Chapter 47
E mma
“Emma? Kitten?”
The raspy sound of Marcus’s voice jolts me awake, and I jump to my feet, nearly knocking over the chair I’d fallen asleep in.
“You’re awake! Thank God, finally.” I seize his right hand in both of mine, so overcome with relief I barely register the pain in my back. “How are you feeling?”
He blinks up at me slowly, and I know that he’s still connecting the dots, wondering why my eyes are wet yet I’m smiling. But that confusion is normal, expected. The important thing is that after eighteen hours of not regaining consciousness, Marcus is awake and knows who I am.
“What…” He dampens his dry lips as I perch on the edge of his bed. “What happened?” His gaze sharpens. “Wait. The cab. Are you—”
“I’m fine. Here, drink this.” Releasing his hand, I hold a cup of water with a straw to his mouth and watch him take a big sip, the muscles in his powerful throat working as he swallows.
My chest squeezes at the sight, my joy so intense it verges on agony.
With a heavy stubble covering his lean cheeks, the right side of his jaw swollen, and a huge white bandage wrapped around his head, he looks as terrible as a man that magnetic can look, but he’s awake and functioning.
He’s going to be all right.
“What happened?” he repeats when he’s had his fill of water. His voice sounds like his throat has been rubbed with sandpaper, but his blue eyes are clear and sharp as he takes in the cast on his left arm and all the IVs and monitors hooked up to him.
I set the cup of water down on the bedside table. “Tell me how you feel first.”
“Like my skull’s been sawed open and filled with broken glass.” He touches the bandage on his head with his uninjured hand, wincing when his fingers brush over his swollen jaw. “Also like I’ve been hit by a car. Is that what happened?”
“Yes.” I take a breath to steady myself.
“You pushed me out of the way of that cab and took the full impact yourself. In the process, you broke your arm and split your head open on the pavement. You’re also bruised and scraped all over.
The doctors said…” My voice is beginning to shake, my throat closing up, so I drag in another breath.
“They said it was a miracle there were no internal injuries or other broken bones, and that they didn’t think you sustained any brain damage, though after the first few hours, they started getting concerned that you weren’t waking up.
” I squeeze my eyes shut to contain the tears, but it’s a futile effort.
They leak out from under my closed eyelids, and when I open my eyes, I find Marcus gazing at me tenderly.
“What about you, kitten?” Pushing a button to raise the bed to a half-sitting position, he lays a gentle hand on my knee. “Were you hurt? I pushed you pretty hard.”
A half-sob, half-laugh bubbles up my throat. “Yeah, you basically tackled me football-style. Did you play that in college or something?”
“No, just in high school. Freshman year. Afterward, I switched to lacrosse and soccer. I figured all that head-bumping couldn’t be too good for the brain, and I needed every neuron for the future I had planned.” He grins; then worry returns to his eyes. “So were you hurt?”
I shake my head, a watery smile touching my lips.
“No, not really. I hit the ground pretty hard, but my back is only a little sprained and bruised. The shock was the worst of it; they kept feeding me sugary liquids in the ambulance so I wouldn’t pass out or throw up again.
” My smile fades, and I swallow as my throat swells up again.
“They said you might’ve saved my life. With how fast that cab was going and the angle he was coming at me from—” My voice cracks.
“And you could’ve also been killed, or gotten severely injured.
If you’d hit your head any harder or fallen a different way…
” A shudder ripples down my spine. “Never do this to me again, you hear me?” I grip his hand, the remembered fear chilling my insides.
“Promise me, Marcus. Promise you’ll never do something this crazy again. ”
His jaw flexes. “I can’t. When I saw that car coming at you and realized it wouldn’t be able to stop…
” He squeezes his eyes shut, his fingers tightening on mine as he relives what must be a horrible memory.
And I know exactly how he feels. I will never get the image of him lying unconscious and bleeding out of my mind, never forget how I felt in those terrifying moments before I felt his pulse and knew he was alive.
If I’d lost him, if he’d been killed because of me…
God, I can’t even imagine that agony; the mere thought of it is so painful it’s like having my soul ripped apart.
