“There was a man touching me.”
He’s silent.
“Yeah, there was.”
“And you stood there and watched. Let me ask you something, Marcus—why did you marry me?”
More silence.
“You can’t even answer, can you? You can’t answer because I mean nothing to you, nothing at all. Why the fuck would you do this to me? Waste my time? Make me love you? Make me your wife? When all you want is a piece of ass in your bed.”
“Katia.”
“Fuck you, asshole. He was touching me.” My voice rises. “He had his hands on a body that is meant to be yours and you didn’t care.”
“I fuckin’ hated it,” he barks.
I flinch. “What?”
“Fuckin’ hated it, but I knew what you were doing. I fuckin’ knew you were trying to get a rise out of me because you were pissed off.”
“What?” I say again.
“Fuck me, Katia. You’re testing’ everything.”
“Just go.”
“No.”
“Marcus.”
He leans down, flipping me to my back and his body falls over mine. I cry out angrily, shoving at his chest but he doesn’t move.
“Stop fighting me, Katia,” he hisses.
“Maybe you should have fought for me. Maybe it would be better for everyone if I just leave!”
“No.”
The word comes out harsh, yet it’s so real, so full of depth, my mouth clamps shut. His mouth finds my neck, and he kisses me softly. God damn him. Damn him. His fingers trail up my sides, his mouth moves over my body and I know he’s getting the better of me. He’s winning. He’s beating me down. He’s making me forgive him with every touch.
“Tell me you love me, Katia,” he demands hoarsely.
“No,” I moan as his mouth slides down my neck.
“Tell me, Katia.”
“Tell you something you refuse to say to me? No!” I cry.
His mouth finds my breast and he sucks it through my nightie. My back arches up off the bed.
“Katia,” he warns.
“Fuck you, Marcus Tandem.”
He growls, low and deadly but I won’t give in. I won’t give him what he’s trying to get out of me. Not tonight. Even though I feel it, with every inch of my body, he won’t be breaking through that wall.
“You’ll forgive me,” he hums against my skin.
“No.”
“Yeah.”
He wins that battle.
He makes me forgive him with his mouth between my legs.
Then with his cock deep inside me.
And I go right back to where I started.
Absolutely head over heels for him, and losing another part of my soul.
CHAPTER 16
THEN
Katia
“Katia!” My mom cries down the phone.
“Mom? What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
“Yes, something has most certainly happened. Katia, I don’t know why you did this for me. I know you can’t afford it, sweetheart.”
Huh?
“Mom, you’re going to have to take a few steps back. I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“The wheelchair.”
The wheelchair?
“What happened? Did it break?”
“Katia,” she says softly. “The new one.”
The new one?
What new one?
“I don’t understand. I didn’t buy a wheelchair.”
“You . . . you didn’t?”
“No, Mom.”
“Then who did?”
“There’s a note on the box, let me see.”
She shuffles about, then a moment later gasps.
“Mom?” I cry. “What?”
“It’s . . . It says . . . I hope this makes your life easier. M.”
M.
Oh God, Marcus.
“Marcus,” I breathe.
“I thought you two weren’t serious, Kat?”
“We’re not.”
“Then . . .”
I told him I work hard and couldn’t afford it. He gave it to her. I told him my boss was an asshole. He fixed it. Marcus is trying to prove to me that he’s worth my time, and I’m starting to believe it.
“Mom—”
“Oh Katia,” she whispers before I can protest. “It’s amazing. I can’t . . . I’m so happy.”
She’s happy.
My heart aches and I know I can’t argue this, and take it off her. I also know somehow that Marcus has twisted this so I owe him. Part of me wants to owe him; part of me is scared. This, though—this makes my heart ache. Today was easily one the best days of my life. When I went back into work my boss apologized, upped my wage and reduced my hours.
Whatever Marcus did changed him.
And in doing that, he changed my life.
I lift my purse and say down the phone, “I have to go, Mom, but I’ll help you set it up as soon as we’re home.”
“Oh, it’s electric!” she cries.
With a smile, I hang up the phone and wave down a cab.
Then I head to Marcus’s house.
~*~*~*~
“Is Marcus in?” I ask, leaning a hip against reception.
“He’s just in a meeting,” the receptionist mutters. “He won’t be long.”
“Is Candy in?”
She narrows her eyes. “Is there a reason you’re here?”
Oh, someone doesn’t like me. She’s not the same receptionist I met last time I was here. Maybe she’s one of Marcus’s ex lovers. It wouldn’t surprise me.
“Well,” I say, grinning at her, “I was with Marcus last night, or to be precise, in his bed, so I’m here to see him.”
“You and the rest of the country,” she says, bitterly.
Definitely a cow.
“He told me to come here. If you don’t like it, you can take it up with him. I’m going to see Candy.”
With that, I shove past her and head up to Candy’s office. She’s sitting at her desk on the phone, but when I enter she ends the call and jumps up, rushing over and throwing her arms around me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, leaning back.
“I’m here to see Marcus.”
She narrows her eyes and then throws her hands on her hips. “Why?”
