by Lynda Chance
“Decor?”
“Right. Decor. All I did was ask Joy to call a company. The penthouse is just some place I sleep—” He frowned and then continued, “or it used to be.”
“It’s fine, Marco,” she soothed.
His teeth gritted and he was about to begin arguing when he looked over her head and saw Mathew Kennedy approaching the table. Mathew fucking Kennedy. The only place where his business world crossed his debauched past, goddamn Mathew Kennedy and his slut of a wife. His evening was about to go to shit.
Natalie saw the expression that came across Marco’s face and almost felt sorry for whoever or whatever had put that look in his eyes. She watched as his gaze became pointed, his jaw clenched, and ropes of tension bracketed his mouth.
His reaction fled her mind when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder and a large body loomed up next to hers. She jerked her head around to face the newcomer just as she saw Marco rise from his seat and throw his napkin on the table.
Mathew Kennedy stood beside her, squeezing her shoulder. Panic assailed her—not from the hand on her shoulder, but from Marco—standing to his feet and looking as if he was preparing to go in for the kill.
Whatever Marco was about to do or say was abbreviated when a middle-aged woman, dressed to kill, strolled past Mathew Kennedy and rested her hand on Marco’s lapel.
“Marco, sweetie—why the glum look? Aren’t you glad to see us?”
Natalie felt bile rise up in her throat, both from the sickening caressing touch still on her shoulder and from the familiarity of the woman’s hand on Marco. Confusion and nausea filled her senses and she sat in her chair, unable to move as paralysis seemed to take over her body.
“Nora.” Marco’s tone was short—totally pissed as he reached down and took the woman’s hand from his person and let it drop. “Since you’re here with your husband and because I like to think I’m a reasonable man, I’m going to give you the opportunity for this encounter to end—verbally, if you will. You’ve got three seconds to convince him to release her or you’ll be taking him out of here in an ambulance—or a hearse.”
Natalie sucked in a breath and stiffened even more when a waiter appeared at their side just as the woman, who she now knew to be Nora Kennedy, put a restraining arm on her husband. “Mathew, darling, let go, sweetheart, we won’t be playing tonight.”
“Is there a problem?” The waiter, approximately six feet tall and athletically built, interjected.
Natalie held herself completely still and waited to see how this would play out. She was feeling physically sick. And about to faint, when finally, the hand was lifted from her shoulder.
Mathew Kennedy’s voice boomed out. “No problem, no problem. We were just about to get a table, weren’t we, hon? Good to see you, Marco.” Natalie felt his chilling eyes turn to her. “Natalie.”
They both turned to go, Marco pulled a bill off a wad of cash and handed it the waiter. “That should cover it. Not your fault.”
With that, he turned and pulled her from her seat, locked his arm around her waist and led her from the restaurant.
He pulled her into the dark of the night, opened the passenger door of his car, and pushed her down into the seat. She swung her legs in, as if her body were on automatic, and lifted her eyes to his.
Marco looked down into Natalie’s wounded blue eyes and a river of guilt and shame hit him in the guts so hard he bit down on his lip until he tasted blood. She was beautiful, sweet, and as near to innocent as anything or anyone he’d ever met. And he was tainting her. Exposing her to deviant people and fucked-up, sick things that she should never even know about, let alone get close to. He hated himself in that moment. She was beyond good and kind—and he was fucked-up—totally beyond redemption—totally unfit for someone like her.
He thought about the day the doorman and the concierge had thanked him for the cookies his housekeeper had baked for them. His mind supplied him with the accolades that Joy had reaped over Natalie. Was that only because his assistant had hated having to deal with Tanya and her pure bitchiness? He didn’t think so. At the time it had seemed more of a warning to him; she had told him how nice and innocent Natalie seemed. She didn’t dare try to warn him off her; she had only casually praised the girl while giving him a pointed look.
And Joy was right. Natalie was nice and innocent.
He should let her go.
There was no fucking way. He wouldn’t let her go. He would try his damndest to keep her away from the people who colored his past—but he couldn’t let her go.
She was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
He clicked her door closed, his mind on getting her back to his penthouse and locking her inside the bedroom with him as he walked around and sat down behind the wheel of the car.
Her cell phone was ringing and she answered it as he started the car and pulled away from the curb.
He unabashedly listened in on her side of the conversation.
“Hey.” Her voice was shaky but became steadier as she went on. “Really? That’s great, Justin!”—“Yes, I’ll tell him.”—“I’m fine. When do you think you’ll be home?” Marco glanced over at her and saw that her face had fallen. “Oh. Okay. Be safe.”—“Yeah, I’ve talked to her. She’s fine but she’s still got him freeloading off her.” Another pause. “No, trust me, I won’t go back as long as he’s still living there.”—Yes, I promise.”—“I love you, too. Bye.”
She ended the call and slipped the phone back in her purse just as they were coming to a red light. Marco turned and looked over at her. “The cousin?”
“Yes. He said to tell you he’s putting in an extra rotation and is getting a huge bonus for it. He’ll have the money to pay you back soon.”
“It’s not his debt, Natalie. I don’t want his money. I won’t take it.”
