A Father's Bliss (A Holinight Novella)

5. Renee

To no one’s surprise, Marcus’s favorite restaurant is stunning.

It’s inside one of the many upscale buildings on the west bank of town, overlooking the marina. Chandeliers give the dining room a soft glow, velvet upholstered chairs rest at every table, and linens that look as if they’re made from ridiculously expensive silk cover each one. It’s beautiful, cozy, and entirely too intimate for two coworkers.

At least, I’m probably supposed to feel like it’s too intimate, but I don’t. Not really. In fact, the entire restaurant matches one of many I used to daydream of him taking me to when my crush was at an all time high.

I say that like I don’t still harbor inappropriate feelings for the man, but my point stands.

As we walk through the dining area, my gaze flits to the floor to ceiling windows facing the marina. There are about a dozen boats tied to the dock, all of which are different shapes and sizes. One in particular catches my eye as it’s not only the longest out of the bunch, but it’s a different color. The shiny black exterior is a stark contrast to the surrounding white boats, and behind it, the horizon of the massive lake shimmers a gorgeous blue under the setting sun.

“Is this alright?” Marcus’s sweet as sin voice pulls my attention from the window. He’s standing at a table for two, one hand in his slack’s pocket, the other resting on the back of the chair.

He’s so damn poised and proper, while inside, I’m buzzing like I’m on my third glass of Stella Rosa. “This is perfect. Beautiful view.”

The hint of a smirk appears as he nods once, his gaze on me as he pulls out the chair for me. “It is.”

Heat floods my face as I sit, and watch as he takes his seat opposite me. Not a second after he’s settled, a server appears with a bottle of wine. “Good evening. My name is Pierre and I’ll be serving you this evening. Can I interest either of you in a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon?”

While I want nothing more than to drown these annoying nerves that I rarely ever get in alcohol, I know that crosses a line. Shaking my head, I reach for the menu on the table. “I’ll have water, please.”

“And for you, sir?”

“Same.”

“Very well. I’ll return momentarily.”

“It’s Father”s Day.” I note when our server disappears between the tables. “You don’t want a glass of Jack? Maybe a beer?”

He shakes his head, reclining in his chair. “I don’t drink, actually.”

Considering his son consumes alcohol like water, I should have figured as much. Besides physically, they seem to be complete opposites in almost every way. Where Harrison is loud and outgoing, Marcus is calm and rather introverted. Where his son is cocky and a low key narcissist, he is always humble and kind, even when my dad just got done rubbing it in his face that he landed a deal bigger than him.

I’ve always been curious as to why they were so different, and even gone so far as to wonder if they’re the opposites in bed, too.

There wasn’t a single time I can remember being truly satisfied with Harry. Not one moment I felt like putting up with the less than ideal parts of him was worth it.

Why did I stay with him so long again?

Before I can answer my internal question, Marcus clears his throat. “Do you enjoy being on the water?”

I blink twice, realizing while I was lost in thought, I was staring out of the window again, my eyes unfocused on the black boat.

Clearing my throat, I turn my attention back to him. His dark gaze is a mix of serious and curious, and the weight of it settles somewhere low in my stomach. I would tell myself to get a grip, but who am I kidding? When it comes to Marcus Debois, my hands are slick and anything I’d try to grab onto would just send me plummeting to my death.

“Actually, I’ve never been.”

His surprise—if that’s what I’d even call it—is evident only in the small line that forms between furrowed brows. “Ever?”

I shake my head. Even though our city is one of the most popular getaway spots in the state for our renowned Bliss Lake, I’ve yet to visit it. “Not once.”

His lips draw down in the corner. “Interesting. May I ask why?”

Shrugging, my fingers play at the edge of the menu I still haven’t looked at. “My old man and I always had our nose in a book. I guess neither of us really had a desire to.”

“What about when you were in school? None of your friends dragged you over there during spring break?”

Though my friends were more considered a group of like minded individuals who all just sat around and read, my answer is the same. “Not really on our agenda. But, I have always wanted to learn how to fish.”

This garners a reaction, albeit a small one, from Marcus as he leans forward. “And what would make someone who has no desire to go on the water want to learn how to fish?”

I shrug again. “I read it in a book once and thought it would be fun.”

I leave out the part where I tell him it was a dark romance book and I thought it was hot how the hero was stalking the woman and made her come with the pole, because you know, professionalism and all.

Marcus is quiet for a moment that stretches on so long, I almost think I did say that part out loud. But then as Pierre approaches with our waters, and my insides are all but on fire with potential embarrassment, he nods toward the window. “I can teach you how to fish.”

“What?”

He smirks, that damn dimple on the right making an appearance. “I can teach you how to fish.”

“No, I heard you, I mean—” I accept my water from the server with a thanks before taking a long sip. I hadn’t realized how unbelievably thirsty I was until it hits my throat. “You know how to fish?”

He thanks Pierre and asks for a few extra minutes to look over the menu without taking his eyes from me. When he leaves, Marcus simply nods. “Amongst other things, yes.”