“Marcus…” I wait for him to open his eyes, then ask in a strained voice, “Why didn’t you give your presentation? The man who came running after you said you just left, walked out of there with no explanation to anyone.”
His gaze darkens. “Why do you think? Kitten, about that PI report…” He pulls his hand away and presses the button to sit more upright. “I didn’t do it out of evil intent, I swear.”
I take a breath and slowly let it out. “Why did you do it then?” I’ve been so worried about him I’ve scarcely given those files any thought, but now that I know he’s going to be all right, the pain of betrayal is returning, though it’s nowhere near as sharp as before.
Having faced the specter of losing him— really losing him—I know that no matter what he tells me, I’m not going to walk away.
“Why?” Marcus repossesses my hand, his fingers curling tightly around mine.
“Because I wanted you, Emma. Because when you sent me away after that broken-door evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I tried.
I worked, I ate, I slept, I exercised, I went out with friends and business colleagues, but all of that was done on autopilot, because the entire time, all I could think about was you.
When you texted me, sent me that ‘Hey,’ it was like my world flipped from shades of gray to HD color.
But then you said you didn’t mean to text me, implied you were seeing someone else, and I…
” His jaw clenches. “Well, I went kind of batshit.”
“Like you did with Ian?” I ask wryly, and he nods, though there’s no trace of answering amusement on his face.
“Like that,” he says grimly. “Only worse, because you weren’t yet mine—and I knew that if I didn’t do something, I may never have known what it would be like if you were.”
“So you, what… commissioned this report?”
“Yes.” His gaze is unwavering. “There’s a PI I use to keep tabs on important executives at the companies we invest in.
I’d never had him investigate anyone I dated before, but after that text, I had to know if you were, in fact, seeing someone—and more importantly, what I could do to win you back.
” He draws in a breath, then says bluntly, “I needed to know what makes you tick, kitten, and short of outright stalking you, this was the only way.”
“Wow.” Pulling my hand out of his grasp, I get up and start to pace, my thoughts tumbling like clothes in a dryer.
There’s so much to unravel here, so many layers of conflicting emotions to dig through.
What Marcus did is horribly wrong, the invasion of my privacy deplorable.
It’s also frightening that he could do that—both that he had the means and that he was willing to go that far to get what he wanted.
Which was me.
And that’s what complicates matters… because I can’t say I’m sorry he got his way. If he hadn’t come at me with all those perfectly selected gifts, if he hadn’t been so ruthless and persistent, I might’ve found the strength to stay away from him—and then we wouldn’t be here today.
I would’ve never known the terrifying, exhilarating high of being in love with this man.
He watches me pace with the intensity of a cat tracking a stray lizard, and I know it’s because he decided that this is the best approach, that he needs to give me time to process these revelations.
Even now, his devious mind is working on a way to spin this situation, to turn it to his advantage so he can get what he wants.
Which, presumably, is still me.
“What else?” I demand, stopping in front of the bed. “Is there more I should know?” He hesitates for a long moment, and an incredulous laugh escapes my throat. “There is, isn’t it? What is it?”
A muscle flexes in his jaw. “I may have delayed your plane the day you were flying to Florida. Also, I asked a realtor to speak to your landlady about putting the townhouse on the market, and more recently, I arranged for Weston Long to buy it.”
I’m so stunned I sink onto the bed, my knees buckling underneath me. “For God’s sake, why?”
His blue eyes glint fiercely. “The plane, because I was stuck in traffic and couldn’t have caught you in the airport otherwise.
And the townhouse, because…” His chest rises and falls on an unsteady breath.
“Because I’m crazy, madly, obsessively in love with you, kitten…
to the point that I can’t bear the thought of spending a night apart.
I want you with me every moment of every day.
I want to fall asleep with you in my embrace and wake up to the smell of your hair on my pillow; I want to see your smile over breakfast every morning and talk to you at dinner every night.
You’re my addiction, my obsession, my reason for existing—and there’s nothing I won’t do to earn your love.
Emma, kitten…” He grips my hand again. “I love you, and I want you to marry me. I want you forever in my life.”
My mouth works, but no words come out, my chest feeling like it’s about to burst. The stark longing in his voice, the unconcealed vulnerability in his gaze—it undoes me completely, cutting through the tangle of conflicting emotions like scissors through a knot.
