Famous: Quantum Series, Book 8

by Force, Marie

  “They’d want to be there for you, Mo.”

  “I know that, too. Give me one more day?”

  “Whatever you need. You’re the boss.” He kisses the top of my head. “Are you hungry?”

  “I could definitely eat something.”

  “Can you walk, or would you prefer a lift?”

  “I can walk, but thank you for offering to tote me around.”

  “It’s a pleasure to tote you anywhere you need to go.”

  He makes me smile when I wouldn’t have thought it possible. He reminds me that no matter what happens—good, bad, evil—I’ll always have my beloved friends, and there’s comfort in knowing they’re here for me. I take the arm he offers, and he escorts me, slowly, through the small condo to the open-concept living room, dining room and kitchen that looks down upon the enclave of Malibu and the Pacific Coast.

  “This place is great!” I take in the rich leather sectional sofa, the glass tables and lamps made of brass compasses. “Why have I never been here before?”

  “Because we hang out at the bigger houses now that there’re so many of us.”

  “True. We have become an unruly mob.” I wander to the windows to check out his view, which is fantastic. He’s high enough up that he can see all of Malibu and the ocean. “I had no idea how great the view is from up here.”

  “I love it.”

  “I can see why.”

  “It’s not as great as your oceanfront palace, but it works for me.”

  “My oceanfront palace, as you call it, comes with nonstop activity and people around. This is very tranquil.”

  “It is until the chick next door brings home her flavor of the week and they go at it until all hours.”

  “No way, really?”

  “Uh-huh. Stick around for a couple of days and you’ll get treated to her show. She’s a screamer.”

  I laugh and then wince with regret. My body isn’t up for laughing quite yet.

  “What do you feel like eating? Addie stocked us up with all your favorites—organic eggs, goat cheese, tofu, spinach, Greek yogurt, that birdseed bread you all eat and organic rotisserie chicken.”

  My mouth waters when I hear my choices. “I’ll do a goat-cheese-and-spinach omelet with birdseed toast. I can make it.”

  “No need. I gotcha covered.” He gets busy in the kitchen, and I sit at the bar to watch him, noticing how comfortable he seems as he moves from the fridge to the stove.

  His lips quirk with the start of a smile. “Whataya staring at?”

  “I had no idea you were such a cook.”

  “Been taking care of myself for a lotta years.” He glances at me. “You want coffee?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble. Addie brought soy milk for you.” He makes a face that lets me know what he thinks of soy milk and then makes enough coffee for both of us. When it’s finished brewing, he fills a mug for me and puts it on the counter with the soy milk and a spoon. “I don’t have any stevia or unsugar.”

  I smile at his gruff tone. “That’s okay. The soy milk is all I need.”

  “Ick.”

  “It’s good!”

  “No, it isn’t.” He dumps enough half-and-half into his coffee to turn it tan. After taking a sip, he smacks his lips. “Now that is how coffee is supposed to taste.”

  “I’m surprised you can still taste coffee with all that cream.”

  Scowling playfully at me, he flips the eggs, adds the goat cheese and butters the toast before plating the food and sliding it across the bar to me.

  “This looks amazing. Thank you so much.”

  He leans his elbows on the bar. “I’m glad you feel like eating. You seem a lot better than you were yesterday.”

  “The drug-induced coma helped,” I say between bites of what’s quite possibly the best-tasting thing I’ve ever eaten. Wanting to make it last, I put down my fork and take a sip of coffee.

  “I’m not sure if I should tell you that your phone has been going crazy with texts from the piece of shit. It’s taken everything I have not to answer him.”

  That news turns my stomach, but I love the nickname Seb has given him. “What’s he saying?”

  “That what happened wasn’t his fault and how is it fair that you kept such a big thing from him. Were you faking it every time you were in bed with him? Among other things.”

  “If I block him, will he be able tell that he’s blocked?”

  “Does he also have an iPhone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The texts he sends to you will change colors on his phone when you block him, so he’ll know you’re not getting them.”

  “Do it.”

  He slides the phone across the counter to me. “Punch in your code.”

  I push it back to him. “It’s five-five-nine-five.”

  “Blocked.” Then he does a double take.

  “What?”

  “He said he took pictures, and he’s not afraid to use them if you’re going to be a bitch about this.”

  “Is that right?” I struggle to remain calm. “He signed the NDA. He wouldn’t dare.”

  “Wouldn’t he? I feared he had a dark side, but if you’d asked me two days ago if he’d dare to whip you bloody and leave you in shock and hanging from the ceiling, I would’ve said no fucking way.”

  The way he says that—and how he looks at me—does something to me. A profound feeling of well-being overcomes me. “What the fuck are you smiling at?”

  “You. You make me feel very safe.”

  “You are safe now. I won’t let him get anywhere near you ever again.”

  “Why?”

  His brows furrow with confusion. “Why what?”

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “Why do I care? You’re my friend, Marlowe. And my boss. And a good person who didn’t deserve to have this happen to you.”

  “It’s very sweet of you to care.”

  “Would you care if someone beat the shit out of me?”

