7. Marcus
I expected the evening to fly by, but every time I looked at the clock, it seemed to be ticking even slower than before. I feel almost antsy, waiting for the morning to arrive so that I can collect Chloe.
Miles interrupts my pacing, looking at me with his usual piercing gaze that lets me know he’s about to say something I’ll probably not approve of. I wait for him to get on with it, but when he doesn’t, I find myself snapping at him.
“Just get on and say whatever is on your mind.”
He lets out a chuckle, though there’s no humour in his eyes. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? I mean, have you even considered what it’s going to be like having her living here for the next two months?”
I freeze as his words hit me. Honestly, this isn’t the most well thought out plan. It’s barely a plan, but it’s all I could think of, and so I need to make it work.
“She’s an independent woman who can take care of herself. It’s not like I’ve taken custody of a fucking child,” I grumble.
Miles rolls his eyes at me. “You’ve never lived with a woman before. Where’s she going to sleep? Have you bought anything that she will need?”
I hold my hand out to stop what I’m sure would turn into a lengthy rant if I didn’t. “I have three spare bedrooms, so she can take one of them. And I’m pretty sure she’ll bring anything she needs. If she doesn’t, I’ll buy it for her.”
I keep myself from saying that I’d quite like her to share my bed, as I definitely don’t want to hear whatever disapproving speech that comment would produce.
“You have no idea what it’s like living with another person, especially a girl,” he adds, and this time it’s me who gives him an eye roll.
“I’m not socially inept, Miles. I can live with another person, I’ve done it before. Besides, you spend enough time here to almost be considered a roommate,” I reply flippantly, and he laughs.
“I’m definitely not your roommate. When I stay here, it’s as your bodyguard, or I’ve passed out drunk in the spare room I call mine. You’ve never had to deal with any of my bad habits, or any other annoying thing roommates do to each other.”
Even though I went to university, I had my own apartment, with Jacob in a matching one next door. I’ve never had to share with anyone else, and I’m certainly not used to having people in my space all the time. Even my bodyguards don’t stay in my home, other than when Miles does occasionally.
I’m an only child, used to getting everything I’ve ever wanted. Spoiled doesn’t even begin to cover it. And I’ve never had to share. Maybe Miles is right and I’ll find this experience much harder than I first thought.
“It’s too late now, the deal has been done,” I grumble.
“Maybe you should just try and make her feel a little more at home. If this is to be her home for the next two months, she needs to feel like this is her place too, rather than she’s just crashing at yours,” he adds.
I fix him with a pointed stare as I run my hands through my hair. “How do I do that?”
Miles throws his arms in the air, exacerbated. “You could just ask her?”
“Fine, I’ll do that,” I grumble, hating that I didn’t think of that.
Miles lets out a chuckle as he throws himself onto my sofa, reaching for the remote. “Get some sleep. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long few days for you.”
I consider throwing expletives at him, but decide against it. “Are you staying in your room?” I ask, and he nods. “I’ll save the big room opposite mine for Chloe.”
The smile on his face grows. He’s reading into what I just said, but I ignore him once again, moving towards my room to try and at least get a bit of sleep before tomorrow.
I hate that as soon as my head hits the pillow, my thoughts are consumed by her, and what it’s going to be like having her here—in my space, all the time. I was so caught up in the idea of something finally happening between us, led by my fucking cock, I didn’t even consider what I’m getting myself into.
From the moment I woke up, I did everything I could to distract myself from the ever-slow ticking clock. I went to my home gym and ran on the treadmill for a bit, before going down to the pool in the basement of my apartment block to swim a few lengths.
I rushed through my shower, not trusting myself to be alone with my cock for any length of time, without wanking to the thought of her being in my house. So, when the time finally came to go pick up Chloe, I felt like I’d been awake forever, and I’m exhausted.
Since we’re going over to the Santoro estate, which is a short drive away, Miles accompanies me and drives. I lose count of how many times I yawn on the journey over, and Miles tries not to laugh.
I fix him with a glare, but that only makes him shake harder. “I have a feeling the next eight weeks will be the death of you.”
“You better hope not, given I pay you good money to keep me alive,” I retort, much snappier than usual.
“You pay me to protect you from threats, not your own stupidity.”
My gaze narrows, as my scowl grows. “I get it, you don’t approve.”
“I didn’t say I don’t approve. I’m actually quite excited to see how this will play out,” he states, his smirk widening as he focuses on the road.
“Wanker,” I grumble, unable to think of a better comeback.
