Chapter Forty
Gigi
W aking up cuddling with Marcus felt good. Too good. He was warm, and his arm around me felt like I was protected by a big wall of man.
I dig through my suitcase for my clothes. We are all going into town today to have lunch and see what the shops have going on. When I Googled Lee, I was excited to see the cute main street strip.
Marcus comes out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around him like a woman, covering his chest. I try to contain my giggle, but it’s a lost cause.
“Prince.” Laughter slips out. “Why are you wearing your towel like that?”
He scowls at me. “I forgot to take clothes in with me and wanted to be decent.”
I cross the room as he goes to his suitcase. I stop at the bathroom door, turning around to see the curve of his perfect ass giving me a teasing glimpse from under the towel.
“Your ass looks pretty decent from here, prince.”
He turns back to look at me, then twists to look at his backside. He rolls his eyes and holds the towel to him. “Go get ready, Genevieve, and leave my ass out of it.”
I laugh and close the bathroom door behind me.
We had a great lunch at a little diner on the outskirts of town, and now we’re slowly going in and out of shops. Marcus’s dad stayed back at the house, and I’m not mad about it. Everyone has been in a lighter mood, and I’m sure if his dad had joined us, it would have been a struggle.
We walk into a small jewelry shop and Marcus looks like his skin is crawling while his mom oohs and awes over the selection of necklaces. I’m looking at the bracelets when he walks to my side. An employee comes up to the case.
“If you would like to see anything, let me know.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
They begin to walk away when Marcus stops them. “There’s something I’d like to see, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, which one?” They unlock the display.
Marcus points at a gold bracelet with a small tiara charm attached. I hadn’t even noticed it, distracted by some of the bolder pieces. “That one there.”
The employee pulls it from the case, setting it on the glass. Marcus takes it out of the velvet box. “Let me see your wrist, princess.”
I hold out my left arm, and he places it around my wrist, closing the clasp. He adjusts it so the charm is visible.
“Do you like it?”
I look at the charm sparkling with clear stones. “I love it.”
Marcus turns back to the employee. “We’ll take it.” He digs out his wallet, handing them his card.
“Prince, you don’t need to do this.”
He lifts my arm, placing his lips on the inside of my wrist. “But it looks too perfect on you to leave it behind.”
I look into his eyes, and he smiles. Fuck, that smile gets me every time. Having a moment of courage, I raise on my toes, placing my hand on his jaw and kiss him. “Thank you.”
He tucks a curl behind my ear. “You’re welcome. Just make sure you wear it every day.”
“I will.”
He nods and signs the receipt. I rub the chain in between my fingertips, not being able to take my eyes off the charm. I might want to cry; a man has never bought me jewelry.
Everyone is in the kitchen, all of us given a duty by Marcus’s mom to get dinner ready. His family has such an odd dynamic. The two boys are so close, they treat their mom like a queen and she’s so sweet with them, then their father exists on the outside. Like he’s here, but he’s not. And every time he enters a room, everyone’s demeanor changes. It’s almost hard to keep up with.
We place the last dishes of food on the table and everyone sits down when Billy Bob enters the room.
“Dinner smells good, Claire.”
“Thank you, dear. Everyone helped.”
“Gigi, too?” He looks at me.
Claire smiles at me. “She made the mashed potatoes.”
“I see.”
“Are you surprised that I can boil potatoes, Mr. Holt?”
“Cooking is an important skill.”
“For a wife?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
Marcus places his hand on my thigh and squeezes. I’m sure he’s trying to tell me to pipe down, but fuck this guy.
“Do you need to see my sewing skills, too? I can sew a button on a shirt like a professional.”
“Gigi—” Marcus warns.
“Claire, pass me the wine, please.” She grabs the bottle from the center of the table and pours him a glass. “Sewing doesn’t really matter, but cooking will keep a man happy.”
My leg shakes under Marcus’ hand.
“Should I sit and be quiet, too?” If I could throw flames with my eyes, I would right now.
He leans on the table. “No need to be quiet if you have something of value to say.”
Marcus’s hand squeezes around my thigh again, this time harder. Before I can respond, Dominic interrupts. “Dad, men and women share responsibilities now. You’re acting like it’s nineteen-fifty.”
“I think more marriages would survive if men and women stuck to what they are good at.”
Oh. My. God. I hope Marcus is ready to hold me back because I’m two seconds from diving across this table.
“Mr. Holt—”
“Dad, all due respect, but that’s not what I’m looking for in a partner. I can cook and can sew my own buttons. And it’s a bit archaic of you to think gender roles are the issue with marriages that end in divorce.” He maintains eye contact with his father as his hand slowly moves up my thigh, just under my dress, and I feel his hand grasp the skin on the inside of my thigh, just inches from my underwear. Holy fuck. I feel goosebumps cover me, and I’m suddenly distracted by the sensation.
He turns his head to look at me, smile on his face, eyes intense. “Gigi will make a perfect wife one day.”
He runs his finger up and down the delicate skin under my skirt, and I feel my breathing pick up. If he moved his fingers just an inch higher, he would brush against my wet panties.
“Thank you, prince.”
He nods, kissing my jaw, then gently slapping the skin of my thigh before removing his hand. I work hard to control my response, because fuck, I’m so turned on by my fake boyfriend right now.