Wall Street Titan (Wall Street Titan #1) - Anna Zaires Page 0,42
floor, then studies the frame, where I notice sizable cracks near where the hinges were attached.
God, how strong is Marcus that he was able to do this much damage?
“That’s the one,” I say, trying not to wince as I picture the damage to my bank account from this repair bill. “Do you have any idea how much this will cost?”
“Oh, um…” Juan glances at Rodney in confusion.
“Nothing,” Marcus says, coming out of the kitchen. His voice is hard, utterly uncompromising—as is his expression when he looks at me. “It will cost you absolutely nothing, as I’m the one who broke it.”
“But you did it to save me—because you thought I was in trouble,” I argue, but Marcus is not listening.
“You will send the bill to me,” he orders, giving Rodney a piercing stare, and the man swiftly bobs his head.
“Yes, of course, Mr. Carelli.”
Ugh. I’m tempted to fight further, but I don’t have even a hundred dollars to spare right now, and I suspect their bill will run higher than that. It would be highly embarrassing if I insisted on taking care of the payment and then had to beg for an extension. Besides, Marcus does have a point: it was his savior complex that got us into this mess.
Still, my chest feels unpleasantly tight as I go back to my food, leaving him talking to the repairmen. I know letting Marcus pay for the door he broke doesn’t make me like my mother—logically, I know it—but I can’t help feeling like I’m taking advantage of him.
Like I’m using him, the way she’d always used her lovers and anyone else who cared about her.
Shaking off the memories, I sit down at the desk and shoo Mr. Puffs away from what remains of my gyro—which is not much. The cats have stolen most of the meat while I was away. Sighing, I quickly gobble down the rest and carry the dirty plate to the kitchen, where the sink is indeed clean.
Marcus not only washed his plate, he also dried it and put it away.
I do the same with mine and then put on some coffee, in case he wants a cup. I also take out my last remaining pint of salted caramel ice cream and two bowls, figuring I at least owe him dessert.
He enters the kitchen just as the hammering noises by the entrance begin.
“Ice cream?” I offer, scooping a generous portion into a bowl, and he shakes his head.
“None for me, thanks.”
“You don’t like it?”
He shrugs. “I don’t really eat sweets.”
Of course he doesn’t. Ice cream is for ordinary bums like me, not super-achievers like Marcus who count “fitness” among their hobbies. I’m surprised he ate the greasy gyro; he’s probably as disciplined in his diet as he seems to be in everything else.
“How about coffee?” I ask, and he agrees to that.
Black, of course—no sugar or milk for him.
I pour each of us a cup, then carry my coffee and ice cream bowl back to the room. The cats are nowhere to be seen at first, but then I notice the tip of a fluffy white tail sticking out from under the bed.
They must be hiding from the noise, which now includes both hammering and drilling.
Setting my coffee on the nightstand, I sit down on the bed to eat my ice cream, and to my surprise, Marcus joins me there with his coffee instead of taking his seat at the desk. He sits next to me, less than a foot away, and though we’re both fully dressed, I feel the proximity of his big body as keenly as if we were naked. My mind flashes to the kiss we just shared, and a hot flush covers my skin, my heartbeat jumping as if I’ve launched into a sprint.
Oh God. That kiss.
I’ve been trying not to think about it, so I don’t turn into a blushing, stuttering mess, but I can’t avoid it any longer. Kissing Marcus had to be the single hottest experience of my life, better than any sex I’ve had—or fantasized about. Everything about it was so wrong, yet so incredibly right. The way he held me, like he never wanted to let me go, the way his lips felt and tasted… He didn’t touch me anywhere but my back and my head, but I was on the verge of combusting, so aroused I can still feel the dampness in my underwear.
It doesn’t help that as we sit on the bed, his weight is depressing my