Miles laughs, but doesn’t say more. We allow the silence to fill the car as we turn onto the stupidly long gravel drive that leads to the Santoro estate.
Once we’ve passed security, Miles parks the car off to the side of the house, and we both climb out, approaching the large mansion together. Just as we reach the final step onto the wrap-around porch, the big white door opens and Caleb Santoro is standing there, looking less than impressed.
He looks a little surprised to see me, which is odd given this is the time I said I’d be arriving. Before either of us can say anything, the sound of an approaching car captures our attention. I turn towards the noise, and it only takes me a fraction of a second to recognise the vehicle.
Now I know exactly why Caleb Santoro is answering his own door, instead of having his staff do it. As soon as the black Lexus is parked, the door opens and my father steps out.
Miles leans closer to me, whispering so only I can hear. “Did you know he was coming?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t told him about any of this. I didn’t know he knew…though I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Maximus Morelli knows fucking everything,” Miles chuckles, and I agree. My father is a worse gossip than anyone I’ve ever met. What has me more concerned is whether he’s here on my side or Caleb’s.
As my father approaches, he looks all business, dressed in the smart black suit he always wears when he’s working. I silently praise myself for having the good sense to wear my own suit, as I’d be in for a bollocking if he’d seen me here at the Santoro estate dressed in anything other than a suit.
He walks straight to Caleb, his arm outstretched to shake the hand of his long-term friend and business partner. Although they’re not as close as me and Jacob, a peace treaty was built on the foundations of their friendship, and it’s stood the test of time—so far.
As soon as he’s greeted Caleb, he turns to me. I take a step towards him, my hand out, showing him the respect he deserves as the elder of the family. His grip on my hand is tighter than I’d like, and his stone-faced expression gives nothing away.
Father pulls me in closer, leaning in so only I can hear. “You’ve got us in a right fucking mess this time, Son. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about any of this?” he growls, and this time when I look in his eyes, I can see the barely restrained anger shining back.
“There’s nothing to tell. I have it under control,” I reply flippantly, his eyes widening at my tone.
Before he can say anything more, Caleb interrupts us. “Let's go into the living room.”
He doesn’t wait for us to reply. He turns and walks into the house, expecting us to follow. Shooting another glare my way, my father pulls his shoulders back and follows Caleb. Looking like a chastised schoolboy, I trail behind them, Miles by my side.
When we reach the living room, Jacob and Chloe are already seated on the sofa. Jake looks like he’s not slept at all, and the bright red rings around his eyes and pinpoint pupils tells me he’s leaning on substances to help him get through this.
Chloe, on the other hand, looks exactly as she did yesterday—perfectly put together, wearing a conservative black dress, not a hair out of place. It’s so different from the girl I know, but then again, I look different in the presence of my father too.
“Can I get you a drink, Maximus?” Caleb asks, addressing only my father, like the rest of us aren’t even here.
“No, thank you. I think it’s best we get this issue sorted out as quickly as we can, so as to not take up any more of each other’s precious time,” my father replies, like the professional he is.
Before anyone has a chance to respond, a scuffle can be heard from the next room, loud voices carrying through into the living room.
“Mr Santoro asked you to wait in his office,” shouts a stern-sounding man.
More noises ring out, and it sounds like someone is fighting in the hallway. We’re all staring at where the noise is coming from, and Miles discreetly takes a step closer to me, always on duty.
“I don’t give a fuck what he wants. I want to be part of this meeting. Let me in there, NOW!”
Caleb steps towards the door, his face crinkled with anger, recognising who the voice belongs to. Both Chloe and Jacob are up on their feet, wearing matching shocked expressions as they stare at the door.
When the door slams open, I rush to stand in front of Chloe, pushing her behind me, as Jacob moves to my side, blocking her completely from view. Miles jumps in front of me and pulls out his gun from his side holster without a second thought, aiming it at the now open door.
My father has pulled his gun too, aiming at the door, but doesn’t have a clear shot as Caleb is in the way.
Time seems to move ridiculously slowly as people draw their weapons, while we watch the door, waiting for the danger to approach. The scuffling gets louder, until finally a man bursts into the room, red-faced and angry.
“What the fuck, Scott?” Caleb yells, as two members of his security team fumble in behind Scott, each with cuts on their faces.
“I told you I wanted to be part of the meeting. I refuse to wait and be excluded,” he shouts, puffing his chest out like that will make a difference.
