Chapter 7 Elena #2
"Hey, girly pop!" Becca says when I open the door, but her attention immediately shifts to Marco. "Holy shit! Who are you, handsome?"
My stomach clenches at the way she's looking at him, like she wants to devour him whole.
Marco glances at my expression and steps away from the door. "I'll be in the shower," he announces before disappearing.
"You've been holding out on me," Becca says, pushing into my apartment and heading straight for my wine collection.
I intercept her before she can open anything. "It's two PM on a Thursday, Becca. We're not day drinking while Marco is in the next room."
She grins wickedly. "So we can't talk about him when he's not in earshot? This calls for a girls' night. I'll be back in a few hours, and we'll go to Mazzy's."
Before I can protest, she's already heading for the door, practically vibrating with excitement.
A few minutes later, Marco emerges from my bedroom wearing only a towel around his waist, and I feel my cheeks heat. His dark hair is wet and hanging in his eyes, and when he catches me staring, he smiles knowingly.
The bulge beneath his towel suggests he's probably very popular with women, and my traitorous mind immediately conjures images of him dropping that towel and pushing me up onto my kitchen counter.
"What did your friend want?" he asks, grabbing a glass of water.
"Girls' night," I manage, not trusting myself to look at him directly. "I'll be heading out in a few hours."
"I'll make sure I'm ready."
I whip around to face him. "What do you mean, you'll be ready? You're not coming with us."
"It's not up for debate. You can hang out with your friend but I'm going too."
"I'm sorry—did you not hear the words 'girls' night'?" I walk closer and make a show of looking him up and down. "Is there a vagina hiding under that towel that I should know about? Because last I checked, you're very much not a girl."
He drops the glass on the counter with a decisive thunk. Then he steps forward until we're almost toe to toe. His eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"Does it look like there's a vagina under this towel, Elena?"
My face flames. He just called my bluff and we both know it. "That's not the point."
"No? Then what is the point?" He tilts his head slightly. "Because from where I'm standing, the point is you're trying to get rid of me for a few hours. Not happening."
"The point is girls' night means no men allowed." I refuse to back down even though my heart is hammering. "As in, we're going to talk about tampons and periods and all the things that make guys uncomfortable."
"I have a sister. I'm not uncomfortable."
"Great. Then you won't mind when we spend three hours discussing whether Becca should text her ex back or analyzing every word of some guy's dating app message.
" I tilt my head. "Or maybe we'll rate attractive men we see at the bar.
Compare notes on who has the best ass. You really want to sit through that? "
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. His voice drops lower. "You planning on rating a lot of men's asses tonight, Elena?"
"Maybe." I lift my chin defiantly. "That's kind of what girls do on girls' night. Appreciate the scenery."
"Appreciate all you want." He leans in just slightly. "But I'll be right there making sure the scenery doesn't try to appreciate you back."
My mouth opens but nothing comes out. How does he keep winning these exchanges?
"Not up for debate," he says again. This time his tone makes it absolutely clear the conversation is over.
I huff out a breath and stalk toward my bedroom. He met every single one of my arguments and somehow made me feel like I lost ground instead of gaining it.
Fine. If he wants to watch me flirt with other men, I'll give him a show he won't forget.
A few hours later, Becca returns looking stunning in her usual barely-there outfit. Her petite, toned body always makes me feel self-conscious about my curves, but tonight I'm determined not to let it bother me.
Marco drives us to Mazzy's in complete silence.
I expect him to follow us inside and hover over our table like some kind of bodyguard.
But when we walk through the door, he surprises me by heading straight to the bar.
He takes a seat at the far end with a clear view of the entire place and orders a drink.
He's... giving me space?
I glance back at him as Becca pulls me toward a high-top table. He catches my eye for just a second before deliberately looking away. Like he's making a point of not watching me too closely.
Huh.
"Earth to Elena." Becca waves her hand in front of my face. "You gonna tell me who the stud is or do I have to guess?"
I force my attention back to her. "I'll get us drinks first. What do you want?"
At the bar, I'm hyperaware of Marco sitting just a few seats down. He doesn't look at me. Doesn't acknowledge my presence at all. Just sips his whiskey and watches the room like he's here on his own business.
When I return with our drinks, Becca immediately launches into her interrogation.
"So. Who is he? And why haven't I heard about him? And how many times a day are you fucking him?"
"We're not—" I start.
"Because if you're not, can I?"
The question hits me wrong. A sharp spike of something possessive and territorial that I have absolutely no right to feel.
"He's a friend of my cousin's husband," I explain carefully. "He needed a place to stay temporarily."
"And the fucking?"
"No. We're not sleeping together."
"But you want to." It's not a question. Becca knows me too well.
"It doesn't matter what I want." I take a long sip of my drink. "It's complicated."
"Complicated how? He's single. You're single. You're both clearly attracted to each other based on the way you were looking at him earlier."
Was I that obvious?
"It's just... he's connected to my family. And there are reasons it wouldn't work." I'm being deliberately vague but Becca doesn't push.
"So I can sleep with him then?"
"No." The word comes out sharper than I intended.
She grins like she just won something. "Thought so."
I want to argue. Want to tell her she's wrong and I have no claim on Marco Conti whatsoever. But the truth is sitting heavy in my chest—I don't want anyone else touching him. Don't want to imagine some other woman running her hands over that chest or hearing the low rumble of his voice in the dark.
Which is completely insane because he's not mine. He's my babysitter. My warden. The man currently ruining my life by camping out in my apartment.
I glance toward the bar without meaning to. Marco's watching me now. His eyes lock onto mine across the crowded space and something electric passes between us. Heat and challenge and unspoken want that makes my stomach flip.
I tear my gaze away.
Several drinks later, I'm feeling pleasantly buzzed. The bar is packed now. Bodies pressed together on the dance floor. The bass thumping through the floor.
I catch Marco's eyes again from across the room. He's still at the bar but he's not pretending to ignore me anymore. He's watching openly now. His expression dark and unreadable.
"I need to dance," I announce suddenly. "Or find a cute guy to flirt with. Something. Anything that's not..."
"Not him?" Becca finishes knowingly.
"Time to dance," I tell Becca, pulling her toward the dance floor.
We start dancing together, laughing and moving to the music. When a sexier song comes on, we get more seductive with our movements. Three attractive men join us, and while none of them compare to Marco—no one ever could, my alcohol induced brain thinks—they're decent enough for my purposes.
The third guy moves behind me, grinding against me as he whispers in my ear. "Hey, beautiful."
He smells good and has rhythm, and I find myself actually enjoying the attention. I glance toward where Marco was standing, planning to gauge his reaction, but he's disappeared.
Oh well. I'm having fun, and I'm not going to let anyone ruin it—not even the brooding man who's taken over my apartment and my thoughts.