6. Anton
CHAPTER 6
ANTON
LONDON, EARLY SEPTEMBER – MARCIE ON MY MIND
T he screen in front of me was a blur of numbers, lines, and columns—each one running into the next in a disjointed mess that made my eyes ache. Outgoings. Profits. Invoices. The usual. I’d been over these figures a hundred times, and yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t focus on the spreadsheet in front of me. The digits swam before my eyes, indistinct and impossible to pin down, as my mind turned inwards. To her. Marcie.
Her name clung to me like a whisper in the back of my mind, dragging me deeper under her spell. It had been three months since I’d last seen her. Three months of keeping my head down, trying to forget her, trying to remind myself why I’d kept my distance, and convince myself it was for the best. But the longer I stayed away, the harder it became. These months of avoiding her had done nothing to ease my need for her. If anything, they’d made it worse.
I glanced back at the spreadsheet, but her face filled my mind again—her challenging gaze, that spark of defiance that both irritated me and pulled me in, that soft, husky laugh that always cut right through me. The absence of my Little Miss Sassy, with her quick wit and cheeky remarks, had left more of a void in my life than any of my prior losses. She haunted me more than any of them, too. That was a sobering thought.
I’d no idea if my Little Miss Sassy had finally let go and moved on. I hadn’t asked Nick, and he’d not mentioned Marcie to me, not since I told him, the Monday after her party, whatever had been between us was over. He’d just looked at me like the fool I knew I was, shook his head, and never uttered her name to me again. Neither had Derrick. And I hated it. It was my own fault, but knowing that didn’t help.
So, for the last three months I had stewed over the idea that she’d pushed me out of her mind, forgotten about me, and moved on. After all, a woman like Marcie didn’t sit around waiting—especially for someone who’d made it clear he wasn’t interested. Not that she should. Of course not.
Eyes glazed, I skimmed over the spreadsheet again, each cell blurring into the next. My focus was shot, my patience gone. One minute, all I could think about was seeing her, being near her, and then the next, I’d tell myself to get a grip and stop torturing myself. But it was useless. The connection we had—whatever it was—felt like a constant tug in my chest, a gravitational pull I couldn’t ignore.
“Fuck.” The curse slipped out as I snapped the laptop shut, frustration taking over. Pathetic. This was bloody pathetic. I was used to being in control, to keeping things in check, but it was like she’d stolen that from me the moment I walked out her door.
My fingers tapped restlessly against the desk, the dull rhythm doing nothing to calm the nerves gnawing at me. Running a hand through my hair, I took a slow breath, but it didn’t help.
Tonight would be the first time I’d see her since that morning I left her flat. We’d both be at the Rominov’s next event—a bare-knuckle fight, of all things, arranged by the Bratva to seal their alliance with the Irish Mafia. It was all part of the business, a “friendly” match to bond the two sides, but that didn’t make it any less intense. Vlad and one of the Irish boys would be trading punches in the ring while the rest of us watched.
Claire and the Rominov’s lawyer, Brad, had managed to get Luca exonerated when she discovered the actual killer was one of the MP’s bodyguards. Of course, the MP was behind it, as we’d suspected, but it had been a bloody difficult time for Luca, who’d been in jail for a spell. That’s where he’d met two of the Irish Mafia. They’d had his back inside, and now they were the Bratva’s new allies, which was good.
That wasn’t the only good thing to come out of Luca’s predicament. Claire had finally got over her issues with him being part of the Bratva, and they were together. Luca was totally enamoured by her, and I was truly happy for them, yet I couldn’t help the pang of envy that ran through me. If only things could have worked out between Marcie and me. But that was a pipe dream I couldn’t allow myself to indulge in.
Pipe dream or not, Marcie was like a habit I couldn’t break, an addiction I couldn’t shake, and tonight, I’d get my first taste of her after all of these weeks. How was I going to cope?
Laughter filtered through the door, dragging me back to reality. It was coming from the hallway, voices rising in good-natured chatter—the kind that only came when people were comfortable with each other.
I blinked, then glanced at the clock. Shit. Time had slipped away from me again. Before I could finish cursing myself, the door to my office cracked open, and Mrs Hargrove’s head popped around it. Her usual stern expression softened when she saw me, and I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. Her silver hair was neatly pinned up, and she wore a bright floral dress, almost too cheerful for the mood I was in.
