Chapter 7 Esmerelda
ESMERELDA
They say time flies when you’re having fun, but what about when you’re forced to vacation with your sworn enemy and time still flies?
Despite missing Min and my family, the time does whizz by.
I can’t remember the last time I truly had time away for some R&R.
It’s just a pity the majority of that time was spent with Marcus, who hasn’t grown any less annoying as the days passed.
Even the way he chews annoys me. I mean, seriously, who chews mashed potatoes?
The only time Marcus didn’t annoy me was when he was in wolf form and couldn’t speak. I snort at that as I stare out the window of the town car on our way to the airport. If I’m being honest, though, there were other times I didn’t find Marcus too annoying.
Like the times we went to the beach and he took his shirt off. I think my brain misfired during those moments, and I couldn’t be more annoyed if I tried.
Chiseled abs. Defined biceps that looked like they were molded from marble. The way his abs rippled whenever he caught me staring at him. Note to self: sunglasses are not an invisibility cloak.
There were also sweet moments, like when I stepped on a jellyfish and he carried me to the car, where he kept some or other remedy he’d concocted for exactly that.
Or when he opened my door for me. Or pulled out my chair.
In the beginning, he would mutter something about council spies hovering to make sure we did it right, but the lines on his face always seemed softer whenever he did those things for me.
Anyway, it wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be, so there’s that.
Next challenge…married life. Living with him for the rest of my days. An heir.
We pull up next to the jet, and Marcus rounds the car to open my door. He’s been as introspective as me during the ride over. I wonder if his experience was the same as mine.
The staff greet us as we walk over to Marcus’s private jet, his family crest proudly emblazoned on the tail. Oh wait… my family crest now too. That small thought has the breakfast burrito I had this morning clawing up my throat.
I board and head to the back of the plane. I heard somewhere that it’s the safest place to be in the event of an airplane accident. Somehow, it doesn’t seem to me that any place on an aircraft falling from the sky is safest, but I don’t feel like tempting fate today.
Within moments, we’re in the air, and my thoughts drift to more memories of the trip. Am I romanticizing certain things because I was so exhausted from the stress leading up to the wedding that a fruity drink and the sunlight on my face had me under a spell? Or am I getting soft?
I cut a glance at Marcus as he talks to the captain and can’t help but focus on his lips. His mouth is usually so turned down in disapproval that I never really noticed how full they are. Or how kissable.
Since the bonfire, we haven’t spoken about the sort-of-not kiss.
We also haven’t been that close to each other for a mistake like that to happen again.
The thing is, I can’t help wondering what a kiss from Marcus, when intended, would be like.
Not that I want a kiss from Marcus, but I want to be able to prove to myself that I was right about him being a wrung-out noodle with no fire or passion in him.
The pilot nods to me, and we get ready to depart. The cabin crew bring us some champagne and a small bowl of chocolate-covered raisins, which isn’t usually my thing, but I don’t want to be rude.
Marcus swivels his chair to face me. “Now that the honeymoon is over, I think we need to come up with a list of things we are prepared to share and things we won’t when we move in together. First things first, my office is off limits. You may not enter when I’m there or when I’m not there.”
I roll my eyes. Sure, it’s probably a good idea, but can’t he wait until we get home to be all business? Then again, this whole thing is a business arrangement, isn’t it? So, I don’t know why I care.
“Okay, fine. I haven’t thought of any rules yet. When I do, I’ll let you know. What I do want to know is, where are we going to live?”
He reaches into his laptop bag and retrieves a pen and notebook. “I’d like it if we lived at my family home. I already have my research set up there, and it will be an inconvenience to move everything.”
My hackles rise because I also have stuff to move, but then I have to realize that what Marcus has to move is probably ten times the amount I will, if I take into account how he records everything. He probably has a room filled with notebooks as it is.
“All right. But if we’re staying at your home, holidays should be at my family home.”
He looks up from where he’s being studiously jotting down everything I say as if creating a contract. “Surely we should alternate. My family likes going big with the holidays.”
“Perhaps we could try to do holidays at our home instead.”
Marcus’s lip twinges. “Do you think that’s wise?” He takes a small sip of his champagne. During our honeymoon, I’ve noticed how little he drinks.
“Well, maybe they should get a taste of what it will be like for us.”
Marcus raises his glass. “At last, I can agree with that cunning brain of yours.”
We clink glasses and continue discussing the logistics of married life. Eventually, I ask the question I’ve been forcing to the back of my brain since the day we got married.
“What about an heir? Are you really going to be okay with raising a child that isn’t your own?”
His brow furrows, and he’s probably never considered this side of things, but his answer surprises me.
“Any child I raise will be my child, so you don’t have to worry about me treating them differently.
Just because they won’t share my DNA doesn’t mean I’m not their father.
Although, I am willing to donate my own. ”
The air around us crackles with energy the moment his words enter the small space, and my stomach clenches.
