Ruthless (An Enemies To Lovers Novel Book 4)

by Michelle Horst

  “You already said that.”

  “I’m making sure you understand.”

  “I do.”

  Damn, it feels like I’m busy being interviewed.

  “I love my privacy. Next time call like a normal person.”

  “Give me your number and I will.”

  He frowns down at me. “You’re strange.”

  “I am?” Strange how?

  “This is too easy. What’s the catch?”

  “Catch? There’s no catch. You said you had rules, and so far they’re reasonable.”

  He shakes his head. “The second you get clingy this ends.”

  “Right, no clinging to you.”

  “Wait downstairs.” He walks into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him.

  I glance at his bed, and before I can stop myself, I quickly straighten the covers and pillows. With a satisfied feeling, I leave his room to wait by the front door.

  Marcus is still not smiling, but the fact that he’s coming with me is a win for me.

  “Let’s take my car,” I say as we leave the house.

  “We can take mine,” he almost growls.

  “What’s wrong? Afraid that your manhood will be questioned if you’re seen in my car?” I tease.

  I might not drive the latest model, but my little Mini Cooper has never let me down.

  He looks pained as I open the passenger door for him.

  “After you, Mr. Reed.” I give him my sweetest smile.

  He glares at me, but at least he gets in. I quickly walk to the driver's side and get in, before he changes his mind.

  As I pull away, he mutters under his breath, “We should’ve taken my car.”

  He switches on the radio. When Elton John fills the car, Marcus turns his head slowly to me, giving a what-the-hell look.

  I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing out loud.

  “What the fuck are you listening to?”

  “Elton is legendary.”

  “I’m sure this kind of music died during the ice age.”

  “What kind of music do you like?”

  When Marcus presses a hand to the roof, and his knees up against the dash so he can pull his phone from his back pocket, I let out a sputter of laughter.

  He just glares at me and connects his phone to the radio. He scrolls through his playlist before he picks a song.

  There’s a lot of noise before piano notes fill the car. I turn up the volume, wanting to clearly hear the words. I haven’t listened to the song before, and even though it sounds harsh, the words fill me with sadness. I keep my eyes on the road while the song tells me everything I needed to know. Marcus lost someone, and it’s eating him up inside.

  When the next song starts, I turn the sound down, and ask, “Who sings it?”

  “Five finger death punch.”

  I stop the car in front of IHOP. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  After we’ve been seated and our orders have been taken, I give my phone to Marcus.

  “Can you send me your playlist?”

  He gives me an uncertain look before he takes my phone. I watch him program his number in my phone, then he calls himself so he’ll have mine. After he’s done, he doesn’t give back my phone. As he scrolls through my contacts, the frown on his forehead deepens.

  “You only have eight contacts,” he says.

  “And?”

  We’re interrupted by the waitress as she places our food on the table. She lingers as she smiles at Marcus.

  “Do you need anything else?”

  When Marcus ignores her, I quickly answer, “No, thank you.”

  He waits for her to leave before he says, “Why only eight numbers?”

  I cut into my stack of pancakes and take a bite. Marcus stares at me while I chew. I swallow hard on the bite. It’s definitely not easy eating with him glaring at me.

  “Those are the only eight who matter to me.”

  When he cocks an eyebrow at me, I ask, “Out of all your contacts, who do you actually talk to?”

  Not answering me immediately, he shoves a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. Now it’s my turn to stare at him as he eats. It’s not because I want to make him feel uncomfortable, but because of his stubbled jaw. I never knew it could be a turn-on watching someone eat.

  When he takes another bite, I force my attention back to my own plate. Our breakfast is spent in silence, and only once I’ve paid, and we’re walking towards the car, does he answer me.

  “Five.”

  We get in the car, before I ask, “So why have all the other numbers if you’re not going to use them?”

  This time he doesn’t answer me at all. I drive the short distance to my favorite fabric store, and when I park the car, Marcus looks a little confused.

  “Come on. I’ll be quick.”

  I’m surprised when he follows me inside. As I walk down the aisle, I run my fingers over the different rolls of fabric. Marcus just watches me as I pick what I want. After I’ve asked the clerk what length I need, I turn back to Marcus.

  “So what? You like to make clothes?” He doesn’t look impressed. Hell, not that I expected him to, but I’m still surprised that he’s so blatantly indifferent about my passion.

  “You don’t have to make it sound like I shovel shit for a hobby. I study fashion design.”

  He smirks at me, and it’s only then I realize that he’s falling back into his habit of pretending to be a dick.

  “I have a rule,” I say, lifting my chin bravely.

  “A rule?” He crosses his arms over his chest which makes the muscles in his biceps bulge.

  “Yeah. You have your rules about our friendship, and I have mine.”

  He nods as he cocks both his eyebrows.

  “Let me hear your rule.”

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches, which quickly makes me add, “And smile. Fewer glares and more smiles.”

  “Is that all?”

  “For now,” I chirp. I walk by Marcus and go pay for my purchase.

  We listen to more of his playlist as I drive him back to his house. After every song, I ask him who sings it.

