Page 5 of Sorcia's Heart
“Just eat your lasagna,” she muttered, though her voice lacked the bite she’d intended.
Marcus didn’t grin this time.Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady and earnest.“I’ll eat,” he said, his tone gentler now, no longer baiting her.“But let’s get one thing straight—I don’t like seeing you this way.Wounded.Worried.Whatever it is, Sorcia, I’ll fix it.”
Her fork paused mid-air, her lips pressing together as she struggled to maintain her composure.He always did this—slipped past her walls with those maddeningly tender moments that left her feeling both comforted and furious.
“I missed carbs,” she said at last, the words a deflection as she reached for her wine.She swirled the deep red liquid in the glass, letting its earthy aroma fill her senses.“Not you.”
Marcus allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch upward, but his usual smirk was absent.“Of course.The carbs,” he murmured, his voice warm with amusement but his eyes watching her closely, studying every nuance of her expression.
She took a slow sip of the wine, savoring the way it lingered on her tongue.“And you’ve always been good at picking wines.I’ll give you that.”
He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tracing the rim of his own glass.“See?Progress.”His tone was light, but his gaze remained steady, protective.“Now, if you can admit I’ve been right about at least one other thing in my life, we might actually get somewhere.”
Sorcia set her glass down with more force than necessary, her eyes narrowing as she met his gaze head-on.“The only thing you’ve ever been right about is leaving.Feel free to try that one again.”
The words hit like a slap, but Marcus didn’t flinch.Instead, he held her gaze, the strength of his presence wrapping around her like a silent vow.“I’m not leaving,” he said quietly, his voice firm but free of arrogance.“Not this time.”
For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them taut with unspoken tension.Sorcia looked away first, picking up her fork with a huff.“Just eat your lasagna, Marcus.”
But this time, her voice wasn’t nearly as convincing.
He barked a laugh, grabbing two slices of garlic bread.“Harsh.But you’re going to want me to stay when you hear what I have to say.”
“Unlikely,” Sorcia retorted, closing her eyes as she took a bite of lasagna.The tangy tomato sauce and creamy cheese melted on her tongue, momentarily silencing her irritation.“Oh, damn.This is good.I know you didn’t make it, but whoever did deserves a statue in their honor.”
Marcus grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that infuriatingly charming way she’d always hated to love.“I’ll let my chef know.Maybe you can send them some of your famous cinnamon rolls in return—if you haven’t eaten the entire batch before they’ve even cooled.”
Her glare was immediate, sharp enough to cut through the warm glow of the candlelight.“Mock the cinnamon rolls one more time, and I’ll hex you so hard you’ll be tasting kale for a month.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin widening to reveal the perfect symmetry of his teeth.“No need for threats, sweetheart.I respect your relationship with carbs.Truly, it’s inspiring.”
“And I respect your relationship with your ego,” she shot back, arching an eyebrow.“It’s amazing how you manage to carry it around without spraining something.”
Marcus’s laughter rumbled low in his chest, a deep, rich sound that sent an involuntary shiver through her.He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath for just a moment.“Feisty as ever.But you’re avoiding the real topic here.”
Sorcia’s eyes narrowed slightly, her posture stiffening.“Oh, let me guess,” she said, her voice laced with skepticism as she finally speared another forkful of lasagna.“You’re going to claim I have some big, catastrophic problem, and only you can solve it.Right?”
His smirk softened into something more serious, though the glint of confidence in his eyes never wavered.“Exactly,” he said, his voice lower now, almost intimate.“And this time, I’m actually serious.”
Her lips parted slightly, but she quickly recovered, setting her fork down with a deliberate clink against the plate.She studied his face, the sharp lines of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble that only made him look more rugged and infuriatingly attractive.The teasing gleam in his eyes was gone, replaced by something steadier—something that made her heart thud harder in her chest.
The change in his tone and expression caught her off guard.For the first time that evening, she saw not the insufferable, cocky ex she loved to hate, but the man who had once made her feel safe.The man who had kissed her with the kind of passion that made her forget how to breathe.
“Serious?”she echoed, her voice quieter now, her defenses wavering as she searched his face.
His eyes softened just enough to reveal a glimmer of concern beneath the confidence.“Yes, Sorcia.Serious.”
The tension in the room thickened, the teasing banter fading into the background like the last notes of a song.Her gaze flickered to his hands, now resting on the table, steady and unyielding, just like the man himself.
She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.“Then say what you came to say,” she demanded, her tone harsher than she intended, though her heart betrayed her with its uneven rhythm.
Marcus leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving hers.“I will.But first, I need you to stop pretending everything is fine.Because it’s not.And you know it.”
The weight of his words pressed down on her, making it impossible to look away.Damn him for knowing her so well.Damn him for still being able to read her like an open book.
Her fork paused halfway to her mouth, her gaze snapping to his.Despite her best efforts to remain unaffected, a small knot of unease twisted in her stomach.She hated how effortlessly he could still get under her skin, even when he was at his most infuriating.
“Start talking,” she said, her voice sharper than intended as she reached for another slice of garlic bread, using the motion to mask the tension creeping into her posture.