  I give him a skeptical look. “As if that would ever happen.”

  “It’s happened.”

  “When has it happened?”

  “I used to get beat up a lot when I was younger.”

  I stare at him in disbelief.

  He flashes the grin that I’ve often thought of as devastating, as in it would be devastating to be on the receiving end of that sexy grin. I was right. It is. “I wasn’t always six foot three and two hundred twenty-five pounds of muscle, sweetheart.”

  It occurs to me that even after spending countless hours in his presence, I don’t really know Sebastian Lowe that well, and I suspect that’s by design on his part. “Who beat you up?”

  “Other kids.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t do what they wanted me to.”

  “What did they want you to do?”

  “Hurt people. Steal. That kind of thing.”

  “They beat you up because you wouldn’t hurt people?”

  “Something like that.”

  “And you refused, knowing you’d probably get beaten up for saying no to them?”

  “I did.”

  “Who were these kids?”

  “Doesn’t matter now, does it? Eat your breakfast.”

  Clearly, he doesn’t want to talk about it, but I do. I want to know who these kids were who would dare to hurt him because he refused to go along with their illegal behavior. And then I recall something I heard once about Hayden rescuing Sebastian from a gang and taking him off on location to get him out of town.

  He’s lucky they didn’t kill him.

  I take a bite and force myself to swallow.

  The scars. I put down my fork, wipe my mouth with a paper napkin and take a sip of my coffee. I’ve seen the raised scars on his back and neck, but Hayden told me once that Sebastian doesn’t talk about them. Is that what he meant by “beat up”?

  “Not hungry?” he asks, brows furrowed.

  “I’m g
etting a little full. Could I wrap up the rest for later?”

  “Of course.”

  He opens a deep drawer full of neatly arranged plastic storage containers in various sizes and shapes.

  “Look at you with grown-up storage containers.”

  “As opposed to what?”

  “Mismatched takeout containers with lids that never fit?”

  “I know what I’m getting you for your birthday. This was the best thing I ever bought myself.”

  “You surprise me.”

  He glances my way, his lips quivering with the start of a smile. “Why? Because I have containers with lids that fit?”

  “That and you cook, and your place is really nice.”

  “You know what I get paid. What were you expecting? A hovel?”

  Now I’m afraid I’ve offended him. “Not at all! I’m actually ashamed to confess that I never gave much thought to where you live or what your place would be like.”

  “Don’t be ashamed. Why would you care about where I live? You’re Marlowe Sloane.”

  He says that the way people always do, as if fame somehow excuses me from common courtesy. “Don’t do that,” I say softly.

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t let me off the hook because people know who I am. We’ve been friends a long time. I should’ve visited your home before now.”

  “Quit being tough on yourself, sweetheart. You’re a busy lady. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “That’s not true! I owe you the same courtesy you’ve always given me.” Before I have a second to process the swell of emotion that comes from realizing I haven’t been a great friend to him, a sob erupts from my throat.

  He comes around the counter and wraps his arms around me. “Shhh.” His hand rubs a soothing circle on my back, above where I’m cut. “I don’t know where you’re getting the idea that you haven’t been a good friend to me. Where would I be without all of you guys at Quantum? Hayden gets credit for saving my life, but you and the others have given me a purpose and a family.”

  With my head on his chest, I take a deep breath to calm myself and discover he smells really, really good, like soap and laundry detergent and fresh air. He holds me for a long time, but since he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to let go, I stay there for as long as he’ll have me.

  “Why don’t we talk about what’s really going on?”

  It takes me a long time to find the words to articulate my thoughts. “I can’t believe I let this happen.”

  Every muscle in Sebastian’s big body goes tense as he pulls back from me, keeping his hands on my shoulders. “What did you say?” His fierce expression all but dares me to blame myself for what happened with Rafe.

  “You all tried to tell me.”

  “That’s utter bullshit, and you know it. This is not your fault. He’s the one who thought it would be a good idea to beat a woman and leave her tied up overnight. In no way are you responsible for that.”

  “Maybe I am. We dated for months, and I never mentioned the BDSM until I sprang it on him.”

  “You could’ve sprung your desire for sex with cows on him, and that wouldn’t have given him the right to do what he did to you.”

  I know he’s being dead serious, but I can’t stop the titter of nervous laughter that escapes from me.

  “It’s not funny!”

  “Cows? Really?”

  “You get the point!” He’s fierce and furious and wonderful.

  I smile, even though that makes my face hurt. “I get the point.”

  “Tell me you know this wasn’t your fault.” His voice is husky, his eyes full of raw emotion. In that fleeting second, I begin to wonder if he feels more for me than platonic friendship, if maybe he’s always felt more for me and I didn’t see it.

  I’m in no condition today to go there, so I give him what he wants. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Do you honestly believe that, or are you humoring me?”

  “I believe that, even if I also believe that I could’ve handled things better.”

  He shakes his head and cradles my wounded face in his big gentle hands. “No qualifications. You did nothing wrong. You were sharing part of yourself with him. He should’ve been frigging honored to be breathing the same air as you, let alone being allowed into your private life.”

