Didn’t you do the same thing? Take matters in your own hands?
I shoved down the silent, pointed question. That was different. I’d made a choice for myself. I was allowed to do it. Marc, on the other hand, had no right to make decisions on my behalf. Not when they affected my job, or my life, or my safety.
But I could hardly resent the fact that he wanted to keep me safe. Even if he had a shitty, caveman, Alpha-dog way of doing it.
I swallowed against a new lump in my throat and watched as he took a step forward, then back. He ran a hand over his hair and scanned the street. He looked lost. But I knew he was just searching for me. It made me ache even more.
I closed my eyes, willing myself to hold onto the anger, hoping that not being able to see him would dull the need to reach out.
Except it had the opposite effect. Not having my eyes on him made me want to see him even more. Nothing undermined how much I cared about him.
Love, apparently, trumped fury.
I needed to talk to him. I pushed off the wall and moved forward, his name on my lips. But before I could even take a full step, a rough hand reached around and clamped down on my mouth. As the person attached to the hand dragged me to the narrow space between the coffee shop and the neighboring boutique, the taste of sour sweat exploded on my tongue and made me gag.
Realizing too late that I should be fighting off my assailant, I lifted an elbow and tried to throw it back. A second hand came up and stopped me.
“Stop it.” The low, growled order was issued unmistakably by Carl.
My heart paused in its burn to thump erratically against my ribcage. Shit.
I fought a little harder, driving my heeled boot into his foot. He dropped an angry curse, then tipped me sideways and lifted me from the ground. He spun me around and slammed me to the wall, his hand still covering my mouth.
“I just want to talk to you,” he said.
No fucking way.
I pulled up my knee, planning to use the small space between us to my fullest advantage, and jammed it straight between his legs. But my effort was in vain. Before I could connect, Carl’s sleaze ball self was ripped away.
I heard him hit the opposite wall, then saw a blurred form draw back a fist and deliver a solid punch to the asshole’s chin. Carl slumped to the ground. And Marc appeared in front of me, those warm brown eyes of his filled will worry. I looked up at him. And I yelled one of the dumbest things I’d ever said.
“I do not need your help!”
He blinked. “What?”
“I don’t need your fucking help, Marcelo! I was just fine until you came along.”
“Carl…” His gaze flicked to the barely conscious man on the ground.
I waved my hand impatiently. “I don’t just mean now. Although you did completely rob me of rendering him incapable of having children. I mean all the time, Marc.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Yes, you did. Before you came along, I had my whole life sorted out. My job, my friendships, where things stood with my mom. But now…I feel clueless. Like I’m second guessing every move I make.”
He flinched, then stiffened. “Fine. I’ll just wait here until the police come. I’ll give my statement, then I’ll go.”
My chest compressed painfully again.
Why, Aysia? Were you expecting him to protest? Wanting him to?
I refused to think about it. This was clearly a sign that I’d been wrong to bend both my own rules and the rules at Eco-Go. It was just too complicated.
“Does that work for you, Ms. Banks?” Marc prodded.
“Yes,” I lied. “That’s perfect.”
The next thirty minutes went by in a blur. Marc told the police—quietly—that we were co-workers. That he’d caught Carl pulling me into the alley and had just reacted. By the time they’d finished giving me a quick but thorough medical assessment and moved on to questioning me directly, he was already shaking hands and handing over his business card in case they needed him later. Then he was just…gone. And the alley felt terribly, overwhelming empty even though it was full of police. Full of Carl in handcuffs. And even full of a few curious bystanders. I was alone.
It was that feeling that sent me home instead of back to the office. If I was going to feel alone, I might as well be alone. I placed a quick call to Liv to have her pass along the message that I wouldn’t be there for the day, and was glad that her phone went to voice mail. Then I let one of the police officers drive me back to my apartment. I refused her offer to see me upstairs, and slipped into the building with a forced smile. But as the cruiser disappeared up the street, I couldn’t quite make myself move. My gaze swept over the lobby, and I wondered why it seemed like a whole different place.
“Stupid,” I muttered.
My condo was the same as it had always been. Built by my favorite company. Designed with all the things that mattered to me in mind. Sustainability blending with beauty blending with usefulness. Perfect. Except it was somehow empty.
“Extra stupid,” I added.
Any second, Mrs. Fisk would use her weird, sixth sense to tune in to the fact that I was just standing around. She’d tap her foot and remind me that normal people weren’t afraid of going into their own apartments because it felt odd to do it alone. Then she’d cackle. And possibly fly off on her broomstick.
The mental image was enough to let a small smile through. “Yeah, I’ll show you normal.”
I forced one foot to move, then the other. Step by leaden step, I managed to make it to the stairs. At the top, I almost panicked again. The last time I’d been inside—was it really just yesterday?—was the post break-in walkthrough. I’d had Marc to lean on. And I hadn’t felt anywhere near as much raw vulnerability as she did now. Tears threatened again. If they managed to overtake me, I could officially say that I’d cried more in the last hour than I had in the last ten years.