“If it’s not his debt—then you mean it’s my debt.”
“Yes.”
“But you said the debt was cleared—I knew you didn’t mean it.”
“It is cleared—” he gritted his teeth. “It’s never been about the goddamn money anyway. You know that.”
Her face lost color and the light changed.
They drove in silence the rest of the way home.
****
When they arrived at the penthouse, Marco tossed his keys on the coffee table and grabbed her hand and pulled her down on the sofa with him. “Tell me the rest of it.”
“Rest of what?” She shifted to face him.
“You told your cousin you’ve been talking to someone. Who’ve you been talking to?”
She studied him, feeling the need for some small measure of preservation. “I have friends, Marco.”
“I know that.” He put his hand to his mouth and stared her down. “Who?”
She rolled her eyes at him and said simply, “My mother.”
“Your mother?” he asked sharply, surprise coloring his tone. “Your mother has a freeloader living with her who makes you so uneasy you won’t go see her?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Wow. You really listened in on that conversation, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I sure the fuck did, Natalie,” he stated firmly.
She drummed her fingers against her biceps and remained silent.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
“No.”
He growled low in his throat and began to reach for her. “Natalie—”
She jerked away from him and interrupted, purposely trying to throw him for a loop, “What kind of game were the Kennedys disappointed they wouldn’t be playing tonight?”
He ignored the change of subject without a flinch and continued with his interrogation. “It doesn’t take a goddamn rocket scientist to know what the fuck’s going on. Your mother has a low-life son-of-a-bitch living with her who wants you. Does she know?”
“Are you clean? Have you been tested?” She said that to piss him off as well, but she also really needed to know.
“Yes to bo
th.”
“Promise, Marco.”
“Swear to God, Natalie.” He continued to look at her. “Does your mother know?” he asked again.
Natalie eyed him thoughtfully and refused to answer with a challenge of her own, “So—have you slept with Nora Kennedy?”
He drew in a deep breath and released it. “No—I haven’t slept with her. Not from a lack of her trying.”
Natalie studied him, inordinately relieved to hear his denial. She didn’t think to doubt him. “I’m impressed. An actual answer. I didn’t really expect one,” she said only half sarcastically.
“Because you won’t answer my questions? You deserved that one, baby.” He reached out to touch her again, more gently than before, and this time she let him. His hand took hers and entwined it with his, his thumb rubbing over the backs of her fingers.
She watched his thumb making circles over her flesh and felt it all the way down to her toes. “I don’t deserve all of them?”
“Probably. But then there would be more questions—and more—and you’d find out what a depraved mother-fucker I am and you’d try to leave me.”
“Try, Marco? If I wanted to leave you—I’d pick up and leave you.”
“It wouldn’t be that easy.”
“No?” she questioned softly.
“No.”
“Why?”
“We’re getting a little off-track here, Natalie. I want to know what the fuck was going on at home. Did the mother-fucker touch you? Did he hurt you? Do I need to go to Vidor and kill him? Is he the reason you came to Houston?”
Natalie sighed and knew she wouldn’t get out of this without spilling her guts. He was like a junkyard dog tearing after a bone he was determined to get. When he wanted something, he was completely tenacious and she knew he wouldn’t be letting this go. She looked him straight in the eye and answered him as quickly and as simply as she could. “Yes, my mom has a scumbag living with her. Yes, he attempted to touch me when she wasn’t in the room. He also tried to sneak into my bedroom at night but never made it. He never got me alone, so he never hurt me. The second time he tried it, I left home. My mom doesn’t know and I’m not going to be the messenger. Trust me, she’ll figure out what a douche he is before too long all on her own. There’s no need to screw up my relationship with her. So, yes, I came to Houston to get a job and to mark time. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Mark time?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
A scowl crossed his face and his voice grew to an alarming level. “I’m sorry. Mark fucking time?”
“Marco—”
“That’s what you’re doing here with me? Marking time?”
“I didn’t mean it like that—”
“What the fuck did you mean, Natalie?”
“What do you want from me, Marco? You want your twenty-thousand dollar payback—then you don’t want it. It’s never been about the money. What the hell does that mean anyway?”
His eyes glimmered with anger as he watched her and his grasp tightened on her hand, but he remained silent, simmering next to her.
She tried to jerk her hand back but failed. “Don’t act like your feelings are hurt, damn you. I said I was marking time. Big freakin’ deal. You said we had an arrangement. An arrangement, Marco,” she reiterated sharply. “You want to compare hurt feelings? You told me we weren’t friends—you told me you didn’t want a girlfriend.” She tugged viciously on her hand until he released her. She immediately stood and crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I’m not your damned girlfriend, Marco!” she accused hotly. “What the hell am I, then? Your latest fuck? No, I know, I’m the one who takes care of that aspect of your life.”
“Don’t talk like that, Natalie. I don’t like it.”
“Well, too damned bad. I’m not your girlfriend. I’m not your anything. I guess you don’t get the privilege of telling me how to talk, or what to do, or when to leave. So yeah, I’m marking time until my mom comes to her senses and I can go home. She’ll really need me then. I’m all she has.” She turned to leave the room and hadn’t taken more than two steps before she was grabbed from behind and jerked around to face him.
