Chapter 25
it belongs to me
Brooklyn
An unmatched molten flame poured over me, pooling on the floor around my bare feet as I watched the study of temptation that Marco was.
Shirtless with black sweatpants slung low on his waist, my mind flashed back to the time I had found him sitting at the piano, masterfully striking those keys. Now I wished he would use that precision and his long fingers to hit all the right notes on me.
Play me like a musical instrument and make me sing.
Marco stretched his arm, running it through his wet hair. “I sleep on the right side usually.” He turned down the sheet, the muscles in his biceps straining with the motion.
I bit back a smile. He had a side of the bed he favored? “I’ll take the left.” Personally, I flopped into bed and hoped for the best. I had never given it much thought. Besides knowing I didn’t like sleeping near the window all that much.
He gave me a confused look, pausing before getting in on the right side like he so obviously intended on doing. “Is that the side you sleep on?”
I could have told him the truth, which was that I didn’t care one way or another, or I could have made this benefit me somehow. “Sometimes sacrifices need to be made.” Where was the harm in having him think I let him have the right side?
“And sometimes you can’t just throw philosophical shit out there.” Shaking his head and dismissing this conversation, he got into bed, grunting as he stretched out.
Shrugging, I did the same, except I was doing it with more clothes on.
I wore a cami and pants. Sometimes I preferred the warmth socks provided me, but I figured I could always wedge my feet between Marco’s legs when we cuddled.
“The side of the bed makes no difference to me, but I will be making a note of this favor I’m doing you. ”
He gazed up at the ceiling, going through his routine like normal, pulling the sheet up and covering himself. “Fantastic. You do that.”
I, on the other hand, was in no rush to go to sleep.
For whatever reason, I was wired. This was our first night together, and I didn’t know what to expect, but this definitely wasn’t anything I could have foreseen.
“So, what does Marco do before he goes to bed?” Clearly, he ran by a very strict schedule and routine, so I may as well have known what it was.
Then again, maybe this was all for my benefit, and he typically listened to a podcast or read a book or fell asleep with the television on.
All possibilities in my mind. I myself didn’t have any strict regimen before bed.
It was more so whatever I felt like doing in the moment.
Just in the same way I didn’t have a time I liked to be in bed by.
Sneering, he fixed his head on the pillow for the fiftieth time in a short span. “Says his prayers, falls asleep in the middle, and gets up in the middle of the night to take a whizz. Happy?”
“Not what I meant, but okay.” I placed my hands in my lap, pretending to study my nails, which were painted a light pink. They were nice, but not something to stare at or observe.
“Are you really not going to stop talking?” he whispered, his voice a dry burr.
“I’m wide awake.”
“What will make you fall asleep?”
“You putting a shirt on.” My eyes clung to his as I turned my head.
It looked like he was swallowing a laugh before he snickered. “Try again.”
Rolling my eyes, I busied myself with braiding my hair. Maybe the motion would be relaxing and make me sleepy. “How can you sleep like that anyway?”
“My stomach is like a fiery pit of hell,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“Sometimes I sleep with a blanket in the summer.”
“Might want to get that checked out.”
I laughed. “Do you snore?”
“You’ll have to tell me,” he said stiffly, his eyes shifting toward the bedside lamp, probably thinking about how he wanted to shut it off.
I didn’t respond immediately, tossing my braid over my shoulder, knowing it was only going to fall apart because I didn’t have a tie on the bottom to hold it together.
Meanwhile, Marco took it as a sign I was done talking and angled his body to turn off the light.
Mine was already off, so his was the only source of light in the room.
“Marco…” I rolled my lips, watching as he stopped and looked back at me. “How do you not know?”
Cracking his neck, he patted his hand on my knee, and I could still feel his warmth through the fabric. “No one’s ever reported back to me.”
I nodded. “I think I can sleep now.” Literally not at all.
He withdrew his hand, grinning. “Great. Night.”
Next thing I knew, the room was dark, and Marco was flipped on his side, his head on the pillow.
Super. Now what was I supposed to do?
Even if I rolled over, there was no way I was falling asleep.