I grin at her. “None of your business, missy.”
“It is my business if you’re going to go into his office, where I can hear, by the way, and jump his bones.”
“He bought Mom a wheelchair.”
She blinks.
“Marcus Tandem bought your mother a wheelchair?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Marcus is a player.”
My chest clenches but I nod in agreement. “It would appear that way.”
“He doesn’t buy,” she leans in close and hisses, “wheelchairs.”
I purse my lips. “Well, he did.”
“What did you do to him?”
I laugh softly. “I have no idea.”
A group of men walk past, and Candy nods at them. “Those were his guys. He’s free.”
My heart begins pounding harder as I straighten. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Keep it in your pants, honey.”
Laughing, I step out of the office and turn to face Marcus’s. He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the men go. When he notices me, his eyes flick my way and his face grows lusty. Oh boy. I smile, unable to hold it back. It comes out huge, and bright, and full of appreciation.
Then I walk towards him on shaky legs. Knowing what I’m going to do when I get there, and knowing I shouldn’t. I can’t stop myself, even if I wanted to. He bought my mother a wheelchair. He changed her life in a way I don’t even think he understands. When I reach him, my hand goes up and curls around his neck and I tug him down. His lips find mine and I kiss him with everything inside me. I kiss him so
hard he groans deep in his throat.
He steps backwards, hooking me around the waist and pulling me into the room. He twists us, kicks the door shut and slams me against it. My back presses against the cool wood and his body presses against me. I kiss him until I can’t breathe and he returns it with full force. He shows me depth, and passion and beauty. In a frenzy, I rip into his shirt, untucking it and sliding my hands up his delectable abs.
He rumbles low, and pulls up my skirt, wrenching his lips from mine. He buries his head into my neck, kissing me there while his fingers glide up my thighs, making little tingles appear everywhere he touches. “Did you get a pay rise?” he murmurs into my ear.
“Yes,” I breathe when his fingers find my pussy.
“Did your mom get her chair?”
“God, yes.”
“You’re welcome.”
I moan when he slips his fingers inside me. He thrusts deep, while his other hand works on his belt. He releases himself, slides his fingers from my depths and hooks my leg around his waist. Then he takes hold of his cock and guides it slowly inside my aching pussy. I moan when he impales me, my head drops back and my fingers clutch his arms.
“Tight, sweet cunt,” he growls against my neck.
“Jesus,” I breathe.
He starts fucking me against the wall, hard and deep. His cock destroys me, little by little, with every one of its beautiful thrusts. His mouth devours my neck, his hands clutch my ass and he fucks me in a way I’ve never been fucked. My hips and ass are bouncing on his cock as he picks up the pace, using my bottom to drive his thrusts.
Then someone knocks on the door.
“Fuck,” he breathes, slowing his thrusts but not stopping altogether. Then he barks, “What?”
“Marcus, you have the next lot of men for the meeting.”
The receptionist. Bad timing, lady.
“Marcus,” I whisper.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, then yells, “Be there in ten.”
“Did you want me to prepare the presentation?”
He slides his cock out then drives it back in, making me whimper into his chest.
“Yeah.”
“And what about morning tea? Who is organizing that?”
“Tell her to go away,” I whisper into his ear. “God. Marcus. I need you to fuck me harder.”
He flashes me a rare, wild grin and my heart does a little flip-flop. He tilts my hips, lifting them off the door slightly, and continues fucking me while he answers. My nipples harden against his suit jacket, and God, I want to come.
“Candice knows,” he yells out. “Now, if you don’t mind?”
“Right,” she says. “Sorry.”
He turns his face back to me, and starts fucking me hard again. I come after the second deep thrust and my body convulses around him.
“Yeah,” he grunts.
Then he’s coming too. He slows his thrusts, head thrown back, jaw tight. He milks himself using my body, groaning with each pull and push. Then he slowly lowers me off him and I straighten.
“I never said thank you,” I whisper.
His eyes flash to mine. “Thought that was what you just did.”
I smile shyly.
He studies me.
Then he turns away, something coming across his face I don’t quite understand.
“I have to go to this meeting,” he informs me.
“I know.”
“Dinner tonight, seven.”
It’s an order. I’m happy to oblige.
“Okay.”
He turns to me, pulls me forward, kisses me hard, and then he’s gone.
And I think I just fell in love with him.
CHAPTER 17
NOW
Katia
Bang, bang, bang.
I groan and roll, flickering my eyes open. What the hell? There’s a loud pounding at the door. Shifting my body, I feel I’m alone. Yet again. Marcus fucked me, oh God did he fuck me. Then, as always, he left me alone when I fell asleep. I refuse to analyze that right now. I’m more concerned about the banging at the door.
No one comes to the front door, so it’s strange, especially at this time of the morning. With a groan, I throw myself out of the bed. I run my fingers through my hair then I throw it up with a clip before pulling on a pair of shorts and a long, baggy t-shirt. Then I stalk out of the room, mumbling about the time of the morning and my lack of coffee.
