36. Lauren
36
Lauren
My humming ceases as I rap on the office door, hear the soft command to enter, then stick my head through the office door. “Hey, do you have a minute?”
Colin doesn’t even glance up from whatever he’s doing on his laptop. “Sure.”
I’m in too good of a mood to let that icy tone affect me. I step inside, immediately noticing he’d moved the chairs and placed them by the floor-to-ceiling window. Weird. It’s his office, so I won’t ask. Instead, I pull up a chair around his desk and take a seat.
All this time, he still hasn’t looked at me.
“Colin, am I interrupting? I could always come back.”
“No.” His eyes linger on the screen for another beat, and then he shifts his gaze to me.
I relax, surprised by the warmth within those green depths. “I wanted to discuss that email you sent Finance.”
His brows slightly lift. “The expense report?”
“Yes. Are you aware that—”
“You’re the boss, but I don’t understand why they sent it to you. Is that protocol?” he asks, his frown deepening.
“It’s not unusual, especially if there’s an anomaly they think I should be aware of. For instance, you’re still on probation for at least another two months. You’re not entitled to lease a company car until then.”
He nods slightly.
“I don’t understand why you want a company vehicle, anyway. Don’t you own a car?”
Again, he nods, but then adds, “I wanted a four-wheel drive.”
“I see. Well, try again in two months.”
“Noted and understood,” he says with a polite smile, twisting the pen between his fingers. “Is that all?”
I open my mouth to say, “Yes,” but seeing the coolness now settling in his eyes, it prompts me to ask, “Is everything okay?”
“Perfect,” he replies stiffly. “Can you close the door on the way out? Thanks.”
Taking the hint, I rise from the chair. His attention is already locked on what he’s doing, shutting me out. I don’t need to ponder long and hard on the reason behind his cold behavior. With a scoff, I close his office door. I don’t understand why he’s being so aloof when I did nothing to lead him on.
Men . They’re something else.
As I enter my office, the sound of an alarm urges me forward. Shit! Where did the time go? I grab the phone off my desk and cut the sound then get my bag from the bottom drawer. Within a minute, I’m out the door, making a quick journey to the underground garage.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I greet as I slide onto the passenger seat. “Rough day.” One that’s about to get worse.
“It has been barely five minutes,” Marcus replies cheerfully. “No worries. ”
I fasten my seatbelt as he puts his SUV in drive. “Thanks for doing this.”
“No need to thank me. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
“Still, I took you away from your work—”
“Shh—” he hisses sharply, though his expression remains pleasant. “You say the word, and I’ll come running. Always .”
I’ve been hearing these words for as long as I can remember. However, they carry a new meaning after what we shared last night. A new reaction, too. Pleasant flutters go off in my stomach, and I hold back a smile as we cruise out of the parking lot of Cain Industries.
My cellphone beeps, and I wince at Mom’s text message. Honey, can you free your schedule for the rest of the afternoon?
To date, Marcus and Zyon are the only ones who know about my medical issue, due to them being least likely to overreact. I want so badly to tell the others, but my tolerance level can’t handle their drama.
Biting my lip, I type back. I’m getting ready for a meeting; what’s up?
Mom: Wanted to go dress shopping. A friend of a friend got me a last minute consult with a luxury designer.
Oh, would’ve loved that. Since I moved out, Mom and I have barely spent time together. She hasn’t quite kicked off her wedding plans, but I feel bad for not checking in with her more.
Me: I’m so sorry I can’t make it. Book me for the next consult, will you?
Mom: Will do, sweetheart. Go kick ass in your meeting. I love you.
I tuck the phone in the center console and lean back with a sigh.
“You okay?” Marcus asks, shifting his focus from the road for a split second. I shake my head.
“Scared?” he presses.
“Not yet,” I reply, knowing what exactly he’s referring to. “We’re only doing step one today. There’s no invasion. ”
“Okay…” There’s a brief pause as he navigates steering onto the soft shoulder to make way for an ambulance. Getting back onto the road, he asks, “So, what’s bothering you?”
“I haven’t told Gabriel and my parents about this.”
Marcus sighs. “I figured as much. Lauren, I try my best not to push you like they do, but the more you delay, the worse things will be.”
“I know. It just hit me when I read this text message from Mom. I would’ve loved to have her comforting me today.”