Unbidden, thoughts similar to those that assaulted me at the council meeting invade my mind again, and I instantly have an image of Marcus pinning me against a wall as he indeed donates his DNA.
“Um… Y-You will be willing to donate your own?” My voice comes out high-pitched and squeaky, and not at all recognizable as my own.
Marcus shakes his head. “I’m not against IVF or things like that. There are ways to have a biological child together without me fucking you.”
Heat stains my cheeks, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this feeling in the pit of my stomach is disappointment, but I know better, and it’s likely just silly female hormones messing me up.
I should never have seen him without a shirt on.
Or maybe it’s my wolf—she really enjoyed him without a shirt on.
Shit, I need to stop thinking of Marcus without a shirt on. “Can we table this for another time?”
“We can talk about this whenever you’re ready.”
“Whenever I’m ready? Why when I’m ready? Don’t you need to be ready, too?”
He shrugs. “I’m not the one with the uterus.”
The way he brushes this off doesn’t sit right with me. Does he care so little about this union and our future together that he can be so blasé about it all?
I stare into my glass of champagne, watching the bubbles rise and burst, just like my dreams of ever having a genuine family where the father is as involved in the child’s life as I am.
Days at the park or on the beach where we can swing our child’s arms in the air and laugh at his or her little squeals.
“Esmerelda.” Marcus calls my name, and I look at him. “They may have forced us to marry, but I’m definitely not forcing you to do anything with your body that you don’t want to do. No matter what they do, no matter what they threaten, I won’t let them do that to you.”
Shit. Now I really am going to cry. I throw back the champagne and say, “Good. If that’s the case, I need a refill.”
“I’ll get it.” There’s something about his smile that makes me feel like he knows what I was thinking. I can’t decide whether to be impressed or pissed off. I don’t need him feeling sorry for me.
Marcus heads into the galley, and I stare at his empty seat, wondering what to make of all this.
From everything I’ve heard of Marcus, he’s not the most domineering of people, but when it comes to being alpha, he’s the least alpha of them all.
And to be honest, I should find this disdainful, but all I can think of is how safe I feel that Marcus respects me on this.
I shake my head. I’m definitely getting soft. And I can’t afford that when I’m pretty much in bed with the enemy.
Or not, as it were.
After another two glasses of champagne, the pilot announces our descent.
The silence between Marcus and me is heavy.
Neither of us talk about our earlier conversation, but there’s a palpable buzz in the cabin.
I stare at the seatbelt sign, willing it to go off so I can get the hell out of here.
I need to clear my head, and I can’t do that in such close proximity to Marcus.
What do I care if he’d prefer IVF to having sex with me?
It’s not like I want to have sex with him either, anyway.
No matter how many times I’ve thought about it.
The seatbelt light turns off, and I’m up so fast I probably broke a personal record.
If speed could be powered by sheer desperation to get away from awkward sexual tension, I’d be lapping the jet by now.
I don’t want to be rude, but the need for fresh air is suffocating me.
The cabin crew take their time opening the door, and I chance a glance over at Marcus.
My cheeks redden when I see him smirking at me.
All my efforts to rush out of my seat only to be held up at the door make me feel like a real idiot.
The doors finally open, and the first face I see is Min’s.
I’m surprised to see her. Well, not surprised, because when we spoke yesterday, she mentioned she’d be here.
I run down the stairs and throw my arms around her.
I hadn’t realized until this very moment how much I needed to see a familiar face.
A soft giggle I recognize comes from my left, and I end the hug to turn to my mother’s open arms. Behind her, my brothers are smiling, and a lump forms in my throat.
Get it together, Esme. When did you become so weak?
I’m engulfed in a giant group hug that does nothing to curb my surfacing emotions. When I take a step back, I notice Marcus watching me. Silent, composed, aloof. It’s puzzling, but then I notice that the only one to welcome him home is Leonard.
Here’s the thing, as surprised as I was to see my mother and brothers here to greet me, I’m also not surprised.
We all live busy lives, but once a week we get together for dinner at my parents’ home, and we’ve never been apart for this long.
We’re close, and as the weekly dinners can become a bit obligatory, I see the merit in them now.
Mom intertwines her arm with mine. “Darling, how about we all go for lunch? You can get us up to speed.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I turn back to Marcus with a saccharine smile. “Honey, how about you head to the house? You look exhausted. I know for some, jet lag can be a real thing.”
I don’t wait for an answer as I spin on my heel, walk backwards, and give Marcus a cheeky wave. Leonard throws his head back and laughs, whispering something to Marcus, who just shakes his head.
“How does everybody feel about Asian?” Mom asks.
“Sounds right up my alley,” I respond.
I turn to face Marcus one last time and feel guilty for some reason.
Min takes my hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” But my thoughts are still on Marcus and the look in his eyes. Maybe I should’ve invited him to lunch.