  I stop the car in front of the driveway and smile at Marcus.

  “Thank you for coming with me.”

  “Sure,” he mumbles as he opens the door.

  I quickly take hold of his arm and leaning over, I press a kiss to his cheek.

  “See ya.”

  The frown is back on his forehead, but he doesn’t make any mean remarks about the kiss. Instead, he gets out of the car, closes the door, then walks up the driveway without looking back.

  “I’m going to get through to you, Marcus Reed,” I whisper as I pull away from the curb.

  Chapter 6

  MARCUS

  After spending yesterday morning with Willow, I feel more confused.

  I don’t know how to process everything. When I’m around Willow, it feels good. I’m still cautious, but the need to get to know her is growing stronger.

  That’s until she leaves, then all the fears come rushing back.

  I’ve never felt so unsettled before. Half of me wants to spend more time with her, while the other half wants to run screaming for the hills.

  After lunch my phone beeps. I grin when I see the name I gave Willow on the screen. ET, which is my short version for Elton, seeing as she loves his music so much.

  I open the message and let out a burst of laughter.

  ET: What does VBC stand for?

  Me: Very Big Cock.

  ET: ‘Rolls my eyes.’ Only you would name yourself that on my phone.

  ET: What name did you give me on your phone?

  Me: ET.

  ET: What does that stand for?

  ET: Please tell me it doesn’t stand for enormous tits.

  I laugh at her reaction, and for a moment I play with the idea of telling her that’s what it means, but then I decide to take it easy on her.

  Me:
It stands for Elton, seeing as you like him so much.

  ET: Ha-Ha, you better change it to Willow before I get to your place. I’m switching VBC to Marcus. The last thing I need is a reminder of your cock every time we message each other. BTW, I’ll be there in ten minutes.

  I glance at the time and note that it’s almost five in the afternoon.

  Me: What if I have plans?

  Okay, it’s not like I have any, although she doesn’t need to know that. While she’s typing, I change ET to Willow.

  Willow: Well, do you have plans?

  Me: Apparently, I do now.

  Willow: See you in five minutes.

  Me: What happened to ten minutes?

  Willow: You wasted it sending me messages.

  I sit down on the couch, and switching on the TV, I channel surf until I hear a knock at the door. Jaxson walks into the living room, and points in the direction of the front door.

  “Are you expecting anyone?”

  “Willow.”

  He looks at the door, then back to me.

  “Are you going to open it for her?”

  “Nah,” I say as I switch to a sports channel.

  Jaxson says nothing but goes to open the door for Willow. I hear them greet each other before Willow walks into the living room. She sits down next to me and pulls a face at the TV.

  “Switch it off. We’re going to be late.”

  “For what?” When she reaches for the remote, I move my arm out of her reach.

  “Movies. If we leave now, we can make the next show.”

  “If I wanted to stare at a screen then I’d stay right here.”

  She gets on her knees and placing her hand on my thigh she leans right over me and grabs the remote out of my hand. She switches off the TV, then tosses the remote on the coffee table.

  With her ass still in the air and her hand on my thigh, she smiles at me.

  “Let’s go.”

  She pulls away and gets up before I do something stupid. One second longer and I would’ve grabbed her.

  “I’m not going to the movies,” I say, but I still get up.

  “Fine, what do you want to do then?”

  I remember the face she pulled when she saw the basketball match on TV.

  “It’s a surprise. By the way, we’re taking my car. Yours is small enough to make me feel claustrophobic.”

  When I near the college campus, Willow starts shooting glances my way. I drive around the back so we can park near the gymnasium.

  “I was just here,” she says, sounding deflated.

  “Not with me,” I say, as I get out of the car.

  I wait for her to get out before I take her hand, and pull her to the back entrance. I hold the door open for her, which earns me a smile.

  “How did you know the door wouldn’t be locked?” she asks as she waits for me to shut it.

  “They lock it at seven after everyone’s done with practice, so we just have to make sure we’re out of here by then.”

  We walk down the hallway, and I’m glad it’s a quiet night for sports. I just hope the door to the basketball court isn’t locked.

  Luckily, it’s not. I flip the switch, and the court brightens from the overhead lights.

  “Seriously?” Willow says as she looks at where we are. “Basketball?”

  I grab a ball and bounce it a few times. “If you miss the hoop, you have to strip out of a piece of clothing.”

  I watch her face transform from bored to nervous in a matter of seconds.

  “Strip horse?”

  “Yeah, that’s unless you don’t have the guts.”

  She lifts her chin stubbornly. “Oh, I’m game. Fair warning though, I’m going to make you eat those words.”

  I laugh as I throw the ball to her. “Ladies first.”

  She’s only wearing sandals, a pair of shorts, and a t-shirt. Adding her bra and panties, she just has to miss five times for me to get her naked. This shouldn’t take too long.

  “Let’s start with an easy shot. One handed.” She shoots the ball, and I watch as she gets it in. “Your turn.”

  I go stand where she was and make the same shot. The ball goes through the hoop, and she runs to get it. I watch her walk to the side, and it’s right about then that I start to worry.

