Chapter 14 Brin
Brin
Marco’s body beneath mine goes completely still. Over his shoulder, I see a couple, man and woman, at the entryway to the apartment. They are furiously making out, starting to strip each other’s clothes off.
“Ash,” Marco barks out, and the man tears himself away from the woman’s lips.
He’s older than Marco by a few years, so mid-thirties maybe. His shirt’s open so I can see the ripple of muscles that runs from neck to navel, which is completely hairless, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many ab muscles in one place.
I slip off Marco’s back. I don’t know who this guy is, but I don’t think he’s supposed to be here. But then again, are we really supposed to be here either? Marco said it was fine.
Ash’s eyes widen as he looks between me and Marco. There’s a tense moment between the two of them until Ash breaks and turns to the woman. “Don’t worry, they’re leaving.” He smirks at her.
“No, we’re not. You are.” Marco’s voice is hard, unwavering.
The woman looks at us, clearly debating about who to believe.
“Let’s go to your place,” Ash says.
The woman turns back to Ash. “Don’t you live here?”
“Yes,” Ash lies. “It’s fine.” He runs a hand down her arm and tries to push her down the hallway. “The room at the end. I’ll be in soon.”
“He won’t,” Marco growls. “Ash, you’re fired.”
Ash’s face morphs into an ugly sneer. “You can’t fire me.”
“Yes, I can—”
“Okay.” The woman throws her hands up. “I’m leaving.”
Ash grabs her wrist. “Hang on a second.”
Marco reaches out and pushes me behind him. He prowls forward. “Let her go.”
Ash lifts his hands, and the woman makes the smart decision to escape quickly. “Marco, what are you doing?” he hisses and gestures to the door. “Come on, man.”
“I said you’re fired. Get out of here.”
“If I’m fired, I’m taking you down with me.” He sneers at Marco. “You act like you’re better than me but you’re here doing the exact same thing.” Ash gestures at me.
“Don’t look at her. And don’t even presume to think you know what I’m doing here. William won’t even notice your departure. I’ll have someone else picked out by the time he returns. He doesn’t give two shits about you.”
“You can’t replace me!”
“I’ll find out how you got into the building off schedule and I’ll make sure whoever is responsible is fired too. And I’ll check the security footage with a fine-toothed comb and if this isn’t the first time you’ve abused your access to William’s apartment, you’ll be sure to hear about it from me.”
“Fuck you!” Ash shouts. “You’re just William’s little pet.” He grabs the nearest thing—a vase—and smashes it.
“Congratulations on your tantrum.” Marco’s voice is cold. “Now you have two seconds to get out the door before I call the police, which means I’ll also have to call William while he’s on vacation. We don’t want that, do we?”
“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?” Ash spits, but then, thank god, he leaves.
The apartment is eerily silent. Marco’s breathing hard, his back to me, and I think of all the effort Marco puts into working for William. And Ash’s parting words.
“You know you’re not an asshole, right?”
Marco laughs, but it’s dry and humorless. “You just watched me fire the personal trainer who’s worked with William for years, longer than I have. I also threatened the security team of the building and probably scared that woman he was with. Ash told lies, but that wasn’t one of them.”
“I know you better,” I say. “You’re not an asshole.”
Finally Marco turns to face me. “Don’t you think Joe knew me better?” His voice rises. “One of the last things Joe told me was that I was an asshole, and you know what? I believe him. I am an asshole. It’s literally my job.”
The implication is there: you don’t know me.
I look away from Marco. I may not know him as well as his brother did, but I don’t know how to tackle this deep-seated belief that Marco has.
Instead I go looking for a dustpan. Marco bends down to pick up the big pieces of the vase and grunts at me to look in the hall closet. When I return, he’s brought the trash can over and the biggest pieces have been picked up.
“Was it an expensive vase?” I ask while I sweep up the dust.
“Everything in here is expensive.”
“Okay, let me rephrase the question. Will Billy Bob mourn the loss of this vase?”
Marco sighs. “No, but I liked it.”
He’s kneeling on the floor, holding the dustpan, so I rest the broom against the table and put both hands on his shoulders. I look right into his eyes—his weary, tired eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Our faces are so close, the closest they’ve been since we kissed yesterday. It comes back to me in a rush, my brain having been too sleepy earlier to remember the stupid things I did yesterday.
I can’t believe that we’d kissed and I’d told him I was technically a virgin. Marco is clearly LEVELS above me in that department. Just like it feels like he is dozens of steps ahead of me in life.
And how irresponsible was it of me? Marco’s a good guy—despite his protestations—but I’ve got such a sweet deal living with him. If he thinks I’m crushing on him or we can’t get back to our normal, casual roommates relationship, I’ll never find another housing deal like this.
And I do not want to go back to multiple roommates, sketchy lease agreements, or sleeping in the living room with a curtain for privacy.
It’s not worth it, even for an exceptionally good kiss.
Epically good.
I have fooled around with guys before—I’m a virgin, but I’m not completely inexperienced—but how is it possible that a quick makeout sesh with Marco is better than anything I’ve done, period?
I think Marco knows exactly what I’m thinking about because his gaze has shifted. He’s looking at me with curiosity and something else . . .
I straighten, letting my hands drop and step back, looking at the apartment around us. I didn’t pay attention when we came in because I was half-asleep being dragged by Marco, but holy shit, this place is amazing.
It’s still decorated for Christmas, even though William isn’t here.
There’s evergreen garland everywhere—the real stuff, not the plastic and wires of my childhood.
It smells like a pine forest, and it looks a bit like one too.
There are trees of multiple sizes scattered throughout the place.
Everything that isn’t evergreen shines: the glass ornaments, the ribbons, the candles.
It’s extra and over the top and I love it.
“Wow.”
Marco glances up at me from the floor, where he had bent down to clean the broken vase. I walk over to the nearest tree, decorated with strings of pearls and a fine, silken golden ribbon. “Did you do all this?”
Marco snorts. “No. We hired a designer who picked everything out. I just made sure the execution went off without a hitch.”
“Why is it still here?”
“William’s not home, but you know how mercurial he is. He might call me up tomorrow and be over St. Barts, on his way back here. Plus the designer has events all week; they don’t have time to break things down. It can wait until later. Although they did take the expensive stuff.”
My eyes widen. “The expensive stuff? This isn’t the expensive stuff?”
Marco comes to stand beside me and tugs on a ribbon. “The gold is gone. Anything crystal, too. Things that needed washing—linens and dishes—are gone. Probably already at some other event.”
“And so, what? The trees are going to sit here, dying?”
“Yes.” Marco goes back to the dustpan and sweeps the last of the ceramic dust into it. He comes to his feet and picks up the garbage can to put it back.
“Wow,” I say. “Rich people.”
I’m instantly fighting back bitterness. If I had a fraction of the wealth Billy Bob did, maybe I would have met Marco in a completely different situation.
What if I’d had a nice apartment with responsible roommates?
What if I didn’t have to work outrageous hours to pay for my mistakes and had the time to date?
What if Marco saw me not as someone who needed rescuing, but as a grown, confident woman, someone who he might even be attracted to?
I guess I’ll never know.