Marcus wants to marry me. He loves me. Really, truly loves me—so much so he jumped in front of a car to save me…
and before that, crossed all sorts of lines to get us where we are.
And in hindsight, what did I expect? Would a man as ruthless as this leave something as important as matters of the heart to chance?
Did I honestly think he’d meekly hang back in the hopes that I’ll work through my insecurities before the end of the next decade?
No, that’s not how Marcus Carelli operates. He goes after what he wants, and the more he wants it, the harder he fights for it.
I was right to picture him as a modern-day pirate.
He is—and I’ve been his desired loot all along.
“Emma.” His eyes narrow, his grip on my hand tightening. “Kitten, say something.”
I force my paralyzed tongue into action. “What about your criteria? Don’t you want to marry some glamorous, sophisticated socialite? Someone who knows all about the latest fashions and politics and can—”
“No.” There’s utter certainty in his voice. “That’s what I thought I wanted, but I was wrong. There was only one criterion that ever truly mattered to me, only one thing I wanted my future wife to be.”
“And what’s that?”
“My family. Someone I can count on.” He pauses, then adds softly, “A woman unlike my mother.”
My heart squeezes to the size of a pinprick, my lungs stalling as tears prickle at the back of my throat again.
Marcus hasn’t talked much about his childhood, only dropping hints here and there, but it doesn’t take much imagination to picture what it was like.
His mother had been an alcoholic, he’d told me, a twenty-four-seven drunk.
Of course he couldn’t count on her; whatever love she had for her son would’ve been swamped by her addiction to the bottle.
No wonder he’d embraced my grandparents so eagerly. Whereas I’ve always had their love to sustain me, he’s never had anything close to an actual family, to people he could rely on and trust.
Looking at him now, at this gorgeous, powerful man I’ve always viewed as being out of my league, I realize for the first time that I can be what he needs.
I can give him love and family… and the entirety of my heart.
He’s watching me keenly, waiting for my answer, so I drag in a breath and say, “You know I come with cats, right? It’s three of them now, but I may want to adopt more in the future. There are so many in shelters that could use a good home. And I may want to get a dog or two one day as well.”
His eyes flare with banked triumph, but his voice is even. “The more, the merrier. Fill the entire penthouse with pets if you want. Hell, I’ll buy you a bigger one—a mansion, a castle, an island… We’ll have an entire zoo if you’re so inclined.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I was half-joking about more pets, but I’m glad to hear he’s on board. “What about kids?” I ask. “I think I want three.”
“Done.” His gaze turns scorching hot. “Let’s start on the first one right away.”
“Wait,” I yelp as he pulls me to him, his strength undiminished by his injuries. “Marcus, wait, you’re hurt, and the doctors—they’ll be here at any moment. Also”—I brace my hand on his pillow, keeping our lips from joining—“I need to tell you something.”
He stills, wariness stealing into his eyes. “What is it?”
I push on the pillow, forcing him to let me sit up straight.
Laying my palm on his knee, I say steadily, “I love you, Marcus. I have since before Florida. When you left me that Sunday, it felt like you ripped out a piece of my heart, and I’ve been afraid of getting hurt ever since.
But I’m not anymore. I was going to tell you that when you came home after your presentation—and I’m so, so sorry you couldn’t give it because of me. ”
An achingly tender smile blooms on his face. “Kitten, I—”
“No, wait, let me finish.” I take a breath. “I love you, Marcus, and I want to be with you—but I’m not okay with what you’ve done. If we’re to get married, I need you to promise that you’ll never again spy on me or manipulate my life in any way. Can you do that? Can you make me that promise?”
His eyes burn tiger bright. “Yes, my sweet. As long as you promise never to leave me—and marry me before the end of the year.”
“What?” My jaw falls open. “Today is December 17th!”
“I know.” Ruthlessly, he draws me closer.
“The end of the year is two weeks from now!”
His lips brush over mine. “I know.”
“Marcus, we really need to talk about—”
He claims my lips with a deep, mind-stealing kiss, and by the time he lets me come up for air, his heart rate monitor is beeping, bringing the nurses in.