Phase one of freezing my eggs won’t cause me any pain, but it would’ve been nice to have Mom there, just to hold my hand through my discussion with Dr. Lewis. I don’t want to do this entire procedure alone.
“I’ll comfort you,” he offers casually.
I snort.
“What?”
“I’m not sure it’s wise to have any physical contact between us,” I reply. “Especially after…”
After we swore it would only happen once.
He catches my meaning and nods, but then replies. “I don’t see why we can’t touch.”
“You can’t be serious,” I scoff. Less than twenty-four hours since I gave my virginity to Marcus, and I’m already struggling with that one-and-done vow. I don’t know how I’d handle him touching me.
Marcus remains silent for a while, then mutters, “I don’t see how last night is connected to me comforting you. I’ve been doing that for years, and we didn’t have sex.”
His answer shouldn’t surprise me. It shouldn’t hurt me either. I knew last night held no deep meaning for him. It didn’t affect him like it did me. He certainly hasn’t spent a restless night reliving every single moment, tossing and turning, aching for more. He has probably moved on to adding a fresh notch to his belt, our moment already forgotten.
I have no business entertaining this searing pain when I knew what I’d signed up for.
“Hello, hello, hello,” he calls out to me.
“What?”
“It requires an answer.”
“They’re not connected,” I reply quickly. I don’t want him to think I’m hung up on the sex. If he’s not affected by it, neither am I. “You can hold my hand.”
He seems pleased with my response but says nothing more. I lean toward his entertainment system, and the sound of Miley Cyrus’ ‘Angels Like You’ floats through the speakers. I reach out to switch to the next song on the playlist. I don’t need an emotional reminder of how unequally yoked we are.
As I attempt to press the arrow, a number pops up on the screen, and I mistakenly press the answer button.
“Marcus?” a female voice fills the car. Marcus stiffens in his seat.
“Can I call you back?” he replies quickly. Without waiting for a response, he ends the call.
Okay… is that the next potential notch on his belt?
I don’t care.
A heavy lump settles in my throat.
I really don’t care.
We get to Dr. Lewis’ office in awkward silence, and I hurry out of the car when he reverses in the parking spot.
“Really, Lauren?” he calls out.
I slam the door and walk to the sidewalk as he emerges from his seat. “I’m perfectly capable of opening my own door. See?”
Flashing him a forced smile, I push the doctor’s office door open .
Behind me, he mutters a response I don’t make out, but I suspect he’s annoyed I didn’t let him get this door either. He falls in line and stays with me while I give my name to the receptionist at the front. She points me toward Dr. Lewis’ office right away.
“Do you want me in there with you?” Marcus asks.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say no, but instead, I nod. My petty feelings aren’t important right now. I need moral support in there.
What I don’t need is his hand on my back, guiding me forward. I gently shrug him off, and he gets the message right away. A slight hardening of his jaw tells me he’s not pleased.
Yeah, neither am I, buddy.
Dr. Lewis glances up with a smile as we enter. Her expression switches to mild curiosity, and I notice she’s staring right at Marcus. I introduce him as a family friend, and the curious look instantly fades away. For some reason, it makes me feel sad. I’d much rather be having this meeting with my lover beside me.
Although, if Marcus was my lover, I wouldn’t need to freeze my eggs.
She gets right down to business, outlining the timeline of the entire procedure, after which she dispenses a packet of birth control pills with strict instructions to take them on time.
“I’m going to set another appointment for two weeks from now,” she goes on. “When you get back, we’ll proceed to the daily injectable hormone medication.”
Needles . I blow out a concerned breath. Marcus slips his fingers through mine, giving my hand a squeeze. I’m too anxious to even pull away. All I can think of are those sharp things poking my skin.
“It won’t be a painful process, I assure you,” Dr. Lewis says, reading the anxiety on my face. She scribbles something on a notepad, tears the page, and hands it to me. “Give this to the nurse out front. ”
Marcus’ hand slips around my waist as we walk out. This time, I don’t shrug him off. Though simple, that meeting brought back an awareness I’d been keeping at bay for the sake of not losing my mind. Now, there’s no escaping the fact that, within a month, I’ll be put under.
“Relax,” Marcus soothes me, gently squeezing my side. “You’ll get through this. You’re not alone.”
