!

Those fucking twin sons of Argento were here, blustering into their little sister’s office. Knowing that their appearance had nothing to do with the funeral or the aunt’s estates, I cursed, my hands forming fists. I only knew one or two words of Italian, but I could follow the rise and fall of the emotions carried through the sounds. At first, there was joy and a light exchange of some sort. I sat, petrified. Then there was an explosion from Felicity. Suddenly, the tones became defensive with an edge of menace. The other shoe had dropped.

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