30 Days (Lost Love Trilogy #1) - Belle Brooks Page 0,52

himself before clearing the matter at hand by confirming I indeed know what he’s referring to. The morning has been so lonely, and a little humour never hurt anyone.

Picking the pen up from the table, I go back to the checklist and see what the next task is: blue folder, read through statements. Locating said blue folder, I open to the first page, but just as I’m about to settle in and begin reading, the door almost bursts off its hinges.

Marcus’s eyes burn through me. He’s pissed. His jacket is missing, and his nostrils flare as he huffs.

Oh shit!

“Fucking Solitaire? You’ve been playing fucking Solitaire!” His eyes narrow as he slams the door behind him.

“Um.”

“What, Abigail? You think this is funny?” His voice rises to another level of anger.

“No.” I swallow hard. I’ve never seen him like this, but I’ve also only known him for a week, and even then, I’ve spent limited time in his company.

“I wasn’t playing Solitaire, I … I have the list.”

He stalks towards the desk. My breath hitches in my throat. He places his hands heavily onto the table. He towers over me. I pull my body backwards. Marcus must see the fear on my face because he quickly stands upright, running his hands through his hair while puffing out his cheeks.

“So you’ve got the checklist?” He calms, but I hear tension still present in his voice.

“Yes.”

“Where are you up to, please?” His eyes close.

“Halfway,” I whisper.

“Which half?”

“I’ve done all the copying and lodgements, the eight different sets. I sent through the information about the work you want done to the Sunshine Coast office. Faxed over the folder’s worth of information to the lawyer for the accused, and now I’m up to the researching stuff.”

“Good. Don’t bait me again.”

I have no idea what to say.

He doesn’t even look at me. “Abigail—” He stops, placing his hands to his forehead “—let me know when you’re finished or if I can help you with anything during this process. These statements can be … well, it’s not going to be fun, so if you need me, I’m here.” With that, he leaves, and I’m left with legs that tremble and a heart thrumming so loudly I can hear the blood passing through it.

Holy crap!

Looking back at the blue folder, I’ve learnt a valuable lesson—don’t bait Marcus because he bites. In hindsight, I can understand his reaction, but still, wow, that was intense.

After my stomach settles from the flips that took place during my scolding, I turn my attention back to work. Hopefully, I can make peace later, but for now I’d better behave.

TWENTY-ONE

Beautiful Stranger

Marcus wasn’t lying. The last three hours have been extremely emotional. I’m sick to my stomach and want nothing more than to get the hell out of here. Tutting and huffing, I slam the binder shut. Letters mix together in a ball of fury in my mind. It’s all too much to bear. How am I going to sit in that courtroom and hear these people speak?

“I can’t,” I say under my breath, finding the door handle and pressing down hard. “I need to get out of here,” I whisper, stepping into the lift with hands curled so tightly shut, my nails press sharply into each palm.

The elevator dings. My expensive heels clop loudly as they meet the floor. My heart races faster. Poor Stephanie. No little girl should ever have to know such evil. I won’t read another word of her torture. I can’t. Why did Marcus bring me here for this? I’m not the right person. Tears threaten to spill.

“Abigail, where are you going?” Marcus says. His deep voice echoes around me.

I don’t know where he came from and I don’t answer him. Instead, I pick up my pace.

“Abigail, stop,” Marcus commands, his tone packing a punch.

I halt, turn sharply, and stare into his eyes. “What do you need, Mr Klein?”

“I’d like to know where you might be going, Miss McMillian.”

“Fresh air.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t think I ever will be again.” I walk backwards. Our gazes remain locked. His lips part, but I don’t stop moving as I await his words.

Thud! My body hits the floor hard. My legs move in every direction. There’s an instant pounding in my head.

“Shit! Are you okay?” The words flow out with a hint of humour entwined with concern.

Slowly, I raise my arm and give a thumbs-up. How embarrassing. Opening each eyelid, I’m greeted by Marcus, who leans over me, looking down. His lips are curled upwards