“I know.” My family might be a pain in the ass, but there’s no doubt they’ll coming running in a heartbeat if the going gets really tough. It’s time to call a family meeting and let them in.
Marcus squeezes me again. Whether thick or thin, I know he’ll be right there too.
“Take me home,” I say to him as he gets in the driver’s seat. I’m suddenly in no mood to return to work.
Marcus nods then turns the radio on before pulling out. I notice he doesn’t connect his phone to the car this time. It shouldn’t bother me. I try to distract myself from the jealousy-evoking thoughts by setting a nightly reminder for the next two weeks. Otherwise, I won’t remember to take those birth control pills.
The heavy beat of the music fills the silence as we make our way through the busy Manhattan streets. Marcus’ eyes are locked on the road, but I can tell when he’s thinking hard. What’s on his mind? Is he thinking about that woman who called? Is that why he’s driving so fast, wanting to drop me home to get to her?
Ugh . I hate this feeling. Sharp, stinging, painful, spreading across my chest. It’s hard to breathe. I press my hand right there, inhaling deeply.
“You okay?”
I wish he would stop asking me that. No! I’m not okay! I’m doing the exact thing I promised myself I wouldn’t do!
Out loud, I mutter, “I’m just tired. ”
“Perfect timing,” he replies, slowing down as he turns onto my street. He slides me a smile, and I force one back.
As the car slows down in front of the townhouse, I reach for the handle. “Don’t you dare open that door,” Marcus mumbles threateningly.
Scoffing, I open it anyway and get out. With my feet pressing into the concrete pavement, I hurry toward my front door. He catches up to me as I climb the front steps.
“You’re working really hard for a spanking,” he says, taking my arm.
I see a few of my neighbors outside doing their business. Not wanting to make a scene, I allow him to guide me up the steps before I enter my security code. The minute we get inside, I move away from him.
“Stop babying me, Marcus. I’m over it,” I mutter wearily, yanking off my jacket. “Do what you have to do and leave me in peace.”
By that, I mean he should go do the pointless work of checking that every window and door is secured before leaving. I’m sure that woman is waiting on pins and needles for him to call her back.
My brows shoot up as Marcus removes his jacket. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Staying,” he replies simply, hanging the jacket on the rack. “At least until Andrew gets here.”
A snort flies from my nose so hard and fast, it leaves a slight sting. “No, you’re not.”
He gives me a patient smile while stepping from his shoes. I swallow.
“Marcus, you’re not staying.” I intend to sound firm, but my voice comes out in a croak as he closes the gap between us.
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t,” he mutters, looking down at me.
There’s someone waiting for you , I want to say, but that would only make me sound like a jealous lover, which is far from the truth. I’m not jealous and I’m not his lover. We’re just friends pretending we didn’t share parts of our bodies with each other last night. Well, Marcus is pretending. I can’t stop thinking about it.
Which is why he can’t be here.
My body is already aching with need from his proximity to me. He’s not even touching me. He’s staring, waiting for my answer. An answer I can’t give.
“I’m staying,” he finally says. “You’ve had a rough day, and I’m not leaving until your mind is at ease.
Which won’t ever happen once you’re around. “Marcus—”
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he interjects softly. “I’m going to run you a bath. You’re going to get in it. While you relax, I’m going to fix you some chicken soup. I’ll rub your feet—”
“No.” I back up, trying to ignore my body’s reaction to those words. This isn’t like the old times when he’d randomly grab my feet while we were hanging out on the couch watching TV. Unlike back then, I can’t shut out the feelings that will be triggered by his touch. Despite knowing he’s wrong for me, that we should not be doing this, I’m positive Marcus and I will be fucking tonight if he puts his hands on me.
Again, that patient smile. He really does know me better than almost anyone.
With a conceding sigh, I drop my arms. “Fine. You can run my bath, but that’s it. No feet rubbing.”
“No chicken soup?” he asks, eyes gleaming from a mischievous smirk.
I tilt my chin. “Yes, I’ll have some chicken soup,” I reply, sounding a little haughty.
His soft chuckle follows me up the stairs. My apartment is large enough to hold the two of us, but I don’t trust myself to undress while he’s in there. So, I patiently wait in the hall while Marcus does his business. After a few minutes, he emerges with a confused look .
