Page 38 of Marcellus: House of Drakos
But even Bernard could hardly believe it. It was a shocker to Savannah too. But she didn’t react. She didn’t know what to say! After seeing what happened to Niko in that intersection,she was deeply shaken. If she were to be truthful with herself, she was scared. And she was in a strange place too? She didn’t want to go home alone, and she didn’t want to be in some room in that big mansion alone.
Being taken to Marcellus Drakos’s room sounded like a reasonable option to her.
Marcellus looked away from the screen. “He’ll look after you,” he said to her.
“Thank you,” she said to him. She didn’t know what else to say. And then she followed Bernard toward the exit.
When they got to the doors, she glanced back at Marcellus. But he was already watching that video once again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When Marcellus made it to his bedroom upstairs, Savannah had taken a shower, put on one of his big shirts, and was in his bed on her back. She looked adorable to him. He didn’t know why, but every time he saw her face it made him smile inside. It made him feel warm inside. It was a welcomed sight for him to behold.
Not just because of how she made him feel specifically. But because of what those feelings made him do about it. To have Savannah in his bed with him at a time like this felt like the icing on a cake. Other women gave him the cake: their warm, naked bodies against his warm naked body. But no woman had given him anything more than that, not even his numerous baby mamas. Yet he already knew that Savannah, with her toughness and her refusal to give up on his son and her willingness to not let his status or wealth intimidate her, gave him more.
Before Marcellus entered the room, Savannah had been presumptuous as hell. She took a bath in his ensuite shower, first and foremost. Then she handwashed her shorts and jersey and panties and hung them over the shower door to dry, figuring she’d at least have something fresh to wear until she could get home and get more clothing. That was, if Marcellus still thought it was safer for her to stay at his house. She couldn’t imagine why anybody would target her, but she’d seen enough true crime dramas to know that a known association, sometimes, was enough.
Then she brushed and gargled using one of the numerous toothbrushes and travel-size toothpaste and mouthwash bottlesas if his master bedroom was more of a hotel suite than a place he often laid his head. In fact the entirety of what she’d seen so far of his house seemed un-lived in to her. Like a showhouse rather than a home. She knew Niko once said his father owned many homes outside of the United States, but she assumed he was in the States as much as he was in those foreign lands Niko mentioned. But as soon as she walked into his bedroom, she knew that wasn’t the case. That once a month visit Niko talked about appeared to be about it.
It was so immaculate and gently used, that she even asked Bernard about it when they first entered the room. “Is this his bedroom?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I mean the bedroom that he sleeps in?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Although he was quite nice to her, and even smiled at her question as if he understood why she would ask it, he wouldn’t give her any details. He would only say yes and then he said good night. Which meant he was loyal to his boss. As so he should be.
But when Marcellus entered the room, she stared at him to gauge his reaction to her laying in his bed. She wasn’t at all sure if he expected her to getthatcomfortable. But when she saw that twinkle in his bright eyes, as if he was pleased by her presence, she relaxed again. He made her feel at ease all the time, something no man had ever done for her. And the few times she slept in a man’s bed, she always felt as if it was performative rather than a genuine moment of intimacy. She felt she had to perform, and perform well, or their relationship would be dead in the water. Those men never wanted her, but what her body could give to them. Until she got older and was working fourteen-hour days. They stopped wanting even that from her. It was never any intimate connection with them. Butseeing Marcellus and that sense of calm he gave to her, she felt nothing but intimacy with him.
And that look on his face, as if she pleased him on every level, made her comfortable being herself. “I borrowed your shirt after I took a bath in your shower and used one of your unopened toothbrushes and toothpaste and mouthwash,” she said to him all in one breath. “Hope you don’t mind.”
Marcellus began removing his suitcoat and tie and shirt, all the while staring at her as if he was studying her. “Why would I mind?”
“I did a lot without permission is what I meant. I did extra. But I knew you were downstairs dealing with Niko’s situation and I didn’t want to bother you with anything so petty. But I’ve known plenty petty men in my time. I just didn’t want you to go in your bathroom and get all upset that the towel isn’t exactly how you left it or the soap is soggy or the fact that I opened brand new stuff like I did. That’s what I meant.”
As he slowly undressed, Marcellus continued to stare at her with amazement in his eyes. He was staring so much so that she hardly noticed he was undressing. He hardly noticed it either. Because his mind wasn’t on the fact that he was pleased to have a woman in his bed, and that he was getting naked in front of that woman, but it was the woman, not the circumstances, that had his undivided attention. He still felt that strong connection to him even during such trying times. He was drawn to her again.
But there was something irrefutably impressive about her too. He saw an innocence in her, but also a great maturity mixed into it too, that he’d never seen in any one woman before. As if she’d been there, done that, and had the receipts. But also as if she had no guile in her. As if she called them like she saw them and if you didn’t like it tough. As if she could be trusted to tell him the truth no matter how hard it would be on him or hispsyche, or how badly it would negate his affection for her. He’d never known anybody like her.
Every woman he’d ever been with, including his baby mamas to this day, all wanted to please him. He knew it wasn’t because of him, but was more about what being with him could do for their statuses and their financial bottom lines. He was the center of their universe whenever they were in his presence. But this woman, this Savannah Richardson, made clear to him that he wasn’t the billionaire aeronautics wiz who took a nothing company and turned it into the third largest aircraft manufacturer in the world, but he was just a man to her. Whereas all those other women suffocated him with their desires to please him and to keep him exactly where he was, she gave him room for growth.
But as he continued to stare at her as if he was dissecting her, Savannah suddenly realized what was really happening before her very eyes when he stepped out of his shoes and then his pants and briefs. And suddenly the man in the suit in his own house, as if he had no clue how to get comfortable, was so comfortable in front of her that he had removed every stitch of clothing on his body. A body, her eyes quickly roamed down and noticed, that was replete with ribbed abs and muscular biceps and a penis, thick and long, that was already aroused.
When she looked from his penis into his gorgeous face, she knew in that instant that she was in trouble. It was as if she realized he was expecting a prize from her that she wasn’t offering. It was one thing for her to lay in his bed. But she should have known he wasn’t inviting her to his room for her health!
Marcellus could see the lustfulness in her eyes, but also the concern when she came to the realization that she was about to share a bed with a naked man. But he couldn’t help it. He never wore clothes to bed and he wasn’t about to start at this latedate. Besides, he was too exhausted to do anything but undress and get in bed. It was too much for her all she had to do was get out.
“Move over,” he said, as he began getting under the covers.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Savannah would have been glad to move all the way over to the other side of that California King, given that she was apparently laying in the spot he normally slept in, but as she began to scoot over, he stopped her from going too far from him by grabbing her by her waist. He could tell, by the feel of her body beneath his dress shirt, that she was naked beneath that shirt too. Which pleased him mightily. He had monumental problems on his plate. But she wasn’t one of them. He needed a respite, if only for a few minutes, and she was it.
By grabbing her by the waist and stopping her from scooting over any further, he kept her within an inch of his body as he placed the bed coverings over both of them. He also kept his arm around her waist, forcing her to turn onto her side facing him. But he remained on his back.
She was worried about the optics. How was she going to tell this stressed-out man who was already aroused by her mere presence in his bed that she wasn’t that kind of girl? How did it look to him that she had taken a bath in his shower, had put on one of his dress shirts, and had gotten into his bed as if she was waiting for him? But yet she expected him to believe she wasn’t that kind of girl? Any man would laugh her to scorn if she tried that line on him. Was he any man too?
