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Marcus doesn’t use words to answer me. His hand slides to the back of my neck, hauling me to him for a kiss that has me weak at the knees.
“You trust me.” He’s stating a fact, not a question. I nod, regardless. “I’ll never betray that trust. I’m yours and you’re mine. Forever.”
My chin wobbles with the effort to hold back my sobs.
“Such a good girl.” Marcus helps me to the couch, then tucks himself in. He pats my hair, his love for me rolling off him in waves. “Let’s see what she wants. Maybe she just used a family emergency as an excuse to elope to a fuck-fest. I could be paranoid.”
He found two dead bodies in his garden. We aren’t naïve enough to think it’s the truth.
Still, while I think that’s a damn good reason to be paranoid, I don’t say it. The more pressure he feels, the more likely he’ll drive off to face Rylan.
I’m. Not. Ready.
“Dr. Hatchett?” Marcus says, putting her on speaker. He beckons me to come closer, pointing at the floor next to his chair. Kneel, he mouths.
A small, hopeful smile tugs at my lips. She must’ve sounded okay. He’s staying.
She answers him, proving me right. “Hi, Marcus. My secretary forwarded me a message from you. Is everything okay?”
I climb off the couch, crawling to him.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” He refers to himself. Doesn’t mention me.
Rylan might be listening.
Marcus fires up his laptop, tapping on a few keys. Videos of various areas of his home in Santa Barbara pop up on the screen. I was right. He suspects Ry has taken his therapist hostage.
From my place on the floor, I see both her and Milo on the couch in the living room, watching television. The sight eases the tension in his jaw.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” his psychiatrist offers, her voice professional. A woman who’s been held captive can’t possibly keep her tone level like this.
I’ve been there. When panic clutches at your throat and you feel threatened, you do not sound so peaceful.
“No.” There’s nothing sexual about the way he positions my cheek on his thigh. My pussy clenches just the same. “Your secretary mentioned a family emergency?”
The fact that Rylan’s home doesn’t make Marcus any less cautious. He speaks in code. Testing his psychiatrist. I gaze up at him, holding my breath. I told myself I didn’t care, but now that I hear her, I do.
I still don’t want Marcus to leave. I also wish really fucking hard that she’s okay.
“Nothing to worry about.” Dr. Hatchett clears her throat. “I’m struggling with the concept of vacation. Saying family emergency lessens the guilt somehow.”
Marcus scratches his scruff, considering her explanation. His other hand clenches and unclenches into a fist in my hair. It soothes him. Me too. The pain brings a strange sense of comfort to my heart.
“I see,” he says eventually. “It wasn’t easy for me to take some time off, either.”
“Of course.” She pauses. “When can I expect you to return?”
I twist my head to look at him, mouthing the word, Never.
He shakes his head at me. “Soon.”
“Do you have everything you need there? Please, don’t hesitate to ask anything.”
His eyebrows dip down, his mouth twisting in a scowl. “What could I possibly need?”
“I was only making a suggestion.” Dr. Hatchett is quick to correct herself. “No need to get defensive.”
“Listen, it’s been nice catching up.” Marcus ignores her, his voice cold. “I have to go.”