“What are you doing standing out here?” he asks.
“Are you done?” I counter.
Something passes over his face, an awareness that makes him smile. He says nothing else, just nods and makes his way back downstairs.
Breathing out a sigh, I head inside. The powerful scents of lavender and eucalyptus hit my nostrils, and I sigh again, this time with a smile, one that disappears within a second. I hate that Marcus knows my love languages.
I get undressed, toss my clothes in the laundry hamper, then sink my body in the tub.
Oh, my God. Heaven.
The mixture of warmth, floral, and mint soothes the tension from today. In this moment, I’m not bothered by Colin’s weird behavior or Marcus’ potential hookup for tonight. I tuck them to the back of my mind and finally relax.
Until the water gets cold.
The sound of music fills the hallway as I leave the room. Reflexively, I tighten the robe around me. Sugary-sweet, contemporary love songs are my weakness, and Marcus is well aware of my love for Boys 2 Men . Still, I’m going to assume that their hit ‘ I’ll make love to you’ currently wafting through the surround speakers is merely a co-incidence and not him trying to seduce me. Not after we agreed on one and done.
He glances up from around the stove, beaming as I approach. “Someone looks brand new,” he comments.
“I feel much better,” I reply, peering down into the pot from which he’s spooning the contents into a bowl. “And starving.”
“You have impeccable timing, as usual.” He jerks his head toward the stool around the breakfast bar. “Have a seat.”
Instantly, I move to sit, and he rests the bowl in front of me then sits on my other side. My eyes flutters shut at the first taste, and I release a satisfying moan. “You’ve outdone yourself, Marcus,” I comment, my eyes opening again, catching his hungry stare.
He’s not looking at the bowl. His eyes are on me.
“What?” I ask.
For a moment, there’s no response, though I don’t need one. I already know the answer. It’s stamped across his face. His throat works as he swallows, and my eyes follow the slow-motion bounce of his Adam’s apple.
“I’m selfish as fuck, Lauren. A part of me regrets making that vow,” he whispers.
A queasy sensation dances in my belly. I put the spoon down, breathing softly. The bar stool scrapes over the tiles as he drags himself toward me, combing his fingers through my damp hair. I can’t resist leaning my face into his palm, nuzzling it. Arousal settles between my thighs.
“You really are too good for me, and I don’t deserve to have you again,” he whispers. “Which is why I should go. Yet, I don’t have the power to take a step toward that door.”
My head pulls back, and I look at him, right into those eyes now a shade of light green, eyes still filled with hunger for me. There’s also a desperate plea within those beautiful depths. He wants me to stop him from making another mistake.
Yes, sleeping with him would be a mistake. I shouldn’t be giving myself to a man who wants nothing more than sex, especially if that man is my brother’s best friend.
If only I was like Marcus, able to fuck around then forget the person I intimately shared myself with. If only I could move on to the next and repeat the cycle. I’m not designed that way. I want to give myself to one man, and I’d prefer if he only wanted me.
But how do I walk away when that ‘one man’ is Marcus Brady ?
“Tell me to leave, Lauren,” he whispers, both hands now clasping my cheeks.
It’s right here on my tongue, but the words refuse to emerge. My body’s needs are more powerful, blocking my commonsense from doing its job. Make him go. No good will come from sleeping with him again.
His ragged breath drags over my lips, his attention focused right there. “Please.”
That one word. It’s so ambiguous. At this point, I don’t know if he’s begging me to banish him or make him stay. The lust is heavy in that whispered plea, rivaling mine. My hands move to his sides, and I grip him there, whispering back, “Stay.”
The word barely leaves mouth, and he’s on me, seizing my lips, kissing me like I’m a drink of water and he has been trekking the Sahara for several days. It’s consuming, wild and desperate, matching exactly what I feel. Less than twenty-four hours since we last had sex, and I’m already dying to have him inside me again.
He pulls away, breathing heavily, staring at me wildly. For a moment, I expect to hear his voice of reason bust in, but instead, he swoops me up. My legs wrap around his waist as he makes the short journey to the living room couch. With his arms still around me, he sits, and I straddle him.
Marcus clasps my cheeks, staring deep into my eyes. “I don’t know what the fuck you did to me, Lauren, but it feels good.”
