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Chapter 27

Natalie

Marcus never ceases to amaze me.

When Steve told us news that directly involved my sister and her husband, my jaw hit the floor. It took me no less than four eye blinks and an audible gasp before I reset it again.

Marcus simply nodded once, thanked Steve for the information, and turned to me with a smile. He processed the information that should have been hot in his hands with the grace of a president who’d just been told their country was under fire.

He placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me to the dance floor.

“Marcus,” I said, but he shook his head and lowered his face until his lips brushed the hair next to my ear.

“Later,” he said. There was no tone. No warning or authority. The word was spoken softly, like it was a second thought. The way you’d respond if someone asked if you wanted dessert after dinner and you weren’t quite ready for it. A maybe later.

After that, the music picked up, and we danced the night away. We drank and stayed much later than I thought we would. Later than either of us would normally want to. We stayed until the event was almost over and said goodbye to every leaving guest; Marcus held his cool. He was pleasant. Easygoing.

Fucking impeccable.

By the time we got into the SUV that night, I had almost forgotten about what Steve had said because the evening was really just that lovely. We dropped Tuck off first. Marcus gave him a nod, and he nodded back, the sort of exchange that says We’ll talk later. Then Tuck nodded at me and smiled.

I didn’t say anything about my sister and Garrett; I wasn’t sure if I should in front of the driver.

“Where to, sir?” Avery asks as we pull away from the curb.

“To Miss Blythe’s home,” he answers, but I speak over him.

“No, no,” I say, and Avery’s eyes flicker in the rearview mirror at me. “Mr. Ashford’s place is fine.”

I can feel Marcus’s eyes on me as I say the words. But I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. Instead, I just smile softly and watch the lights outside the window as we make our way through the night.

We make our way to his penthouse in SoFi. It’s a corner condo with glass walls as opposed to normal windows and three-sixty views of Miami and the bay.

“This is fancy,” I say, setting my shoes on the floor that I kicked off hours ago.

“It’s comfortable enough,” Marcus says as he flips a couple of light switches, enough that we have more than city light to work with but not enough to make things bright.

“That’s one way of putting it,” I tell him as I slowly pad my way across the cherry wood floor and over to the giant black leather sectional.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks. “I have wine, whiskey, beer…”

“I’m alright,” I say as I wander over to the window. The view is really something. I have a view at my place too. One I certainly can’t complain about. I can see sunsets and the tide. Waves in the distance. Jamie and I sit on the balcony some nights when the sun is warm and the breeze is salty. We’ll have lemonade and popcorn or cookies or ice cream sandwiches and watch the swells on the horizon swallow the sun.

But it’s nothing like this.

This is luxury. This is the top of the world. And the man who owns this view sits on a throne compared to us.

This could be Jamie’s view…

The thought is brushed from my mind when Marcus’s hands slide over my shoulders and down my arms. I look up at him.

“You look a million miles away,” he says, and his lips touch my shoulder.

“It’s easy to get lost with this view,” I say, barely above a whisper. “It’s stunning.”

“You’re stunning,” he says before turning me around to face him. His eyes search mine, his face softer than I’ve ever seen it.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks, his hands holding mine.