Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Baptism Of Fire
Sophia
I step into the elevator catching a glimpse of my red, puffy eyes and lips, swollen from me nervously biting them.
I touch them, and tears prickle again at the reminder that the last time they felt like this was only a few nights ago in the DJ booth with him.
Fucking hell, how could I have been so stupid.
I know I was the one who pushed him away, but honestly, I didn’t believe he’d go and hook up with someone.
And certainly not the very next day. I’m officially done with Operation: Office Makeover for the day.
I just want to go home, curl up on the couch with a big piece of cake and a cup of coffee, and binge-watch Scandal.
Salacious drama that’s not mine. Operation: Forget Marco Fucking Marrone.
Yet I’m clutching my phone, hanging onto hope of even one text back from him.
It’s been over thirty minutes since the blog blast and the little message receipt icon remains grayed out.
He hasn’t read it. He’s probably too busy fucking the gorgeous brunette in her fuck-me boots.
Images of them tangled together in a big bed, sheets mussed from sex, play out in my mind unbidden.
I know exactly how talented that man’s mouth, tongue, and fingers are.
I run my fingers under my eyes and stretch my cheeks upwards to de-puff my face before the elevator completes its descent from the twenty-third floor to the ground floor.
It doesn’t help, but it’s not like there’s many people in today anyway.
The elevator dings, and when the door opens, I come face-to-face with the last person I want to see right now—maybe ever.
Marco looks like a dangerous wet dream in a tailored black suit that his frame fills out to perfection.
Strong, dependable shoulders, tapering into a narrow waist and leading down to long, muscular legs and the impressive.
..situation between them, the phantom of how big and hard he felt pressed against my back still lingering on my skin.
I blink to clear the memory and stay focused on the truth: I was just another number in a long line of conquests.
The other woman hasn’t seen me yet, preoccupied by whatever she’s doing on her phone.
Marco’s assessing eyes flare in confusion and concern as they catalogue every inch of my tear-swollen face and my icy body language.
He’s carrying his black coat over his right arm, making his bicep pop and pulling the fabric slightly.
His other hand is resting on the back of his gorgeous new fuck buddy, who’s standing slightly in front of him.
All cute couple like. Flashbacks of those big strong hands gripping my ass while he bent me over the DJ decks and made me see stars play like a home movie.
Unfiltered. And most unwelcome. I’m too young for hot flashes, but right now I’m sure I could burst into flames.
Marco instinctively reaches for me with the arm carrying his coat, but I step out of the elevator and away from his reach.
He rears his head back slightly, puzzled by the animosity radiating from me.
Before either of us can speak, a squeal pierces the silence.
“Look how good this pic turned out! All the colors work so well on my grid.” The attempt to happy dance in excitement at whatever she’s posted almost sends her tumbling to the ground, but Marco’s strong hands right her in time like the protective…what is he to her?
Fuck buddy? Lover? Boyfriend?
“These fucking boots! Man trap? Yes. Death trap? Also yes,” she says looking at him for a reaction, and instead realizing his attention is firmly trained on me.
“Oh! Hi, sorry I totally didn’t notice you there.” She looks from him to me as the silence stretches. “Marco, are you going to introduce me!” she exclaims with far too much exuberance.
The elevator dings, indicating it’s closed behind us.
Before speaking, Marco lifts his eyebrow, questioning my ice-cold reception. I glare back haughtily. A dare to fuck around and find out.