4. Party On You
PARTY ON YOU
Desire.
Rory.
My heart was in my fucking ass.
I played it cool at brunch and with Marlon at the bar, but inside?
Panic.
Pure fucking panic.
If my father even dreamed I slept with his business partner, my ass was grass. And not just regular grass—freshly cut, bagged, and thrown straight in a fucking dumpster grass.
Especially after Jason.
God, I swore I’d learned my lesson after that mess. I swore I’d stop letting myself fall into these reckless ass situations.
Yet here I was again.
How do I keep getting myself into this shit?
The wine industry was not even that big here and my father knew every businessman worth knowing in this city, so I should’ve connected the dots sooner.
But business partner?
I should’ve read his damn business card because that was a curveball.
How the hell had I never run into Marlon Sinclair before?
The man’s name alone carried weight in wine circles and was always tied to my father.
And now tied to me.
I was so tempted to ask more. I thought about leaning in at the table and playing the role of clueless daughter, probing about how well they knew each other, why he never came around, and what my dad thought of him.
But I knew better.
Any interest I showed would’ve lit a red flag so bright even my clueless father would’ve caught it.
So I kept my mouth shut. Smiled when I needed to, laughed at the right times, and stayed cool.
Fuck me.
And the worst part was I liked him.
He was exactly my type.
Older, confident, controlled.
He had that quiet kind of power that felt amazing pinning me down.
Damn it.
The smart thing to do would be to hush up, let it go, and bury the whole thing deep. Keep it between us and never breathe a word of it again.
But inside? I wondered.
I wondered if there might be a possibility of keeping this alive.
Quiet, sure.
Hidden, of course.
Something thrilling and forbidden that only existed behind closed doors. A secret I could taste but never name.
But I guess I’ll never know.
Because Mr. S was avoiding me at the launch party like the damn plague.
“So.”
Orim leaned close, her breath tickling my ear as I watched Marlon. “Not only is he your dad’s business partner, he’s also his friend? Girl. How the hell did you miss that?”
I sighed and took another sip of the new wine they were launching. “I don’t know. I know the name, but not the face. He never comes around.”
Orim arched her brow.
“Well, it’s not that surprising. My dad says Marlon Sinclair’s a social shut-in. He barely makes public appearances. I’m shocked he’s even here.”
“Apparently, my dad begged him,” I muttered. “For this launch, Daddy said Marlon curated the whole thing. Like, handpicked every bottle, every label, every flower on the damn tables. I think I remember him showing me, but I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Mm-hmm,” Orim smirked, swirling her drink. “Bet you wish you’d paid attention now.”
I mimicked her voice under my breath and rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”
She snickered, unbothered yet amused.
I scanned the crowd again, pulse hitching when I found him near the stage. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, tailored to perfection, his posture straight, but his face unreadable.
Our eyes met, barely. His gaze brushed mine for half a second before sliding away, facing a man and engaging in a conversation like nothing.
The man who had me on his sheets, coaxing orgasm after orgasm less than twenty-four hours ago now couldn’t stand to look at me.
I bit the inside of my cheek, heat crawling up my neck.
It stung more than I wanted to admit.
That man put me in a hog tie and fucked me so hard I thought I’d go blind from all that eye rolling. Now he wants to act like it never happened?
“Where are you going?” Orim asked, her brow arched over the rim of her champagne flute.
“I just wanna talk to him,” I said, setting my
glass down.
“Do not.” Orim commanded.
“I deserve a conversation.”
“You don’t.”
“I do! I absolutely do.”
“Rory, babe,” she said, trying to sound serious but failing. “It’s just limerence. You’re obsessed with the idea of that man. You barely know him to be this upset.”
I brushed her off. “I’ll be right back.”
She gave me that girl ‘don’t do it look’, but I was already slipping away through the crowd.
The room pulsed with low music and chatter, and noise that made rich people sound even richer.
My heels clicked against the marble as I headed towards him near the exit. It seemed like he’d try to ghost out early because he had a stride that said ‘Do Not Follow.’
So naturally, I followed.
Even when he wasn’t looking at me, he had my attention. My pulse thudded harder than I cared to admit as I followed him out into the quieter hallway.
“Mr. Sinclair,” I said, straightening my shoulders. “Good evening.”
He turned slightly at the sound of my voice but his expression didn’t change.
“Ms. Rodriguez,” he said evenly. “May I help you with something?”
I stepped closer, resting my hand lightly on his arm. “Yes, actually. You can.”
His gaze dropped to where my fingers touched him, and I instantly remembered he doesn’t like to be touched.