He glared down at her menacingly. “Cut the crap. I don’t like it,” he thundered in a sneering snarl.
“I don’t really care if you like it! I don’t care for how this ‘agreement’ is working out. I didn’t like it from the beginning and I like it even less now.”
“You agreed to it fast enough.”
“Yeah? So what? You’re hot. You’re sexy. And you were damned determined to get your way. I caved. So sue me, really. Just sue me for the freakin’ money and let’s get this over with.”
“I’m not going to sue you, Natalie. We’ve had this goddamned discussion before. Money isn’t what I want from you.”
“Yeah? Well treating me like a possession that you only take out to play with at night isn’t going to cut it anymore. I want more. I’ve never harmed you. I’ve never done anything to be treated with disrespect. I deserve better.”
“I’ve never disrespected you. I—” He paused before continuing, “I’ve never respected anyone more than I respect you. That’s the God’s honest truth.”
“You have a sorry-ass way of showing it, Marco.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Some dignity would go a long way.”
“Dignity?”
“Yeah, dignity. You know, having a reason to live here with you? Having at least the small ability to claim you as my boyfriend. Being able to hold my head up in public—to look myself in the mirror without shame. Being something more than the maid you sleep with.”
“You’re not the maid.”
“No? I clean your home. I cook your food. I wash your clothes. Those are the things that either a maid or a girlfriend does. Or dare I say it? A wife? But we won’t go there. Marriage isn’t something I’m dangling for. Far from it. I’m not totally stupid. All I want is the face-saving claim of us being a couple. I cringe when we’re out in public. I’m always worried we’ll run into someone you know—and then what? You’ll introduce me as what? The maid who you take out to supper? Your personal live-in call girl?” Natalie slashed her hand through the air and turned away. “I’m done. I’ve got nothing left to say.”
“Natalie, I don’t know what to say. I don’t see you in the derogatory way you’re describing. I—”
She turned back around to face him with accusation in her eyes. “I hate that you have the power to hurt me. How did this even happen? How has this escalated from cleaning your house to avoid a lawsuit into what it is now? And I don’t even know what it is. You’re overbearing and want your way. And I’m what? Supposed to do as you say? Supposed to be a good little whore—”
He was beside her in a flash. His arms gripped her tightly and he shook her just once, just enough to contain the diatribe that was quickly turning into vitriol, that spilled from her mouth. “Shut the fuck up. Just shut the fuck up.” One hand left her arm and slid into her scalp and held her tightly. “You want to be my goddamned girlfriend? That’s what you want? Fine. You’re my girlfriend. We’re a couple.” He clamped his jaw tight. “Does that make you feel better?”
She shook her head back and forth. “It doesn’t have to be this way. I don’t want to force you into a relationship you don’t want. I can just leave. Justin will pay you back soon, and then I can pay him back.”
“You’re not going anywhere. Get that shit through your head.”
“You can’t keep me here through intimidation. Get that shit through your head, Marco. If I stay—we need to be a couple. If we’re a couple, you need to understand that it’s because it’s what we both want. If you threaten me—try to intimidate me—that shit won’t fly. See, here’s the thing. I know you’d never hurt me. I feel it in my bones. So that crap won’t work. And if it was working? If you were scaring me? I’d leave you in a second flat.” Her words were firm, even, and she s
tared into his eyes while she made the speech.
He listened closely and Natalie believed he absorbed everything she said. His hand in her hair gentled almost imperceptibly. “I’ll quit trying to intimidate—if you promise we’re a couple.”
Shock, combined with a tingling of pleasure hit her low in the stomach as sensation flooded through her from his fevered attempt at compromise. Now he wanted her to promise him they were a couple? Was this his way of almost begging her to stay? He was now ready to claim a relationship just from her mere explosion of anger? Did he have deeper feelings than he even knew? And was there a chance at all for them?
Whatever the future held, she wasn’t going to pass up this moment to cement something with him, no matter how small. “I promise,” she said softly.
His hands tightened and a look of relief crossed his face. “You can’t take that back.”
Her fingers lifted to cover his mouth to stop him from saying anything more that might ruin the tentative truce they had reached. “I won’t, as long as you hold onto your end of the bargain.”
He grabbed her hand and held it to his mouth and kissed it, running his lips over her finger and the palm of her hand. “You can hire a cleaning service if you want.” he asked.
“Me?”
“It’s your house. We’re a couple, right? That’s your department now.”
She gave him a quizzical smile. “Woman’s work and all that?”
“Are you trying to trick me? Are you trying to fundamentally change me now? You’ve gotten me to tone down the intimidation and now you think I’ll become politically correct as well?”
“No. You’ve done enough. You just took me by surprise. I don’t want or need a cleaning service if that’s okay with you.”
“That’s fine. I don’t like strange people in my house anyway, like I told you before. But you’ll take care of it if the housework becomes too much to handle?”
“Yes.”
“So—we’re done with this?”
“Yes.”
His finger smoothed over her bottom lip. “I love that word on your lips.”