  “Off the window,” she calls the shot, and when the ball sails through the hoop, I know I’ve been played.

  I bounce the ball as I walk to the side. I’m too busy wondering just how good she is, that I miss the hoop.

  Willow claps her hands excitedly. “Time to strip, Pretty-boy.”

  I sit down and untie my shoelaces. As I get up, I ask, “You’re playing me, aren’t you?”

  “You never asked if I played before.” She walks to the middle of the court and throws the ball, which of course hits its mark.

  “Have you?” I ask as I walk to where she was standing. The ball bounces off the hoop, which makes Willow do a happy dance.

  I smile as I pull my shirt over my head.

  “My dad and I had this thing. We played every Saturday morning, and the loser would have to mow the lawn. You could say I learned from the best.”

  “The best?”

  “Left hand.” After the ball goes through, she says, “Colby Brooks is my dad.”

  I stop just as I’m about to throw, and turn to Willow.

  “Your last name is Brooks?”

  “Yeah. I thought you knew.” She picks up my shirt and folds it neatly before she places it on a bench.

  “Your dad was a good player back in his day.”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re going to kick my ass, aren’t you?”

  She smiles widely. “By the looks of things, I’m already kicking your ass.”

  I walk to where she’s standing.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before we started?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  I drop the ball and take another step closer to her.

  “I think that’s bullshit. Want to know why I think you kept quiet?”

  She licks her lips and shakes her head, making blonde curls fall over her shoulders. “Not really.”

  Taking one more step, my chest is only inches away from touching hers.

  “I think you were planning to get me naked.”

  She scrunches her nose and laughs. “You’re the one who chose the game. I didn’t plan any of this. If we had gone with my plans, we’d be sitting in the movies right now.” Her eyes drop to my chest. “And you would still be wearing your shirt.”

  The moment her eyes settle on the scar, the playful look fades from her face.

  She brings her hand to my chest, and I stand frozen as her fingertips lightly brush over the scarred tissue.

  “What happened?” she asks as she brings her eyes back up to mine.

  I’m surprised that she’s asking. No one asked me before. Usually, they’ve already heard about it somewhere else.

  “My father shot me.” The words come out much softer than I meant it to sound.

  “Why do you still call him your father? It’s not like he deserves the title.”

  That’s definitely not what I expected her to say. I thought she would pry more.

  “He’s done damage only a father could do. If it were any other person, it would’ve made it easier to accept.”

  “That makes sense,” she whispers. She pulls her hand away from my chest and smiles up at me. “I’m glad you survived, Pretty-Boy.”

  “Why?”

  She picks up my shirt and presses it against my chest.

  “Get dressed. I need to get home.” When we’re walking back to the car, she whispers, “I’m glad you survived because you have a good heart, Marcus. You might not think so, but I can see it.”

  When we get back to my place, Willow doesn’t come in. She kisses my cheek before walking to where she parked across the road. I watch her drive away before I go inside. The house is quiet, so I decide to take a shower and call it a night.

&nbs
p; ∞∞∞

  WILLOW

  When I walk into the apartment, only Evie is home.

  “Where’s Leigh?”

  She shrugs. “She didn’t say she was going out. I told her you were going out with Marcus, and she said she was just going to hang here. When I got home the place was empty.”

  “Shit, that reminds me. I need to charge my phone.” I plug it in and make some coffee while it charges.

  The second I switch on my phone, it starts to beep like crazy. When I see all the missed calls from Leigh, worry begins to tighten my stomach.

  I call her, but when I reach her answering machine, the worry quickly turns to fear. What if something happened to her?

  “What’s wrong?” Evie asks as she gets up from the couch.

  “Leigh tried to phone me. She didn’t leave any messages. There are eight missed calls from her. What if she’s in trouble? I tried to phone her now, but I got her voicemail.”

  “I’m sure she’s okay. Maybe she wanted to come out with us after all, and she was trying to find out where we were.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  When the front door opens, I swing around. For a second relief floods me, but then I see the state Leigh is in. She’s as white as a ghost.

  “Leigh?”

  “I have to pack. My dad’s coming tomorrow.” She looks dazed, which only makes me worry even more. “Dad’s coming tomorrow,” she repeats herself.

  I’ve never seen her like this. She looks totally out of it. I put my arm around her shoulders and guide her over to the couch. Evie hands me a bottle of water which I press to Leigh’s lips. Thankfully, she takes a few sips.

  “I’m going home,” she whispers, and she sounds so lost, it’s tearing at my heart.

  “Why are you going home, Leigh? Did something happen today?”

  “My mom had an accident. She died.” There’s no emotion in her voice, which makes my heart hurt. She must’ve just found out.

  I pull her into my arms and hold her as I start to cry. My heart is breaking for my friend. She was close to her mother.

  As I pull back, Evie leans in to hug Leigh.

  “I’m sorry, Leigh. I didn’t know your mom, but I’m sure she was amazing. You’re living proof of it.”

  There’s nothing we can do to make this easier for Leigh, so we let her sit on the couch while we pack her things.