C’mon, Aysia. Get it together.
Taking a steadying breath that didn’t quite cut it, I pushed out of the stairwell into my hall. My shaking legs might’ve taken me all the way to my door. But they didn’t. Because Marc sat on my welcome mat, his head in his hands, his tie off and wrapped around his fist, his coat a rumpled heap beside him.
And if I’d thought my heart was an aching, broken mess before…it had nothing on the implosion it experienced at the sight of him.
Chapter 18
Marcelo
It’s funny how quickly you can become attuned to someone else. The way they move. Their unique scent. How they fill a space. A month ago, I didn’t know Aysia Banks existed. I didn’t know about her soft lips or the way her body fit so perfectly with mine. I wasn’t aware of how empty a space could seem when she wasn’t there, or of the fact that I could feel it when she walked into a room. If someone had told me any of that would be true today, I would’ve laughed my ass off, then asked if I could have a shot of whatever they were drinking.
Right that second, though, my life was proof positive that the made-up, fairy-tale love stories were true. The moment Aysia stepped into the hall, I knew. I didn’t have to look up to confirm that it was her. The air around me just changed.
“I know I shouldn’t be here.” My statement came out rough and raw. I pushed on anyway, keeping my head down because I knew I’d fall the fuck apart if I had to see the cool detachment in her eyes again. “But I just needed a minute to explain. To apologize. Then I’ll be out of your way.”
She said nothing, so I went on.
“I came into Eco-Go on that first Friday to get a feel for the company. I went through some emails because I wanted to know if there was anything that might bite me in the ass when marketing the company. When I saw that video, my immediate instinct was to fire the man who made it. I wasn’t expecting him—or you—to come to life in the bar. I didn’t know you worked for Mike. I wasn’t even sure
if you knew about the video.”
Aysia interrupted with a soft throat-clear. “Marc.”
I knew she was going to dismiss me any second, but I had to get it all out. “I should’ve brought up the video before I even went home with you. And again when I found out you worked at Eco-Go. Hell. I was going to tell you before Carl busted in and made the blackmail threat. He had another video, too. One of you and me dancing that first night at The Well. He made a big point of telling me how much your job meant to you, and you said as much yourself. All of this sounds like an excuse. Maybe it is. But I just need you to understand that I was sincerely trying to protect you and your feelings and your career. It was shitty. And machismo. And stupid.”
“Babbly, aren’t you?” said an annoyed voice. “Especially for a man.”
My head came up in surprise, and instead of Aysia, I found Mrs. Fisk.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
My mouth worked silently for a minute. Had I just imagined the whisper of my name? Was I bat-shit crazy? Then the old woman shuffled sideways, and I exhaled. Aysia was there. Her face worn, her eyes sad, and her cheeks pink.
“Can’t decide if he just likes the sound of his own voice, or if he thinks if he talks more, you’ll take his sorry ass back,” Mrs. Fisk added.
“Probably both,” Aysia replied, a tiny smile tipping up her mouth for just long enough to give me hope.
“Hmph.” Mrs. Fisk crossed her arm. “Well. Take it inside. No one wants to see you make a baby out here in the hall.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Fisk. We’ll take that to heart,” Aysia replied, nodding toward her still-duct-taped door. “Do you want to come in, Marc?”
“Do you want me to come in?” I asked cautiously.
“Oh, please,” Mr. Fisk interjected. “Just go in the damned house.”
I pushed to my feet and stepped away from the door to let Aysia lead the way. I followed her inside, waiting for the other shoe to drop. For her to tell me take my lame apology and stick it up my ass. Instead, she excused herself for a moment, hurried into her office, then came back with her laptop.
“I’m going to show you something,” she said. “And it sounds dumb, but I’m breaking Carl’s confidence by doing it.”
I forced my hands not to ball up into fists, but my reply still came out through gritted teeth. “All right.”
She clicked through a few screens and finally settled on a tab labeled VIDEOS. “I’m guessing this is what you saw?”
The window became animated, and yep. There it was. Aysia in the red negligee, stroking her hair. Moonlight streaming through the big window behind her. As beautiful as she’d been the first time I’d watched it.
“That’s the one,” I confirmed.
She sighed and leaned back. “About ten seconds after that recording ended, I realized what he was doing. He tried to shove his phone into his pocket, but dropped it instead, and the video replayed. I was pretty pissed off. What kind of sleazy guy records a girl in her underwear without her consent? I realized right then how stupid I’d been to get involved with him. I broke it off that very moment. I asked him to delete the video. He did. Except he somehow e-mailed himself a copy before removing it from the phone. I came into work the next day and found one in my inbox, too, with a note saying that if I didn’t keep seeing him, he’d send it to everyone.”
“What the fuck,” I muttered angrily.
“Pretty much what I said.” She shrugged.