“Mr DuPont,” she began, her voice as matter-of-fact as ever, “Nick’s birthday. Derrick’s brought in a cake, and the men are gathering in the breakout area to wish him a happy birthday. I thought you’d like to join them.”
I nodded absently, pushing the laptop to one side. “I’ll be right out.”
“Of course. I’ll let them know you’re on your way,” she replied before disappearing again.
Exhaling a long breath, I tried to ignore the lingering thoughts swirling around my head about Marcie. It was Nick’s birthday, and I was his friend as well as his boss. I had to at least appear present at his celebration. I wasn’t sure when I’d got so used to being stuck in my head, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed by those who knew me.
A few minutes later, I walked out into the main office. Everyone was gathered in the breakout area, and as I approached, the chatter grew louder. The usual mix of joking and banter filled the air as my men—my friends—turned their attention toward me.
Nick, standing at the centre of it, immediately grinned when he saw me, his face lighting up with genuine pleasure. I forced myself to smile back, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
“Happy birthday, Nick,” I said, clapping him on the back.
“Thanks, boss,” Nick replied, his grin widening. “Appreciate you taking the time out of your day to celebrate with the plebs,” he teased.
Nick was one of the first of my military comrades I’d employed when I’d opened DuPont Security. He’d been one of the men in my squad and left not long after me. He’d been only too happy to take me up on the offer of a job and move to London. Within weeks, he’d met Derrick and made a home here for himself.
We’d been the same rank in the forces, but now I was his boss—and he liked to rib me about it whenever he could.
“Arse,” I said, with a good-natured snigger.
My eyes flicked to Derrick, standing next to Nick, holding a cake box, ever the picture of immaculate grooming. Always sharp. Beside him, Nick looked rough and ready for anything. Where Nick was generally quiet, unless he knew a person well, Derrick could talk the hind legs off a donkey. Where Nick was an introvert, Derrick was an out-and-out extrovert. They’d both been medics in the military, yet where Nick had a quiet confidence and a softer bedside manner, Derrick exuded an unshakable charisma and a bold, magnetic energy that seemed to draw people in. They were a pair of stark contrasts, but it was clear they complimented each other well and made a good team.
Derrick nodded at me with a respectful smile before handing the cake box to Mrs Hargrove, who stuck a candle in the middle and led us all in a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ that sounded more like a drunken chant than a song. The only voice that didn’t grate on my nerves was Mrs Hargrove’s, which was melodious and surprisingly rich, making our own voices sound even worse. I hadn’t realised she could sing. The woman was a constant surprise. Just like my Marcie. Shit! My Marcie? What the hell?
Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the moment at hand. Mrs Hargrove began cutting up the cake. I smirked as I watched her in her element. An elderly woman whose family had long since grown up and flown the nest, she had been lonely in her retirement and, like me, badly in need of a distraction. Unfortunately, mine was not so easily found. She was Derrick’s neighbour, and he had introduced us when I’d told him I was looking for someone to help around the office part-time. I’d taken to her immediately, and she’d fitted in with the men nicely, taking on a grandmotherly role and filling the void of a woman in the life of most.
“Cake’s up, everyone,” she said, moving to the side as the guys descended upon the table like a pack of vultures.
“Plates, boys,” Mrs Hargrove shouted sternly, but her eyes sparked with amusement and glinted with pride as they all rushed to grab a plate from the pile to please her.
My lips twitched as I bit back my laugh at the chastised expressions and mumbled apologies sent her way before they once again focused on demolishing their share of the cake.
“Coffee or tea?” she asked each of them, filling their orders with practiced efficiency as they filed past her, accepting their cup before heading back for yet more cake.
Derrick sniggered. “Thank god I brought extra,” he said, pointing to the second box perched at the other end of the table.
“Best grab some while we can,” I replied with a smirk.
As I moved toward the table, I grabbed a couple of plates, putting a slice of cake on each before stepping closer to Mrs Hargrove.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” I replied. “I grabbed you a piece of cake before the riff-raff scoff it all,” I told her.
She smiled. “You’re a good boy, Anton,” she said, tapping me on the hand, and I grinned at the praise. Hearing her call me ‘boy’ always made me feel like one. Mrs Hargrove had a way about her that reduced all these hardened military men on my team to little boys begging for their granny’s favour. Not for the first time, I was glad I’d hired the woman as I watched them interact with her. Many of the men who worked for me bore scars from their past, just like I did, and the elderly lady brought a sense of calm and care to their lives that, without her, many would not know.