Be still, my beating heart . “You can’t say those things.”
He sighs. “I know. We’re just having fun—”
“Yes, fun. So you can’t get all deep with me. That’s unfair.”
“I’m sorry.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I’m going to try and remember that.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask. “Are you saying you want more of this? ”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. The fact that we shouldn’t even be messing around makes me not want to decide anything. How about we take things one step at a time?”
His thumb caresses my cheek as I hesitate to answer. “It’s your call, Lauren.”
I can still feel his cock pressed between my thighs, making me ache even more. Commonsense is never active when I’m horny, and I’m not thinking straight right now. I just want to come. The consequences can wait.
Easing off Marcus, I remove the robe, and he quickly eases himself up, yanking his pants and boxers down his legs. He snaps his fingers as something occurs to him then leans down to fish his wallet from the pocket. A cloud forms over his face after opening it.
“I’m out of condoms,” he mutters.
For an instant, I assume he’s pulling my leg. Peering inside, my heart sinks when I realize it’s not a lie.
“Shit.” Marcus looks as devastated as I feel. “I could run to the pharmacy,” he suddenly offers, hopeful.
He could, but the moment would be lost. My conscience will start working again. In fact, it’s already coming alive. “No. Maybe it’s a sign,” I reply, picking up my robe from the floor.
“A sign for what?”
“That we shouldn’t be doing this, Marcus. I shouldn’t be sleeping with a guy who’s so sexually active that he can’t keep up with the condoms in his wallet.”
He suddenly laughs, and I glare at him. “What’s so funny?”
“The fact that you think I’m out of condoms because I’m busy getting laid. Lauren, I’ve only been with one woman in the last month.”
Only one? That’s impossible.
“That one woman is you. ”
Silence. In the room, that is. Deep inside me, there’s a party going on. The honesty in his eyes makes me want to do a happy jig. Instead, I shrug calmly. “That’s nice.”
“Nice?” He steps right in front of me. “There’s nothing nice about being immune to every other woman but the one you have no business being with.”
I pant.
“There’s nothing nice about feeling like an asshole every time I touch you, knowing I don’t even deserve to share the same air you breathe.”
“Oh, Marcus.”
He grips the back of my head. Our panting breaths swirl together. “There’s nothing nice about wanting to damage every man who lays their eyes on you, knowing I can’t offer you anything better than they can. It’s agony, Lauren, not wanting to want you.”
I know exactly what he means. My hands clasp his elbows, and I whisper against his mouth, “Let’s share that agony, Marcus. Right here, right now. Just fuck me.”
We’ll handle the rest when we’re done.
Marcus swipes his tongue across his lips. “Condoms, Lauren.”
“Have you ever gone without them?”
He shakes his head. “Never.”
I push at his chest, and his expression shutters as he lands back on the couch. With one fluid movement, he yanks his pants and boxers back down. “You’re a good girl, Lauren, but right now, I want you to be a bad girl for me.”
Panting, I pull my robe off and drop it on the floor.
“Ride me,” he orders gruffly.
I straddle him again, and he lifts my hips to position me over him. I’m still sore from last night, and pain mixes with rising pleasure as he impales me. He coaxes me gently as I sink down slowly, gasping when he fits inside me entirely.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he mutters as I ease up again. “Nice and slow.”
My hands grip his shoulders as I bounce gently before I pick up the pace as I get used to his size. Marcus’ breathing quickens, and his hold on me tightens. Fire dances in his eyes, the same fire that dances in my stomach, fire that is mixed with desire and doubt and need and wishful thinking. Marcus still wishes he felt nothing for me. I wish he’d let himself go, allow himself to love me. We could deal with every issue together; I just know it.
That’s never going to happen, so I should enjoy the moment. Take what I can get. Pleasure myself with this scintillating appendage between his legs, then walk away.
“Lauren.” Marcus’ body shudders as I raise myself into a squat, riding him harder, faster. “Stop fucking with my head.”
“Right after you stop fucking with mine, Marcus,” I whisper back, a flood of pleasure filling me.
With one hand gripping the back of the couch to keep me balanced, I stroke my clit with the other, still fucking him like my life depends on it. His eyes shift to my moving hand, and he mutters a curse. His cock swells inside me, sending waves of pleasure through my body.