I stared at her, wondering how the hell she could be so nonchalant about it. It made my gut roil. Before I could ask how she managed to hold her shit together, she leaned over the computer again and pulled up another video.
“I happened to also get this,” she told me.
The screen came to life again, this time showcasing Carl. On a bed. Naked. Back turned away, thank fucking God. He was leaned down, staring at what could only be his own dick. Then Aysia’s voice came through, tinny, but still audible.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It’s too big,” was Carl’s response.
“Oh, hell no,” I said, pulling away in disgust and slamming the pause button with a little too much force.
“Just keep watching,” Aysia said.
“No! Christ.”
“Please, Marc.”
“Fuck.”
She un-paused it, and her voice came on again.
“Too big? What’s too big?”
“Goddamn it.” Carl turned a little, and his face was almost purple. “The condom.”
“The…” Aysia trailed off, clearly bemused, then cleared her throat. “Maybe you grabbed the wrong size?”
“I grabbed the smallest size they had. Just—goddamn it!”
“It’s okay, Carl. Really.”
“Can you just leave?”
“Sure. I’ll…uh…wait out in the living room.”
Carl’s gaze found the camera then, and he muttered a curse right before the video cut off. Aysia closed the laptop, and I didn’t know whether to laugh my ass off or just be disgusted.
I forced myself to speak as neutrally as possible. “And you got that how?”
“It was attached to the same e-mail as the first video. Along with one of him and another girl who didn’t seem to care that they don’t make condoms in a mini-sized.”
I fought a chuckle. “Carl’s pretty fond of recording shit, isn’t he?”
“Yes. And that one I just showed you…he recorded that four nights before the other one of me in the lingerie. It was supposed to be our first time.”
“I take it things didn’t work out as planned?” I couldn’t hide how entertained I was by the revelation.
“No,” she replied dryly. “Not at all.”
“So you never…”
“No. We tried one other time and he couldn’t even get it up. Not for lack of trying. It was almost as comical as the condom. But that wasn’t why I showed you the video. I just wanted you to know that Carl never actually had something hanging over us.”
“The bastard was playing me.” I shook my head in disgust.
“Until today, he probably thought you told me about seeing the video. And he probably thought I’d shown you the other one in return. He was desperate to keep it quiet, I guess. And counting on the fact that I cared more about my job and my reputation at Eco-Go than anything else.”
I studied her face. “You said cared.”
Her eyes held mine for a minute, then dropped to her hands. “I’m sorry about today.”
“You are?”
“I just…I got freaked out. When you pulled Carl off me, I kind of lost it. And I know I probably sounded like a crazy person. But everything I said was true. Before I met you, I really did have my shit together.” She paused, swallowed nervously, then went on. “I love you, Marc. And I’m having a hard time processing that.”
She kept talking. But I had no clue what she was saying. Something about appreciating the fact that I cared enough about her to try to protect her, and about being grateful that I’d pulled Carl away from her when I had. Then a bit more about how overwhelmed she was and how quick it all happened and how I derailed her plans but that she liked it. Except none of it mattered. All I heard were those three little words.
She loves me.
My heart filled like a balloon. A helium one. Filled with glitter. Or something equally soft and sparkly and decidedly unmanly. The glitter-rainbow-helium floated up somewhere near my throat and threatened to burst outwards in a pile of sickly sweet happiness.
Ignoring whatever else was tumbling from her mouth, I dropped my hands to her face and tipped my mouth to hers, cutting her off. I kissed her hard. Fast. And thorough. So fucking thorough. I tasted every little bit of her lips and her tongue, and Jesus was it good. That much better because she loved me. When I finally pulled away, sh
e was gasping for air.
“You love me,” I growled.
“I know,” she breathed.
I kissed her again. Soft. And tender.
“I love you back,” I said. “So fucking much.”
“So fucking much?” she teased.
“Yeah. I’m romantic as all hell.”
Then her face fell again. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
I cupped her cheek. “It changes everything.”
“No, Marc. There’s still the work policy.”
“I thought we decided we didn’t care about that.”
“We said we were going to try and find a way around it.”
“And we will.” I stood up then, and grabbed her hand. “C’mon.”
“Where are we going?”
“Upstairs so I can show you exactly what so fucking much means when we’re in the bedroom.”
She started to stand. I wasn’t that patient. Like the overprotective, love-blind caveman I was, I grabbed her by the waist and threw her over my shoulder.
* * * *
Aysia
Marc’s mouth and hands were everywhere. For each piece of clothing he discarded, he placed a trail of kisses on the newly naked spot. My shoulders. My collar bone. Each of my breasts, then down my stomach to my belly button. Each touch made me gasp. By the time he got my pants unzipped and pressed his mouth to the sensitive spot just above my panty line, my blood was molten lava, rushing through my veins.
As he dragged the pants down to my calves, I started to quiver. When he pulled them to my ankles while simultaneously sliding his tongue along my thighs, the quiver became a shake.
After Hours Page 25