My gaze swept around the room, and for the first time in months, a genuine smile crept onto my face. These were my family. Like my Bratva Blood Brothers, these men were the family I had chosen. The chatter grew louder as the guys ate, but a thought lingered in the back of my mind. At some point, I’d let each of these men into my heart. So why was it so hard to do the same with Marcie? If I could trust them, why not her?
I always focused on the women I’d lost in life, but I’d lost men, too. Good men. Friends. But it wasn’t quite the same. Because even with my Bratva Blood Brothers, a little bit of my heart had always been held back. But not with Louisa, not with Elaine, and if I wasn’t careful, not with Marcie either. And that was the issue. I couldn’t take that level of devastation again.
As my thoughts turned broody once more, snippets of conversation drifted to me, my focus flickering back to Derrick and Nick, who had stepped a little apart from the group. I hadn’t meant to overhear, but my attention snapped back when I caught Marcie’s name.
“She’s nervous. She hasn’t dated anyone since her stalker. Of course, she hadn’t wanted to, not when she was obsessed with Anton. But since he’s made it clear he doesn’t want her, she finally decided it was time,” Derrick was saying, his voice low but just loud enough for me to hear, though I didn’t think he realised.
My blood ran cold, and I froze with my coffee cup halfway to my lips.
“What’s he like?” Nick asked.
“He seems like a decent enough guy, but time will tell. Still, he doesn’t need to be Mr Right, he just needs to be Mr Right Now. Anyone will do, really—just to help her get over her crush on a certain sexy soldier boy,” he said, the amusement clear in his voice before he grew serious again. “She needs to do this for her own sanity. Obsessing over Anton isn’t healthy.”
My chest tightened, a dull ache radiating from somewhere deep inside as Derrick’s words settled over me. She’s moving on? Seeing someone else? I only had myself to blame. I’d pushed her away, kept her at arm’s length, told myself it was for the best—for her safety, her happiness, even her sanity. But hearing about it now, that some other man might be the one making her laugh, filling the space in her life I should have claimed, felt like a punch to the gut.
Nick nodded . “So, when’s she seeing the guy?”
The mention of a “guy” and Marcie in the same sentence made my jaw tighten, and bile rose in my throat. I kept my back to them, pretending to listen to the guys I was standing with while straining to hear more of their conversation.
“Tomorrow night,” Derrick responded, and my heart sank. Confirmation that Marcie was indeed attempting to move on should’ve made me pleased, but instead, it threatened to tear me apart.
Tomorrow night—the words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“And you think she’ll go through with it this time?” Nick asked sceptically. “She didn’t the last time she’d planned a date.”
“I know,” Derrick replied, his voice quieter. “But I think she might this time. She’s been talking to him on the phone. I think she wants to see where it goes.”
My grip on the coffee cup tightened, as my mind flashed to Marcie, the way her eyes softened when she looked at me, and the electric tension that sparked between us.
Turning quickly, I stepped closer to Derrick.
“Who is this guy?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, the words slipping out before I could rein them in.
Derrick glanced at me, his expression cautious but amused, as if he could see the faint flicker of jealousy in my eyes despite how hard I tried to keep it from showing in my voice.
“I don’t know much about him. Just that he’s someone she met through her work. But she seems to like him.”
My gut churned as a dozen questions swirled inside my head, none of them making it to my lips. Could she really move on from me? That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? So, why was the little voice in my head screaming No ?
I wanted to scream it out loud, but instead, I forced myself to speak, my voice cool despite the storm raging inside me. “What’s his name?”
Derrick shrugged. “Don’t know. She didn’t say. She’s keeping it low-key for now. You know how she is.”
I didn’t know how she was. Not anymore. And that thought twisted something deep inside me. She was slipping away, moving on, and I couldn’t—and doubted—I ever would.
“She met him through work, you said?” Nick smirked, noticing my jealousy, more in tune with the rising tension inside me than Derrick was.
Derrick’s gaze narrowed as I continued.
“That’s how she got her bloody stalker in the first place,” I practically shouted at him.
“I’m well aware of that, Anton. I had her hire you as a bodyguard, remember? But that guy is still in jail, and she can’t go around worrying that every man she meets is a potential stalker.”