As my brain catches up, I realise who I’m looking at. I don’t think I’ve ever met Scott Caprillo in person, so I’d have no reason to recognise him. But I can’t think of any other person named Scott who would be quite as invested in this situation.
I take a minute to look over the man who Chloe will be marrying in just a couple of months. I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting, but he’s definitely not it. Perhaps I was hoping for an old bald guy, which Scott definitely isn’t.
He looks to be around the same age as me, with a similar athletic build—though I’d like to think I’m a bit more ripped underneath my clothes. His blonde hair has darker roots that suggest he may be ginger underneath the hair dye. He’s got a firm jawline and a slightly too wide nose, but otherwise, there’s nothing noteworthy about him.
Objectively, he’s not a bad looking bloke, yet I can tell by the way his sneer that the guy’s a wanker. I also fucking hate the way his gaze is fixed on Chloe, who is standing behind me, trying not to be seen by him.
“I think we need to defuse the tension in the room, before someone gets trigger happy,” my father states, grabbing everyone’s attention.
At that point, everyone looks around, noting that Miles and my father have their guns drawn, and both me and Jacob have our hands on our weapons, and Caleb’s security look to be seconds from pulling theirs too. Given the blood dripping down their faces, they’re more likely to shoot Scott than I am—and that’s saying something.
“I think that’s a good idea. Scott, I need to ask you to calm down, so everyone can put their guns away,” Caleb states calmly, though his tone with Scott is cold and firm, letting him know it’s an instruction not a suggestion.
“I just wanted to be part of the fucking meeting,” Scott snaps, looking like he’s seconds away from stomping his foot on the floor, like a child having a tantrum.
My father steps towards him, looking more menacing than I’ve seen in a while. “Well, now you’re part of it. I suggest you simmer down, or I will not hesitate to shoot you.”
Scott’s brow crinkles, his scowl deepening. He looks like he’s going to reply, but Caleb cuts him off. “Why don’t we all put our guns away and take a seat? Can I get anyone a drink?”
I shake my head, resisting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of Caleb offering us tea while we have guns pointed at each other. He doesn’t wait for any of us to respond, taking a seat in one of the black leather armchairs.
Caleb motions for my father to take the matching chair next to him, which he does, after placing his gun back in his holster. Father looks over at me, his gaze subtly flicking to Scott, before he nods towards the black leather sofa beside me, silently making his wishes known.
With a groan, I let go of my gun and sit on the sofa. Without thinking, I take hold of Chloe’s hand and pull her down with me, so she’s sitting beside me.
She’s so close, I can feel the heat from her thigh against mine, and it takes all my fucking effort not to look at her bare leg.
I keep my hand on hers, while my gaze remains fixed on Scott—the unknown danger in the room. Seconds later, Jacob takes the remaining seat on Chloe’s other side, and Miles moves to stand at the back of the sofa, towering over us.
His stance is protective, giving him a good view of the room. I also notice that while he’s lowered his gun, he’s not put it away. It remains firmly in his grasp, and I don’t correct him—neither does my father.
Scott’s glare is fixed on where Chloe’s hand is linked with mine, his eyes wide and angry. My lip tilts up into a smirk, loving that just me holding her hand is winding him up.
“I will give you five seconds to remove your hand from my fiancée, or I will do it for you, and I can’t be held responsible if that happens,” Scott growls, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes at his pathetic excuse for a threat.
Chloe’s eyes widen in panic, and she tries to pull her hand from mine, but I tighten my grip, making it clear I have no intention of letting her go.
“She may be your fiancée, but she’s mine for the next sixty days, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” I reply, much more smugly than necessary. What can I say? I’m enjoying winding this cocksucker up.
Jake groans beside us, shaking his head as Scott practically vibrates with rage. I look over at my father, expecting him to be giving me a death glare too, but I’m shocked to see him trying to hold back a smile. There’s even a hint of pride in his eyes.
“Wanna bet? I’ll fucking kill you,” Scott screams, taking a menacing step forward. He doesn’t get far as one of Caleb’s security guards grabs his shoulders, holding him in place.
I’m about to cut in with a scathing reply when my father leans forward, his icy cold voice cutting through the room. “I think now would be a good time to remind you who the fuck you’re talking to. In case your feeble brain has forgotten, I’m Maximus Morelli, and this is my son and heir, Marcus. We run half of Blackthorn, and even if you’re aligned with the Santoros, you know that we still demand the same respect. You’ll do well to remember that. I don’t take kindly to anyone threatening my son.”
