Chapter Twelve
Marcus
The moment our private jet lands in Auckland, I unbuckle my belt, and I’m the first out of the door onto the tarmac. I stride out of the terminal to the area where Tane is waiting in Dad’s Mercedes and get in the car, then curse and fidget while we wait for Caesar.
“Come on,” I bark as he gets in.
“You forgot the luggage,” he snaps as an assistant loads it in the boot.
“I didn’t want my case anyway,” I grumble.
Caesar frowns and says, a little more gently, “She’s all right. Tane saw her, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” the driver says. “She was a little shaken up, but she was okay.”
“She was shaken up? Dad didn’t tell me that.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Caesar says, glaring at Tane, who pulls a face. But now I won’t be pacified. I need to see her for myself and make sure she’s okay.
I’m tired—the meeting with the PM went on for two hours, and it was pretty intense, and then the flight back took over an hour, and now we have to wait in the slow traffic to cross the Harbour Bridge.
I take off my jacket, irritable and hot.
I should have asked them to prepare the helicopter, but it’s too late now.
Instead, I stare out of the window, lost in thought, until the car pulls up outside the house.
Before Tane has even turned off the engine, I’m out and striding up to the front door. It opens as I approach, and Dad says, “Well, hello.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s all right,” he says. “She’s given a statement to the police, and she’s fine. Stay calm.”
I ignore him, walk into the living room, which is empty, and then go through to the kitchen when I hear voices.
Wren’s there with Mum, and they’re making muffins. My heart lifts when I see Wren laughing. She’s okay, I think, relief sweeping over me. She’s still in one piece.
She looks up at that point, sees me, and drops the spoon with a clatter.
Mum follows her gaze. “Oh, hello! You’re early.”
“That’s because Marcus made Tane drive at two hundred kilometers an hour once we got through the traffic,” Caesar says wryly from behind me. “We must have got, like, thirty speeding tickets on the way.”
I walk around the counter and go up to Wren. “Are you all right?”
She swallows. “I’m fine.”
“Dad said he grabbed your wrist.”
“It’s okay…”
“Which one?”
She lifts her hands, which are covered in flour. “My left, but—”
I take her left hand and hold it up to examine her wrist. It’s starting to bruise.
“Mars…”
I take her face in my hands. Her eyes are red—she’s been crying. My heart is racing. She’s not hurt badly, I tell myself, but it could have been so much worse.
“I’m fine,” she says, trying to push me away.
I can’t bear that she’s hiding how she feels. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Marcus,” Dad says, “she says she’s okay.”
I look up to find them all watching us. Watching me. They think I’m overreacting. Ice-cold fury sweeps through me.
I pick up Wren’s floury hand and stride toward the sliding doors, bringing her with me.
“Marcus…” Mum says, but I keep walking, slide the door open, go outside, and close the door behind me.
The sun is low in the sky, and it’s incredibly warm. I’m conscious that my shirt is stuck to my back with sweat. I usually shower before I see her, but I didn’t have time. Despite this, Wren is shivering.
I walk along the house until we reach a wall, which means nobody can see us. I stop and turn to face her.
“I’m all right,” she says, flustered. “Don’t make a fuss.”
“You have no idea what I’ve been through for the past four hours,” I say hoarsely.
She frowns. Then she blows out a shaky breath. “Your dad said you were in the Beehive when Rory called you. What made you answer the call?”
“He texted me a code first that we’d set up to mean you were involved in an emergency.”
She gives a short laugh in disbelief. “You’re talking as if I’m marrying the King of England.”
I put my hands on my hips, trying to contain my frustration at her lack of understanding.
“Do you actually have any concept of how much money my family has? We play it down because we come from a modest background, but we are incredibly wealthy. And money is like heroin. It possesses people, twists them, corrupts them. And they’ll do anything to get it. Anything, Wren.”
She blinks. “I can’t believe you left the PM to sort it out.”
“Nothing is as important to me as you are, Wren Carter. Nothing. Don’t you understand?”
She looks confused. “How did you know that my mum took out a restraining order on my dad?”
“When you said you’d marry me, I did some research. I knew your dad left when you were young and had a suspicion he might prove to be a problem. Aren’t you glad I did?” I glare at her. I feel hurt that she doesn’t appreciate what I’ve done for her.