I went to speak, but he held up his hand, cutting me off before I could.
“Don’t interfere. You can’t refuse to get involved with her one minute, then interfere in her life the next. She needs to get over you, and you need to let her,” he said, his voice barely controlled with fury.
I set the coffee cup down, my hands momentarily shaking.
“Right. You’re right, Derrick.” I forced the words out, though it pained me to say them.
Without another word, I turned and walked back toward my office, my stomach churning and my mind whirling.
Tomorrow night. A date . I closed my eyes, fighting to calm my breathing. The thought kept playing in my mind, making my blood boil, even as I tried to ignore it. Derrick was correct. I shouldn’t interfere. I had no right. Marcie was free to do what she wanted. See whomever she pleased.
So why did my inner voice scream, “No fucking way!”
Damn it! I was a mess. Confused, frustrated, and downright contradictory.
A knock on my door brought me out of my musings.
“Come in,” I called, and the door creaked open.
“I brought you another cup of coffee. Thought you could use it,” she said, setting the cup down in front of me.
“You’re looking a bit forlorn. Is it about Marcie?” she asked, her voice low and warm as she took the seat across from me.
“Just a lot on my mind, Mrs Hargrove,” I replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “You know how it is.”
She frowned, narrowing her eyes in that way she did when she was concerned. “Alright, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But it’s been my experience that when you feel strongly about someone, like you obviously do with that young woman, you’d be a fool to let fear hold you back. Love doesn’t come around often, and when it does, it can be the most wonderful thing life has to offer. And the most terrifying.”
Love. I’d always known deep down that I could easily fall in love with Marcie if I let myself, and that was the issue. I didn’t want to let that happen.
Mrs Hargrove continued. “My Joe was the nervous sort when we met. I was dating someone else at the time, but he found the courage to ask me out. To this day, I’m so glad he did. We had forty wonderful years together and three children. If he hadn’t faced his fears, we’d never have known that kind of happiness.” She smiled wistfully, her expression a mixture of joy and sadness.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I know what you’re trying to say, but it’s complicated.”
“Complicated or not, it’s important to let people in, Anton. You can’t keep shutting people out, especially someone you obviously care so much about.”
Her words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit. I looked away, my gaze dropping to the floor. “I can’t risk losing anyone else, Mrs Hargrove. It’s safer this way.”
“Safer? Or lonelier?” she countered. “Life’s about taking risks. If you keep pushing Marcie away, you’ll never really live.”
I picked up my mug, watching the steam swirl. “I know what I’m doing. It’s for the best.”
“Is it?” she asked gently, taking a seat across from me. “You can’t build a future on fear.”
Her words stretched into the silence, heavy and undeniable. I sat there, staring into my mug. She was right, but confronting that truth would mean facing the demons I’d buried so deep. I wasn’t ready for that.
“I’ll think about it,” I said quietly.
She smiled and stood to leave. “Don’t lose the one thing that could bring true joy to your life, Anton, just because you fear what might happen. I know you’ve lost a lot, but you can’t let that stop you from loving again. Life’s unpredictable. You need to live in the here and now, or you’re just existing—and that would be a waste.”
I nodded, her words sinking in as she slipped silently out the door. I leaned back in my chair, lost in thought. The ache for Marcie mingled with the fear of what might happen if I let her in.
My mind bombarded me with relentless if onlys and what ifs. Eventually, I rose to my feet. Hiding here wasn’t solving anything, and the Rominovs were counting on me to be at the fight tonight. With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself to my car and headed home to change.
Marcie was going on a date, meeting someone who didn’t carry the scars and baggage I did. She was trying to move on, and I’d handed her every reason to do so.
But was that really what I wanted?
Finally, the answer hit me hard. No. I wanted her. I needed her. The thought of her with someone else was unbearable. Suddenly, I realised the fight tonight wouldn’t come close to matching the one raging inside me.
Mrs Hargrove’s words echoed in my mind: “You need to live in the here and now, or you’re just existing—and that would be a waste.”
Clarity followed. Before Marcie slipped away completely, I had to act. I needed to tell her what I felt—no more games, no more hiding behind my fears. It was time to confront the truth. At the very least, I owed her answers, an explanation for everything, and a chance to see if we could work it out—together. Maybe she wouldn’t want me once she knew the depths of my issues. And I still wasn’t sure if I could get past them. But I had to try. If it wasn’t already too late.