The casual way my father leans back in his chair, like he didn’t just throw out a thinly-veiled threat, makes me smile. Scott has the good sense to look more than a little terrified as he shrugs out of the guards hold.
Facing my father, he addresses him directly, and I can tell how much it pains him to show any politeness. “I apologise for my rudeness, the heat of the moment got the better of me. I meant no disrespect, but at the same time, I have to stand up for my own honour, and that of my family.”
“You feel your honour has been besmirched?” my father asks, and I hear Jacob chuckle beside me at the absurdity of the situation. My father sounds like a posh Lord, greeting his peasant followers. He also looks to be enjoying this much more than I expected.
“Chloe is my betrothed. The marriage contract has been agreed to and signed, so as far as I’m concerned, that is a binding agreement, which she is now trying to refute because of your son,” Scott replies quickly, disgust dripping from every word as he glowers at Chloe.
I want to poke his fucking eyes out for looking at her at all, let alone with such disgust. What makes it worse is the way she shrinks in on herself under the weight of his gaze. I need to teach her to never cower to anyone. To hold her head up high, like the beautiful, powerful woman she is.
“I’m aware of the contract you have with the Santoros, but that’s nothing to do with me or my son. As far as we’re concerned, Marcus won the bet, fair and square, and now he’s claiming his prize. Any issues you have should be directed to Caleb,” my father adds, pointing at his rival and friend, who looks less than pleased by this.
Caleb lets out a sigh, looking tired. “We still intend on honouring the marriage contract, as I explained to you, we just need to delay it by a couple of weeks. Nothing else has changed.”
Scott cheeks redden as he shouts, “Everything has changed. You expect me to marry someone that I know is whoring around? I will not marry a fucking slut.”
“Enough!” I snap, fixing him with my deadliest gaze. “Do not talk about her like that.”
Caleb points his finger at Scott threateningly. “Do not talk about my daughter like that, or you will face consequences. There is no sexual element to the deal with Marcus, and even if there was, the marriage contract very clearly states that Chloe is not pure—that’s something you agreed to.”
Chloe shrinks down beside me as her family talks about her sex life like she’s not in the room. My blood boils, and the urge to fight for her ripples through my veins like fire.
“I didn’t agree to this,” Scott snaps, pointing to me and Chloe. “He’s touching what’s mine, and I have a right to stand up for myself.”
Caleb looks like he’s about to say something, but my father cuts him off. “This is getting boring. The bet will be honoured. Chloe will live with Marcus for the next sixty days, and then she’ll be free to marry you, if she wishes. There is no room for discussion with this.
“We have upheld the peace treaty for a long time, but if you threaten my son again, I will not hesitate to break it. I will wipe out you, and the entire Caprillo family, consequences be damned.
“Now that I’ve made the Morelli position clear, why don’t we hash out the details of this arrangement, so we can all get on with our day.” Whilst my father does his best to sound nothing but calm and professional, I can hear the anger in his words, and Scott will do well to take the threat seriously .
I don’t think I’ve ever heard my father threaten to break the peace treaty, and while I don’t think he’d ever do it, the threat seems to be enough to get everyone in the room to calm down and think a little more logically.
Caleb clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “I think that’s a great idea. I’d like to start by requesting that Chloe comes home every Sunday for lunch, so we can catch up with her and make sure everything is okay.”
Father nods his head slowly. “I think that’s fair?—”
Before he can finish, I cut in. “I’ll agree to it, but only if I can attend too. While Chloe is in my care, it’s my responsibility to ensure her safety.”
“She’ll be fine at home with us,” Jake snaps, glaring at me.
Caleb cuts in with a nod. “We can agree to that. I’m glad to hear you plan on ensuring she’s safe with you.”
“Of course, he will,” my father states firmly, a little disgruntled by the suggestion. “Anything else?”
Caleb and Jake look at each other, but neither says anything. My blood boils when neither of them even bother asking Chloe if there’s anything she’d like to add into the agreement. But it annoys me more that she just sits there in silence, blending into the furniture.
Unfortunately, my anger isn’t helped when Scott opens his stupid fucking mouth again. “I will need time with Chloe to plan our wedding.”
“Fuck, no,” I snap, shaking my head.
“Wait a—” Scott leans forward to begin what I’m sure is about to be a tirade, when Caleb cuts him off.
“Marcus, please show a little reason. The wedding will take place mere days after your agreement ends, so it only makes sense that they have time together to plan,” Caleb argues.
