Page 115 of Marcus

If only she could have said yes.

Really, she didn’t know.

The assistant still took her calls, and Cella had little to no desire to explain to the woman that she wanted to speak with Marcus because their relationship was more than just this fucking penthouse. It wasn’t the woman’s business so what did it matter?

“I haven’t seen Marcus, no,” Cella said quietly. “And I am leaving tonight to fly back home, so I can pick you up as soon as you open your eyes tomorrow. How does that sound?”

Actually, she’d arrive in New York around midnight, drive to her parents’, and sleep there for the night, but those were details that weren’t important for Tiffany to know. She hadn’t even bothered to drive to Toronto this time when she wouldn’t be staying for longer than the couple of hours it would take to give her final approval on the majority of the rooms.

“I miss Marcus.”

Cella went back to the conversation with her daughter, wishing her heart didn’t feel like the entire organ had broken into a million and one pieces inside her chest. She kept trying to fix it, but nothing worked.

Nothing but him would do it.

Tiffany helped, though.

“Me, too,” Cella replied.

On the screen, Tiffany frowned. “Well, if you do see him, will you tell him I said hi?”

“I absolutely will, baby. Now, I gotta go so I can finish up here before the team comes in for our meeting. I will call you back to say goodnight, okay?”

“Okay, Ma. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Cella hung up the call, and slipped the phone into her bag as she turned around to head for the kitchen of the penthouse. One of the first rooms to be fully finished and ready for her final approval. She didn’t make it more than a step toward the kitchen because as soon as she turned around, she came face to face with a Guzzi she hadn’t expected.

Chris stood at the end of the entry hallway, leaning against the wall as though he had been standing there for a while. Cella let out a gasp, her hand coming up to press against her chest where her heart suddenly felt like it was about to race right out of her chest.

“You don’t make noise?” she asked him.

The man shrugged. “Was taught not to, actually. It’s better this way. I often hear things people don’t intend for me to, and I like that.”

“Spying, you mean?”

He didn’t reply.

Cella had another thought. “Were you listening to my conversation with my child?”

Chris cleared his throat. “Maria asks about her a lot—Tiffany, I mean. Always wants to know when she’s coming back so they can play hide-and-seek again. Mia Cara is still too young to really play it right, and all, so …”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I know.” Chris let out a hard breath, tipping his head to the side as he surveyed her. “You just took off that day—and I was right, you were the first person he asked for when he came out of the sedation.”

Ouch.

The man didn’t pull any punches.

That one hit her right in the heart.

“Tell me,” Cella replied, “between the flashbacks I was trying to get through of my husband’s murder, my terrified daughter, and the police officer who was threatening to deport me while also file paperwork to make sure my daughter stayed in their custody because she was a witness … how I should have handled that day, Chris?”

The man said nothing.

Cella nodded, scoffing under her breath. Not caring if he had anything more to say to her, she decided that she didn’t have to stand there and wait for him to figure it out. She headed past him in the hallway, determined to just wait in her rental car downstairs until the team showed up for her final directions.