Her eyes flare. “Well, I can’t stand here and say that I’m not glad after what happened today, can I? But that doesn’t mean I’m pleased you invaded my privacy.”
“It wasn’t a case of invading your privacy.”
“What was it, then?”
“I was protecting you.”
“I don’t actually need protecting, thank you.”
“I’m sorry, but tell me again what happened today?”
She glowers at me. “I would’ve handled it.”
I just give her an exasperated look. She lifts her chin, and my heart rate increases. Goddamn it. She’s irresistible when she’s feisty.
Nope, not going to think about sex. That’s the last thing that should be on my mind.
“Well, it won’t happen again,” I snap, irritated with myself. “I’ve increased your security detail. Now you’ll have someone with you at all times, as soon as you set foot out of the house.”
She inhales, and her eyes flare. “No! I don’t want that.”
“Stamp your feet all you like. I’m not changing my mind. He won’t get near you again.”
“I am not stamping my feet,” she says hotly. “You don’t need to fix everything. I’m not a problem that needs solving. I have a mind of my own, and you need to consult with me before you make decisions like this.”
My patience has run out. “It’s non-negotiable.”
“Marcus! For God’s sake. This is still my life. And I don’t want you waltzing in and controlling me.”
“Tough. You’re my fiancée. You’re going to be my wife. And nobody gets to touch you but me.”
She looks completely shocked at that comment. Her bottom lip trembles, but her eyes blaze at the same time.
“Now you listen here, mister.” She stabs my shoulder with a finger.
“I’ve just about had it today with men thinking they can push me around.
And I’m done. I’m fed up with you playing the knight in shining armor, pretending you’re swooping in to keep me safe, when all you really want to do is toss me on the bed and fuck me. ”
I blink. “What?”
“That’s all you want. I turned you down, and it’s bugged you all these years, and now you want to fuck me so you can put me in my place. The least you can do is be honest about it.”
I stare at her. She stares back, breathing heavily.
I move closer to her. Her eyes widen, and she backs away. I continue to close the gap, and eventually she meets the wall behind her.
I walk until I’m right up close to her, forcing her to look up. Hot tears burn in her eyes.
“Just do it,” she whispers. “Go on. Isn’t that the point of all this? Then everything can go back to normal.”
“Nothing’s ever going to be normal again,” I say in a low voice. “When you said yes to marrying me, you changed everything. You really think one fuck is going to cure this… this fever inside me?”
I take her chin in my hand and force it up so she’s looking me in the eyes.
“This isn’t about me,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
I brush my thumb over her bottom lip, aching to kiss her. “This is about you, and all the things I want to do to you, and with you. You won’t be able to walk away from me after that.”
Bending my head, I crush my lips to hers.
I’ve kept my desire reined in before, but this time, I let it free.
My mouth sears across hers, taking rather than asking, demanding she comply and give herself to me.
She gasps, and I take the opportunity to slide my tongue into her mouth and kiss her deeply.
She places both hands on my jacket, pushes, and tries to say something, but I’m too fired up by the feel of her against me.
Her hands curl around my lapels. And then all of a sudden, she’s pulling, not pushing.
Her tongue is thrusting against mine. Joy fills me as I realize she’s kissing me back. And heat billows between us.
I slide my arms around her, pulling her against me, and she moans and slides her hands up, lifting them around my neck.
She’s tall enough to do this, and I can feel her breasts pressed against my chest. I move my hands down to her ass, unable to resist the urge to squeeze the firm muscles there, and I lift her just a little, so I can nestle my erection against her mound.
“Oh God,” she whispers, sliding her hands into my hair and tightening her fingers on it. “God help me, but I want you.”
I want her too. But I can’t have her. It’s not time. This is why I stayed away.
I tear my mouth from hers, and we stare at each other, our chests heaving.
“We’re not doing this,” I say. My voice is thick with lust. “Not yet.” I cup her face and brush my thumb over her cheek. “Three days, Wren. And then, after Saturday, I won’t stop.”
She drops her head and rests her forehead on my shoulder. “I don’t know what you do to me,” she whispers.
Emotions whirl through me: frustration, excitement, desire, and relief. She wants me. I wasn’t sure if that was the case.