I shake my head, but my father speaks before I can. “We can agree to one hour per week, but only for the last four weeks. The first four she will be getting settled into a routine with us.
“She’ll be allowed contact with her wedding planner at all times, so I’m sure that will ensure things go off without a hitch. I imagine you don’t want to be all that involved in planning the wedding, anyway,” he adds, fixing Scott with a glare that dares him to challenge him.
Scott is either really bad at reading people or a fucking idiot—I’m not sure which. “I actually plan on being very involved in my wedding. Four hours will not be enough.”
“You’ll have to make it work,” my father snaps, turning his gaze to Caleb, looking for his support.
“I think that’s very kind,” Caleb adds, in an effort to keep things cordial.
I can’t stop my smirk when Scott’s face crumples. “Fine, but I guarantee you I will cancel the wedding contract if I find out she’s been fucking him.” He points at me for good measure, like there was ever any doubt about who he might have been referring to.
This time when Caleb speaks, all the politeness has gone, and his calming tone has been replaced by anger. “You will not cancel the fucking marriage contract, unless you want to start a war with my family. You agreed to the marriage knowing Chloe isn’t pure, and even if she sleeps with a hundred people in the next sixty days, that doesn’t change anything about the contract. You will take her.”
The way he talks about his daughter makes me so fucking angry. I feel like my whole body is vibrating with rage. For the first time since I walked into the room, Chloe’s quiet voice rings out from beside me.
“Please stop talking about me like I’m not even here. Scott, you are talking about me like I’m something you own, just because you have a contract that says I’ll belong to you. But Marcus has one too. If you’re allowed to do whatever you want with me while I’m yours, then surely you can understand Marcus wanting the same rights while I belong to him.”
Her voice is so fucking shy and timid, and not once does she lift her gaze from looking at her hands. If I thought I was angry before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel hearing Chloe talk about herself like she’s an object that we’re passing around.
Given the fact her family hasn’t objected, something tells me this is the way she’s been made to feel her whole life.
It makes me want to set fire to the whole fucking room, laughing with her as we watch it burn. She’s definitely not an object to be owned, and the sooner she learns that, the faster she can take back the power these arseholes have stolen from her.
Scott stutters over his words, clearly not sure what to say. “That’s not… I mean, it’s not… This is different.”
“How?” I ask, fixing him with an arrogant glare.
Scott looks to be contemplating a response when Jake speaks. “Look, Marcus has agreed that this deal isn’t sexual. She’s not there for sex, and he’d never force her into it.”
I mean, that’s true, but I won’t say no when she begs me…and she will.
For the first time since we entered the room, Chloe looks up at me. Her eyes are almost devoid of emotion, but there’s something there, like she’s screaming at me to get her out of here.
“I think we’re going around in circles now. I would never force Chloe into anything. If something happens, it’s because she’s asked for it. But even if we do have sex, it doesn’t change the fact this is a temporary arrangement. She’s marrying you, and you’d do well to remember that,” I growl at Scott, hating the way the words taste like ash on my tongue.
Chloe’s eyes close, and she looks so fucking hurt, it makes my stomach flip. When she opens them again, there’s a slight sheen to them, like my words brought tears to her eyes, and it’s like a punch to the gut.
Does she not realise I’m just saying whatever it takes to get this fuckwit to back down so I can get her out of here?
Scott walks over to Chloe and kneels down in front of her, completely ignoring me and Jake. He places his hand on her knee, and when Chloe flinches, I want to plough my hand into his face.
“I’ll allow you to go with Marcus, but you better remember exactly what he just said. When this is over, it’s me you’ll be spending the rest of your life with. I decide how comfortable your future will be. Remember that,” he states far too calmly, while squeezing her thigh so hard, her skin turns white.
I’m about to punch him when Miles lays his hand on my shoulder, warning me not to do anything rash. He’s right, of course. With this, I can bide my time. I’ll select the best time, and when he least expects it, I’ll strike. There’s no way I’m letting him get away with a threat like that.
Besides, if he’s dead and buried in an unmarked grave, I won’t have to worry about what will happen in sixty days when I refuse to let Chloe leave. I suspect, given how protective I’m feeling towards her, once I have her in my world, I won’t ever let her go.
When I get her home, I have sixty days to show her who she really is. It’s not just about showing her how much of a slut she can be for me—although that part will be fun. I need to build her confidence, give her back the power people have taken from her, until she sees the same person that I do.
As soon as we get home, it’s game on!