I felt just as energized as a kid who ate a bowl of sugar for breakfast.
If we were going to have more nights like these, I should probably keep a diary. At least it would give me something to do. Instead of sitting with my thoughts.
Slowly shifting my eyes, I peered over at him. I couldn’t imagine he could fall asleep so quickly. So, by my calculations, he was probably still awake.
“Marco?” I whispered.
No answer.
“Marco?” I tried again.
No answer.
“I peed myself.”
“In my bed?”
I had a feeling that declaration would do the trick, and I had been right. “No. I just wanted to prove that you were up and ignoring me.”
He didn’t move an inch, his head was still buried in the pillow, as though I was going to let him get any sleep while I was still sitting up. “Congratulations, you proved a point that serves as the most useless piece of information you will probably ever have,” he mumbled.
Poking my head onto his side, I noticed he had his eyes closed. He couldn’t honestly want to stay in that position when I had more to talk about. “Want to tell me about your guy time with Dom?”
Still not moving, he grumbled, “It wasn’t guy time.”
I swept hair away from his face that had fallen there with the way his head was angled.
The fresh scent of his shampoo infiltrated my nose, and I inhaled.
So far, I think we were crushing this sharing a bed thing.
I didn’t know why married couples complained about it so often.
We were spending more time together, talking.
In my opinion, this was quality time that couldn’t be beat.
“It was guy time,” I repeated, standing firm in my way of thinking.
Sitting up, he rubbed at his eyes and turned the light back on. “It was business,” he corrected me.
“At a basketball game?” I furrowed my brows. “I don’t think so.”
“Jesus, Brooklyn. Dom had a business offer for me.”
“Really?” I tapered my eyes.
He nodded, instinctively touching the spot where his initial ring usually sat. Instead, it was sitting on the top of his nightstand. “A really good one, actually.” Peering down at it, he seemed to be deep in thought.
I touched the crinkle on his forehead. “Are you thinking about taking him up on it?” I asked, guessing he had already made up his mind.
“It’s not really up to me.” He swung his gaze in my direction. “I mean, it is, but it involves someone else.”
“No more secrets, remember?”
“Bellissima is facing financial hardship, and Dom is worried about it. He brought his concerns to me to see if I would be interested in acquiring it. He thinks it’ll help secure my position as CEO.”
Widening my eyes, I angled my head. Bellissima was one of the largest magazines in the city, and they had made quite an impact on the fashion industry over the years.
Regina Morelli had made sure of that when she had been at the helm.
She also made sure the world knew that women in power could have it all, by growing a family while still working at the level she had been at.
I still remembered reading her eulogy in the paper and was pretty sure I always would be able to recall parts of it.
She had been an icon in every regard and meaning of the word, and had made sweeping, groundbreaking changes to the publishing world.
“Wow. I didn’t see that one coming. Outsiders certainly wouldn’t be able to tell.
I suppose it must be difficult in this economy to get people to hand over their hard-earned money for print media.
” On the other hand, there were other publications I was still subscribed to and received in the mail, mostly out of pure laziness for not wanting to cancel the subscription.
Those had pages and pages of ads. Perhaps it was with Regina’s untimely death things began to shift for the magazine.
Not that anyone would ever know for certain.
He had restless hands as he fussed with the sheet on his side of the bed. “Social media really changed marketing.”
I angled my head, considering his statement. “Well, opening an account is free, and as long as you stick with it and have some consistency, revenue typically follows.” It wasn’t always that easy, but for the most part, that was the way people made it seem.
His pecs flexed as he stuck a hand in his hair. “Doesn’t do much for a print publication, though.”
I swallowed, my eyes transfixed on his hands and movements.
“Right.” I shook my head, my heart racing.
“This must not be easy for Maria or her sisters.” To know they were losing something that their mother had left for them?
To wonder if she would have been disappointed in them?
I couldn’t imagine what they were going through.
“It’s a family affair.”
“What would Regina think?”
“I’m sure that’s another question that’s weighing heavily on their minds.” He sighed, and I knew he was comparing it to his own situation. The two weren’t exactly alike, but there were a lot of similarities.