I pulled my hand back like I’d been caught doing something indecent.
He rephrased with a faint attitude in his tone. “What can I help you with, Aurora?”
Hearing my full name roll off his tongue sent a shiver down my spine.
Before I could answer, I heard a dominating voice calling out.
“Marlon! There you are. I’ve been looking every— Oh. Hello, Aurora.”
I narrowed my eyes and was able to make out Marcus Dazai’s face in the low light.
“Markie!” I greeted, expanding my arms for our usual embrace followed by air kisses. “How are you? Ah! It’s been ages.”
I was in full on professional mode.
“You know, can’t complain. What about you? You back from prep school?”
He did this every time.
“Yes, Marcus. I’ve been out of prep school for almost eight years.”
His eyes soften on me. “I see.”
Oh Marcus.
Marcus, Marcus, Marcus.
I had a crush on this man since I was twelve. Not that it meant anything to him. One, he’s married. Two, I was literally a child. And three, he works with my father and would never cross that line.
Unlike someone I know.
“What are you doing out here? And with my brother of all people?”
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.
“B-brother?”
“What?” Marcus nudged my shoulder with his while looking at Marlon. “You don’t see the family resemblance?”
I looked between Marcus then Marlon and Marcus again. Marlon’s annoyed scowl dwarfed Marcus’ calm expression.
“No, not really.”
A deep laugh from Marcus had my nipples hardening.
“Not surprising. I keep telling him to lighten up. Stressing makes wrinkles.”
Marlon Sinclair did not have wrinkles.
And even if he did, it was more than that which made them look different. For one, Marcus is very obviously Blasian. Marlon on the other hand just looks fully Black.
But you can’t just ask two men how the fuck are y’all brothers of y’all ain’t even the same damn race fully. So, I pivoted.
“But. You two got different last names.”
“Yeah, well. We got different mamas too.” Marlon finally spoke. “What do you want, Marcus?”
“I came to support you, lil’ brother.” Marcus shrugged like it was obvious. “I told you I wouldn’t forget.”
“The party started two hours ago.”
“I was busy with—”
“You’re always fucking busy. Why did you even bother—”
Not gonna lie, I tuned the rest out. I was too busy fantasizing about a world where the two of them push me into the broom closet and have their way with me. One at a time or all at once.
I didn’t give a shit either way.
“Fine, then! You don’t want my company, I’ll take it elsewhere. Dillon wanted to speak to me anyway. ” Marcus straightened his posture with a huff. “Aurora. You coming with? Carmen should be coming soon.”
I looked at Marlon and I could see he’s praying I say yes and leave.
So, naturally:
“Nah. I wanna finish my conversation with Mr. S. If you don’t mind.”
“Mr. S, huh?” Marcus looks between us. “I see. Well. If I don’t run into you again, have a good night.”
“Good night, Markie.”
We embraced again but this time, I locked eyes with Marlon the entire time. And for added measure I pressed a friendly kiss onto Marcus’ scruffy beard.
It didn’t take a genius to read Marlon and Marcus had a rocky relationship. So it was no surprise the veins in his neck started showing when I did it.
Good. That’s what you get for blowing me off all night.
When we were alone again, I turned to Marlon.
“Markie?” He questioned.
“I give everyone pet names, Marley.”
“No. Absolutely not,” he cringed.
“Don’t like it?” I pouted. “Oh well. We can stick with Mr. S. I like it and it’s tied to good memor—”
His hand went over my mouth and he backed me into a wall. Then, he opened a coat closet and shoved me in.
Finally some action.
“Look,” he stood in front of me. Even though we were almost the same height when I wore heels, he still managed to loom over me. “If you even breathe a word about us—”
“I won’t, jeez.” I held my arms up, careful not to touch him in this tight space.
“Then what do you want from me?”
Moody.
But what did I want from him?
Attention?
I already got that. Might as well push it.
“Well,” I twisted my hair and looked elsewhere like that made it any less awkward. “I wanted to take you up on that offer to spend another evening together. I’m free after this, if you want to keep me company.”
He looked at me like I was insane. Then sighed. “I’m afraid that offer expired at lunch.”
I blinked. “What? Why?”
He cocked an eyebrow, his gaze steady and infuriatingly calm. “Did you forget about your father being my business partner and friend?”
I crossed my arms. “I mean, I already told you I’m not gonna say anything. I don’t see why we can’t continue.”
He groaned quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ms. Rodriguez. While I appreciate your discretion about what we did, I think we both can agree the nature of our relationship has become more nuanced than I’d be comfortable with.”