  As he gazes down at me, I have the strangest suspicion that he’d like to kiss me. I’ve kissed a lot of men in my time, and I’d like to think I can tell when someone wants to kiss me. I may be wrong, but before I can decide for certain, his hands are gone and he’s stepped back to take care of the dishes.

  The moment is gone, but I’m left feeling curious. What would it be like to kiss Sebastian Lowe?

  Chapter 5

  I can’t believe I almost fucking kissed her. What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t, and that’s the problem. Just because I’m providing her with sanctuary for a couple of days doesn’t mean I have the right to touch her or kiss her or even think about doing either of those things.

  Get it together, you asshole. She’s Marlowe Sloane, for God’s sake. And after what she’s just been through, the last thing she needs is another guy bothering her.

  Is it too early in the day for vodka?

  Fuck, yes, it is.

  She joins me at the sink with her plate and silverware, giving me a cute little hip check that nearly sends me flying because I wasn’t expecting it.

  That makes her laugh—hard—and God, if the sound of her trademark guffaw doesn’t have me wishing I was a better man, that I was someone who’d be worthy of a fucking goddess like her. I’d willingly sign on for monogamy if I could be monogamous with her. All I can do is smile because that laugh, holy hell, it’s amazing. I’ve always thought so, but being the one to make her laugh that way is the best kind of high.

  “Feeling rather pleased with yourself, are you?” I ask when I return to my place by the sink.

  “I wasn’t expecting to be able to budge you, let alone send you flying.” She starts laughing again.

  I hope she never stops laughing.

  “Didn’t see it coming. Next time, you might hurt yourself.”

  That triggers a low snort and then more laughing.

  She can laugh at me all day if she wants. As long as there’s no more crying, I’m good with whatever she wants to do. I simply can’t bear to see her cry.

  “Are you done laughing at me?”

  “For now.”

  I wash and she dries. It’s all so domestic and easy, as if we’ve done this very thing a million times before. What would that be like, I wonder, to have someone like her around every day to call my own? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had anyone who belonged only to me, and I’ve liked it that way.

  How can one morning with Marlowe have me thinking I might be missing out on something?

  When we’re done cleaning up, I toss the dirty dish towel in the laundry room that’s off my kitchen. “We need to tell the others what happened.”

  “Not yet.”

  “It’s a lot to ask Addie to lie to Hayden.”

  Her gaze drops to the floor. “I know, but I’m not ready for all that anger and testosterone.”

  “They’d want to be here for you.” I tuck a stray strand of her glorious red hair behind her ear. “Just like you’d want to be there for them—the way you’ve always been there for them.”

  “I’m not ready for them to know yet. I just need another day.” She looks up at me with bottomless green eyes. “Please?”

  If she looked at me just like that and asked me to capture the sun for her, I swear I’d die trying. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. You’re the boss.”

  “One more day, and then we can tell them. I’ll tell them.”

  “Okay. What do you feel like doing?”

  “I’d like to take a shower, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course it is. Addie brought a bag for you last night. She said she thinks she got all the most important lotions and potions
, but to let her know if she missed anything.”

  I’m horrified when her eyes again flood with tears. “What is it?”

  “I’m just so lucky,” she says softly. “To have such incredible friends.”

  “We’re lucky to have you, too. Works both ways.” I kiss her forehead. “Go take your shower. You’ll feel better after.”

  “You think so? You think I’ll ever feel good again?”

  “You will. I promise.” That’s a promise I intend to keep, no matter what I have to do. She will feel good about herself again. Under no circumstances can we let that dirtbag Rafe win. I actually can’t wait to tell Flynn and Hayden about this. I’m dying to see what they’re going to do about it. One thing I know for sure is whatever they do will make that son of a bitch sorry he was ever born.

  I’m looking forward to that.

  Flynn and Hayden will close ranks around Marlowe and make Rafe’s life a living hell, the same way they did when Jasper’s asshole father tried to blackmail him. Quantum takes care of its own, and Marlowe is ours. With my thirst for vengeance profound, it’s painful to keep this from the others, but I have to respect her wishes.

  I’ll give her one more day, and then I’m calling in the cavalry. I just hope I’ll still have a job after they find out what I’ve kept from them.

  After Marlowe showers, we spend the rest of the day on my deck, lounging in the sun. We trade sections of the morning edition of the LA Times and then work on the crossword puzzle together.

  She’s tucked in next to me on a single-sized lounge chair, but I only have the one, so when she crawled in next to me, I raised my arm and made her feel welcome, even if her closeness has me trying not to have a typical male reaction to the nearness of a gorgeous female who smells good enough to eat.

  “What’s a seven-letter word for vacation?”

  I’m glad to see her engaged in something other than self-recriminations. “What else do we know?”

  “First letter is a G and the fourth is an A.”

  “Getaway.”

  “Yes!” She bites her lip as she fills in the letters, her brows furrowed adorably in concentration. “You’re good at this.”

  “I’ve been doing crosswords for decades.”

  “Another thing I never knew about you. What else is there?”