When I reach the front door, I rub my eyes and then swing the door open. There’s a good-looking man standing there, and as I take him in, he seems familiar some how. He’s tall, super tall. He’s got dark hair that curls around his shoulders, and chocolate brown eyes.
His skin is a beautiful olive and overall he’s quite handsome. Older, but handsome. Without a doubt. Something strange nags at my chest. It’s like I’ve met him before. Maybe he’s been into the office. I’m not sure, but there’s something about him...
“Is Marcus here?” he barks, cutting off my thoughts.
“Pardon?” I say.
Jesus, someone is rude.
“I said,” he growls, glaring past me. “Is Marcus here?”
“And you are...”
“The name is Pierre.”
My entire world stands still and everything falls into place. The reason I’ve seen him before, the reason he looks so fucking familiar is because he’s my Father. I may not know a lot about him, but I know his name. It’s the one thing my mother gave me. That and an old photo. He was younger then, but now I picture it in my mind, I realize it’s where I’ve seen him.
My hands begin to shake and my knees tremble to the point I’m forced to grip the doorframe to steady myself.
My father.
Here in front of me.
I don’t...I don’t understand.
“I...”
“Are you fuckin’ deaf?” he barks.
His voice...so deep, so thick. Not exactly a father like voice. No, it’s very masculine, very authoritive.
I can’t believe it’s him. Does he know about me? Does he even know he has a daughter? I want my voice to come out but it won’t. It’s gone. I’m empty. I can’t speak. Emotions swirl through my body, so many questions come to my mind but the thing that gets me the most is the burning curiosity about the man in front of me.
I came from him...
“I...”
“Jesus, tell Marcus he has a guest, will you?”
I blink at him.
He hasn’t really studied me, not a lot. His eyes have barely landed on mine, because they’re darting behind me, from side to side, and basically scanning the perimeter. When I still don’t answer his question, he finally looks at me and his eyes scan over my face and he freezes. His entire body jerks and he goes so still I’m worried he’s about to have some sort of panic attack.
I know it’s because he can see her. I look so much like my mother, there’s no denying that. I thought it was always her I got 100% of my features from, but now I’m studying him, up close, there’s so much about me that’s like him, too.
“I’ll,” I swallow. “Get him.”
I turn, with trembling legs and hurry back into the house.
“Wait!”
Shit. He can see it, too.
I keep rushing.
“I said,” he growls, rushing in and taking hold of my arm. “Wait.”
He spins me around and I gasp, struggling backwards.
“I don’t...understand?” he breathes. “Who are you?”
“I’m sorry,” I cry. “I don’t know you. Please, let me go.”
It’s such a lie, I don’t even know why I said it, but suddenly I’m panicked. My father is in front of me. My father. How the hell am I supposed to understand it, let alone deal with it? His eyes flash at my words and I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
“Who is your mother?”
Oh shit.
“Marcus?” I cry, angrily.
“Answer me, girl.”
“Please,” I whimper. r />
“It’s Sandra, isn’t it?”
“Stop, oh God,” I cry. “Marcus!”
“How old are you?”
I jerk my arm from his grip and we stand there, staring at each other. I can tell by his face this has come as a shock to him. A huge shock. His eyes are frantically scanning over my face and his breathing is deep and trembling. He can see it; I know he can because I do. My skin. The shape of my eyes. Even my nose. It’s all his.
“It can’t be true,” he whispers.
Tears burn under my eyelids. It’s my dad. My dad...
“It’s why she ran, isn’t it?”
He really didn’t know about me. Oh God.
“I didn’t know.”
Double oh God.
My chest seizes.
“I didn’t fucking know,” he whispers.
I don’t have time to process his words. My heart is aching and tears are burning my eyes. Suddenly my father is in front of me. Yesterday I didn’t even know him. I didn’t know he lived close by, let alone knew my husband.
I try to push the fact out of my brain that Marcus knows this man because it makes fear and slight rage burn in my belly. Is that why he’s married to me? Does it have something to do with my father?
“What’s your name?” he murmurs, low.
“Katia, what’s going on?”
I hear Marcus’ voice invading the space like a whip and I spin to see him standing in the doorway in his running clothes. I back towards him, but stop suddenly when I realize this is quite possibly why he’s with me. I glance back at my father, who is watching Marcus now with a hard expression. A hand curls around my arm and Marcus hauls me back.
“Let me go, Marcus,” I whisper.
“Do you know who that man is?” he growls in my ear.
“Yeah, my Father.”
He flinches and breathes, “What?”
He doesn’t know? He had to know. How could he not know?
“Marcus, let her fuckin’ go,” My father breathes, low.
“Why the fuck are you in my house, Pierre?”
Oh God.
“Why the fuck have you got that girl?”
“This girl,” Marcus hisses. “Is my wife.”
I don’t understand what’s happening.
“What?” Pierre growls. “You fuckin’ piece of-”
“Why the fuck are you in my house?” Marcus roars.
I flinch and try to jerk my arm out of his, but he won’t let me go. He pulls me tighter against him, wrapping an arm around my waist.