Page 61 of Ruthless Secrets
I’m grateful that Andre and Lila have taken us in while we get this Alfonzo situation under control, but part of me wishes that Clara, Zoe, and I could have some more alone time with just the three of us.
I want to get to know my daughter, as well as Clara, but I can’t do that when Lila keeps stealing the two of them away from me.
To hide the fact that I’m sulking due to not being invited along on the garden playdate, I decide to head upstairs to Andre’s office and catch up on some work for Nox.
I’ve left Levi in charge while Clara and I are away, but I want to check in and make sure everything is running smoothly.
As I scroll through my inbox, I can’t stop my mind from replaying the conversation I had with Clara earlier about her past relationship. I’m not surprised to learn that she used Zoe as a way to distract herself from dealing with the trauma of learning her fiancé had knocked up her best friend.
In many ways, I can relate. At least to the distraction part.
After Melanie died, I threw myself into work and didn’t come up for air until the night I met Clara.
It seems she and I are more similar than I thought.
Maybe that’s why I formed such an attachment to her. I think she dragged me out of a depression I didn’t even realize I was in, and it’s about time I returned the favor.
I click out of my emails and open up my contacts and scroll through them until I find my PI’s number. If anyone can find Adam’s address, it’s Liam.
Clara deserves to be free of her trauma. She said so herself that she wished he could hurt as badly as she did, and lucky for her, pain is my area of expertise.
Chapter Fourteen
CLARA
The last thingI’m expecting to find when I walk into the kitchen this morning is Marco at the stove, flipping pancakes. Sam might have warned me that Marco was dangerous, but nobody warned me that he was also domesticated.
There’s something quite mesmerizing about watching Marco humming to himself as he whips up pancake batter. Or maybe it’s because he’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants that sit low on his hips, giving me the perfect view of his muscular back and shoulders.
“I can feel you staring,” he says without looking over his shoulder.
My cheeks burn as I pad over to the breakfast table and take a seat.
It’s already been laid with two plates and glasses filled with orange juice. There’s even a fresh pot of coffee and creamer too.
I could definitely get used to this.
“I’m staring at the pancakes.” I pour myself some coffee.
“Oh, yeah? You mean these pancakes?” This time, helooks sheepishly over his shoulder as he bends over, and I can’t hold in my laughter.
“Your butt is anything but flat, Marco.”
Marco holds a hand to his chest in mock horror. “Clara Peterson, you were looking at my butt? I feel violated.”
I chuckle. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I know.” He flashes me a wink. “Do you know what else is unbelievable?”
“I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that.”
He waves the spatula at me. “I was going to say my pancake-flipping skills. Get your mind out of the gutter, there are children in this house.”
“Oh, my god.” I roll my eyes.
Over the last couple of days, there has been some kind of weird sexual tension between Marco and me. It’s like we’ve gone from hating each other to secretly wanting to jump into bed together. At least, that’s what I’ve been feeling.
I know it’s likely just from being in close proximity to one another or the fact I haven't gotten laid in forever, but things are definitely shifting.