“I can’t tell you how fucking hot that is, baby,” he breathes, his light brown skin now a healthy shade of red. “Don’t you dare stop.”
As if I’d ever think of stopping. That agony on his face is like fuel, egging me on. To see the great Marcus losing himself like this for me is everything. He’s not the only one who wants to leave a mark. Maybe I can ruin him for other women too.
“Oh, fuck.” His hips jerk upward, grinding against me. His mouth is half-open, his sharp breaths filling the room. “Lauren… God, Lauren! ”
God, I feel like the most powerful woman in the world in this moment, bringing Marcus to his knees—
‘Front door, open’, the voice alert system suddenly announces.
Oh, shit.
With a frightened gasp, I get off Marcus and quickly reach for my robe and slip into it. He gets busy hauling his pants back up, worry heavy on his face. I try to rearrange my hair with the hope that it’s half-way decent, that with the scrutiny I’m about to be under, one can’t tell I just fucked Marcus within an inch of his life.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Marcus mutters. He looks seriously worried, like he’s about to be sick, which, in turn, makes me feel sick. He dashes to the kitchen as Gabriel rounds the corner. I force a smile at my brother, whose eyes dart to Marcus before coming back to me.
Then back to Marcus.
“Hey, dude,” Marcus greets him, coming back to the living room. I would give him an Oscar if I had one. His ability to quickly change his expression is something that needs to be studied. He seems quite unbothered, shirt tucked neatly into his pants, no sign he’d just been growling at me to ride him harder. No sign that he didn’t get to come. No sign he still wants me. I shift my focus from his crotch back to his friendly smile as he takes a drink from the water bottle.
“Hey.” Gabriel now turns his attention to me. “I stopped by the office to check on you and found out you’d already left for the day. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, was just tired and overwhelmed with everything that’s going on, so I came home.” Telling him about the appointment would only throw Marcus under the bus. Gabriel would be mad to find out that his best friend knew before he did.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this.” He suddenly reaches in and pulls me into a hug. My body stiffens. I hope to God he won’t catch Marcus’ scent on me. From the worry once more stamped on Marcus’ face, he’s probably hoping the same.
He pulls back with a frown, eyeing my attire, then looking at Marcus. “Where’s Andrew?”
“I asked Marcus to pick me up. Andrew is on his way,” I reply.
His lips twist. “I don’t get why you’re wearing a robe.”
“Last time I checked, I can wear anything in my own house, can’t I?” I smirk and he rolls his eyes and I’m relieved when his expression clears.
He ruffles my hair fondly then regards Marcus. “Is your dad in town? Mom sent him an invite to her engagement party, but he didn’t RSVP.”
A cloud passes over Marcus’ face as he responds, “He probably didn’t see it. He’s been back and forth to San Diego.”
“Oh, crap.” Gabriel slaps his forehead. “I forgot about his treatment. How’s he doing?”
Marcus eyes are on me, not Gabriel. “Treatment?” I ask, puzzled.
Gabriel blows out a sharp breath, then mutters, “Shit.”
“What’s going on with your Dad?” I press Marcus, even more curious now after Gabriel response and the guilt now swarming Marcus’ face.
There’s a long pause, during which they share a secret look. Finally, Marcus mutters, “He has stage four prostate cancer.”
“Jesus, Marcus.” Shock zings up my spine, leaving me frozen for a second. A crumpled look on Marcus’ face thaws me out, and I rush toward him, pulling him into a hug. “I’m so, so sorry!”
Oh, yes. He certainly deserves that Oscar.
“Thanks,” he replies in a throaty voice. He hugs me back, just barely, leaving a space between us. Ironic. His entire body feels stiff. I end the awkward moment by pulling away.
“My bad,” Gabriel says to Marcus. “I know you wanted to keep things on the downlow for now. ”
Marcus fans off his comment just as I ask, “Why would you keep that from me?”
“His dad isn’t ready for the news to get out, and Marcus wanted to respect his decision. We literally had to force it out of him,” Gabriel explains. He gives me a direct stare. “Please don’t let it leave this room.”
“Of course,” I reply quickly, though still puzzled. Marcus still looks uncomfortable, even more now than before, which triggers an uneasy feeling. I can’t help feeling there’s more he’s not telling me.