The responding eruption of intense tingles that work their way through my body should have me worried about some obscure medical condition. Somehow, though, I manage to clear my throat and form a coherent question. “How often do you fish?”

“About every other weekend, if not more.” He picks up his glass and takes a long pull. I watch his throat bob with the swallow, and for a second, can only focus on the involuntary clench my core does to match. “It’s nice to be out there where I can read for pleasure.”

“You have a boat?” It’s a self explanatory question, but it’s all I can manage.

He nods toward the window, placing his water back on the table. “That one right there.”

My eyes follow his to the long black yacht I was admiring earlier. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. It was a gift to myself after I graduated and decided to take my own path.”

I’d heard the story before. A doctor in the making turned literary agent. “That must have been hard. Straying away from what your parents wanted, and doing what you chose instead.”

Marcus lifts a single shoulder. “It was difficult knowing I would disappoint them, but I also knew it would be temporary. I figured they would come around when they saw how happy my career choice made me.”

“And did they?” I ask, my hands finally releasing their grip on the menu.

“Eventually, yes.” He glances out the window, his thoughts somewhere else entirely before he turns back to me. “Do you like trout?”

A surprised laugh slips past my lips. “Will you judge me if I tell you I don’t know?”

Living in a city known for its massive lake and plentiful rivers, there are more than enough seafood restaurants around. Knowing the difference between trout, bass, tilapia, perch and so on, is not my forte as much as if it’s glazed in garlic, lemon and butter. If it’s got that, I’ll eat it.

“I won’t judge you, but I’ll insist you allow me to remedy that.”

My smile spreads. “Oh yeah? And how would you do that?”

Marcus stands, quickly slipping his wallet from his pocket and pulling out a fifty to toss on the table. Then he stretches out a hand toward me which I take without a second thought. Grabbing my purse from beside me, I stand, stifling a giggle as I let him lead us out.

It isn’t until we’re pushing through the front door and walking toward the docks that I finally speak. “Oh, you mean like right now?”

Though I’m slightly behind him, I catch the whisper of his smile. “What better time?”

“I mean, true, but do you already have trout to cook?”

He shakes his head, his fingers flexing around mine, reminding me we’re still attached. I should have some other thought besides how natural it feels, but I don’t. “No, but why not use this moment to teach you how to fish as well? Two stones.”

My mouth opens twice before I close it as I follow him toward the yacht. This moment, this act of spontaneity, is already such a rare sight, I don’t even consider wasting it with dumb questions.

The dock lights flicker to life the second we reach it, and continue past, getting to the boat in the next few steps.

Up close, it’s even longer and more elegant than I observed from the restaurant. Swaying in the water about a foot away, parallel to the platform, Marcus leads us to a part where the side drops and the rails stop. My eyes widen when I realize what he wants me to do.

“Fun fact,” I start, pushing my hair over my shoulder. “I’m actually kind of clumsy, and I can almost guarantee, I’ll manage to slip and end up in the water.”

Marcus grants me one of those rare smiles that changes his entire face. My heart flutters. “We can’t have that. Would you like me to help you?”

“Please.”

He drops my hand, but before I have time to register the strange feeling of loss, his open palms hover next to my waist. “May I?”

My eyes drop to where his hands are and a million alarms blare in my head for me to scream fuck yes, but I manage a squeaky, “Yes, please.”

His gaze darkens, whether it be from the shadows cast over his face from stepping closer, or some other reason, and arousal floods my system. It burns out every other thought except about how good his firm hold feels curled around my waist.

A small, hopefully indecipherable, whimper escapes my lips as he lifts, and effortlessly hoists me up on the deck. I grab onto the railing as I take a step further onto the boat. When I whirl around, I can still feel the burn of his fingers through my clothes.

“Thank you.”

He nods once before taking a step back, his eyes sweeping over me as if to ensure I’m steady. He doesn’t look entirely convinced. “I’m going to untie her and I’ll join you in a moment. Make yourself at home, but maybe, not so close to the railing.”

Lifting a hand, I tip an invisible hat, and take another step away from the edge. “Yes, sir.”

I don’t miss the shimmer that passes over his eyes as he smirks and turns on his heels.

It’s only when he’s far enough down to unhook the first anchor that I take a full breath and the reality of what’s happening finally hits me.

It’s Sunday night, and I’m alone with Marcus Debois on his private yacht about to drift out on the lake.

While I’m sure everything about this is going to be innocent and professional and only deepen our working relationship, I can’t help but watch the muscles beneath his dress shirt flex as he works. Can’t help but notice the veins protrude from his forearms as he wraps a rope around his hand.

Can’t help but admit that while this is likely meant to be innocent and professional, I want nothing more than for it to be downright sinful and the furthest thing from anything remotely professional. I want to know if his lips are as soft as they look. If he’s as commanding as he seems. If he is everything I fantasized about.

I’d be willing to break a lot of rules just to find out.

Thank fuck Marcus isn’t as irrational.