Chapter 11
(Marcus POV)
The photo seared itself into me. Not just her body, though Christ, that was enough to ruin any man, hips arched, skin bare, her hand between her thighs like she was already mine.It was the words.
Thinking of you.
I stared at them until the screen blurred. My thumb hovered over the keyboard, typing and erasing, typing again.
Don’t stop. You’re out of control. So am I.
None of it was right. None of it was true. I wanted control. I needed control. But staring at her like that, wanting me, offering herself to me. I had none.
I deleted everything and left the only word I could manage.
MINE.
It looked brutal on the screen. Possessive. Wrong. But it was honest.
I threw the phone down, dragged both hands through my hair, pacing the length of the office like the walls might crack if I didn’t keep moving. Bourbon sat untouched on the desk. Paperwork lay half-finished. None of it mattered anymore.
She was in my head. Under my skin. Her laugh in the courtyard, her defiance in the office, her lips swollen from the kiss I should’ve never taken. Now this, claiming me with her body before I’d even touched her.
My daughter’s face flickered in my mind. Emma at twenty-one, too young, too trusting, chasing a man I didn’t approve of. And here I was, worse. Twice as old as Aria, twice as damned.
I leaned on the desk, knuckles white. “What the hell are you doing, Marcus?”
I’d built my entire life on discipline. On doing what was right for the vineyard, for my family, for our legacy. But one girl, the wrong girl, and I was ready to throw it all into the fire.
The phone buzzed again. I snatched it up like it might vanish. Not another photo. Not a word. Just the read receipt. She’d seen it. My claim.
And she hadn’t run.
That was the part that wrecked me most of all.
I poured the bourbon, swallowed it down, but the burn couldn’t touch the fire already in me. Because for the first time in years, I didn’t trust myself. Not around her. Not around that phone.
I told myself I could hold the line. But God help me, if she pushed again, if she sent one more picture, I knew I wouldn’t.
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(Aria POV)
The argument started in Marcus’s office. It was loud enough to hear past his walls.
He stood behind his desk, phone pressed to his ear, jaw set tight. “Tell them I’ll be there tomorrow. No, I don’t care what the distributor says, he sees me in person, or he doesn’t get another bottle. Is that clear?”
He hung up, eyes dark as he stared at the ledger, like the numbers themselves had betrayed him.
“What happened?” I asked, hovering in the doorway.
“Distributor dispute in Santa Rosa,” he said. “Orders doubled, paperwork doesn’t match, and if I don’t fix it, half our shipments stall.”
“Sounds… messy.”
“Messy costs money,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’ll drive up tonight, meet them first thing in the morning.”
The thought of him gone, without me, pinched something sharp in my chest.
“Take me with you,” I blurted.
His head snapped up. “No.”
“Yes,” I pressed. “If Dad wants me to learn the business, then let me learn. I’ll stay quiet. I’ll just observe.”
“Observe what?” Dad’s voice filled the room.
Marcus didn’t flinch. “Distributor issue. Santa Rosa. I’ll handle it.”
Dad frowned, his gaze flicking to me. “You’re not dragging her into that mess.”
“I should,” Marcus said smoothly. “She needs exposure to the business side, not just tasting room scraps.”
I stepped forward, my heart hammering. “Dad, if you want me to understand this world, I need to see it. Not just sweep the floors and rewrite the chalkboards. If Marcus thinks I should go…”
Dad’s jaw worked. He turned to Marcus. “How would this even work, where would she stay? I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Marcus’s answer came without hesitation. “Two rooms. Same floor. She’ll be in my sight, but not in my space.” His eyes met my father’s evenly, his voice level. “Strictly professional.”
The silence stretched, thick as fermenting grapes.
Finally, Dad exhaled through his nose, muttering. “Fine. But I’m trusting you to watch over her.”
Marcus inclined his head once. “Always.”
The word was meant for Dad. But it landed in me instead, low, dangerous, like a promise he had no right to make.
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(Aria POV)
The miles slid by in silence.
Marcus drove like he did everything, focused, steady, no wasted movement. One hand on the wheel, the other braced on the gearshift, forearm flexing with each turn.
I’d meant to bring notes, pretend this was purely business, but the folder lay unopened in my lap. All I could think about was the hotel. Two rooms. Same floor. His voice when he’d told Dad, strictly professional.
Strict was the last thing I felt, watching the way sunlight caught in his hair, the curve of his jaw, the roughness in his throat when he cleared it.
“You’re too quiet,” he said finally.
“I thought you liked me quiet,” I shot back.
His mouth twitched. “Not in a car for three hours.”
I stared out the window, hiding my smile. “What do you want me to say?”
“Something useful,” he said, but his voice had gone low, like even he wasn’t sure he meant it.
I leaned forward, stretching behind his seat to grab my tote. The hem of my sundress slid up, baring the curve of my ass. He made a low sound in his throat, rough and involuntary, and for a second the car drifted just enough that he had to tighten his grip on the wheel.
I straightened, tote in hand, pretending not to notice. “Here’s a useful subject,” I said brightly, pulling out the lotion. “You can never have enough in this heat. The air just sucks it right into your skin.”
I squeezed some into my palm, slow, deliberate. Then I started rubbing it into my legs, up and up, as high as I could go. My skin glistened, the scent of coconut filling the cab. His jaw ticked, eyes locked forward, but his forearm flexed harder around the gearshift.
“You’re going to kill us,” he muttered.
I smiled, sliding my hand higher, tracing circles into my thigh. “Speaking of essentials… I went shopping last week. Cutest bra was on sale.” I leaned closer, voice dropping. “Want to see it?”
“Absolutely not.” His tone was gravel, sharp with strain.
I tugged the neckline of my dress just enough to flash red silk. He jerked, the car swerving half a foot before he wrestled it straight again.
“Aria!” His voice was hoarse, furious and frayed at once.
I laughed, leaning back in my seat like it was nothing. “Relax, Mr. Hale. Eyes on the road.”
His hand strangled the wheel. “No more talking,” he growled. “Radio. Now.”
But the way his voice cracked told me all I needed to know.
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(Marcus POV)
Three hours. I’d driven tankers through storms that were easier than this.
She bent over behind my seat and I caught a flash of her ass, bare under that flimsy sundress. The wheel jerked in my hands before I wrestled it straight, pulse hammering like I’d been clipped in a firefight.
And then she sat there like nothing happened.
Like she hadn’t just made me picture yanking that dress up the rest of the way.
Lotion. Of all things, she pulled out lotion.
Coconut-scented, slick, her hands gliding up her legs slowly and deliberate.
Higher. Higher. I tightened my grip on the gearshift until it hurt.
Then she said it…cutest bra on sale. My knuckles went white. Absolutely not, I bit out, because if she showed me…
She showed me anyway. A flash of red silk, quick as a knife, and the car lurched half a foot before I yanked it back under control.
She just laughed. Laughed, while my cock strained so hard against my jeans I couldn’t think straight.
No more talking, I told her. No more games. But the truth? I was ruined. The smell of coconut filled the cab, her thighs gleamed in the corner of my eye, and every mile felt like I was dragging myself through fire barefoot.
By the time we pulled into the hotel lot, my jaw ached from clenching. My cock was a hammering pulse in my lap, desperate, unrelenting. She slid out of the truck light as air, sundress swishing, red silk burned into my vision.
I sat there an extra minute with the engine ticking down, fists locked on the wheel, because if I moved too soon, she’d see it. See what she’d done to me.
And God help me, if she smiled at me one more time like she’d already won, I might not make it up the stairs before taking her against the nearest wall.