Wall Street Titan (Wall Street Titan #1) - Anna Zaires Page 0,14
a new, less sincere smile, she says, “Thanks again for returning the phone, Marcus. I really appreciate you coming all the way out here. If you’ll excuse me…” She gives me an expectant look, and I realize I’m still standing on her doorstep, blocking the door.
I should move—that would be the polite, gentlemanly thing to do—but I don’t. Instead, I ask bluntly, “Do you hate Wall Street or something?”
I know I’m borderline harassing the girl, but I can’t let her go like this. Once she gets into her apartment—a shithole place, judging by the rundown state of the door—it’ll all be over. She’ll go about her life, and I’ll return to mine, and I’m not ready for that to happen.
“Um, no. I don’t have anything against your profession. I mean, not really.” She gives me a wary look. “I just—” She inhales. “Look, Marcus, I really appreciate the gesture and all, but I’m hungry and exhausted, and I still need to feed my cats and answer some emails. We can debate Wall Street ethics some other time.”
Some other time? Something tense inside me relaxes. Though she undoubtedly meant her words as a polite brush-off, I’m going to take them at face value.
I’m going to see Emma again and figure out what it is that draws me to her.
Stepping aside, I say, “Sounds good. Goodnight, Emma. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“Same here. Goodbye, Marcus, and thanks again,” she says, pulling her keys out of her purse as she steps around me.
I watch her open the door, making sure she gets inside safely, and when the door closes behind her, I order another Uber and make a note on my phone about the next steps. My pulse is thrumming with excitement, and my muscles are coiled tight in anticipation of the new challenge.
I’m acting completely unlike myself, but I no longer care. Emma might not be what I need for the long term, but she’s what I want for the moment, and for the first time in my life, I’m going to live in the present.
I’m going to have the lush little redhead for dessert and worry about consequences later.
9
Emma
My legs are shaking as I make it into my apartment and hang up my coat by the door. Whatever little energy I got from eating the banana is long gone, and I’m all but passing out from hunger. Despite that, I have the strange sensation that I’m floating on air, my heart racing from the aftereffects of adrenaline and dizzying excitement.
Marcus—tall, arrogant Marcus with his perfectly tailored suit and a coat that costs more than my quarterly rent—came to my apartment and returned my phone.
It seems impossible, surreal, yet it clearly happened, as I’m holding said phone in my hand. He gave it to me, and now instead of worrying about the hit to my bank account, I’m unsettled for a completely different reason. My breathing is panic-attack fast, my palms are sweating, and I feel so wired I could bounce off the walls despite my exhaustion.
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Marcus came to my apartment.
When I first saw him standing there, looking like some kind of caped villain in his unbuttoned knee-length winter coat, I thought he was a burglar and nearly had a heart attack. Because why else would someone be lurking on my doorstep so late in the evening? I was a second away from screaming my head off and sprinting away when he spoke, and then my knees went weak for a different reason.
The man who was on my mind all through the subway ride home—the man I was convinced I’d never see again—was by my door, being the complete opposite of an asshole.
Right now, I’m too tired and hyper to figure out what that whole encounter meant, so I don’t even try. Instead, I focus on my cats, who are all rushing toward me, meowing loudly. Mr. Puffs, as the biggest, pushes Queen Elizabeth and Cottonball out of the way and stakes his claim on me by winding his giant furry body between my legs as I attempt to make my way to the kitchen.
“Stop it, Puffs,” I order, but he ignores me, rubbing himself on my calves to mark his territory. His siblings follow in a calmer fashion; as usual, they let Mr. Puffs be the annoying one.
“Oh, come on, just give me a second,” I say in exasperation, nearly tripping over his tail. “I’m getting you food, I promise.”