Chapter 5
Carissa
Tesoro mio. Lightning strikes through me as he calls me what I’m pretty sure is an Italian endearment. When his fingers brush against mine, a dangerous storm brews in my heart.
This man…
I’ve never felt this seen, or heard, or understood, by another person in my life. He watches me intently, noting every small thing I say, and even what I don’t say. He listens when I speak. Urging me to finish my thoughts. Beneath his gaze I feel important, maybe even precious.
Our appetizers haven’t even arrived and already I feel like we’ve been talking for hours. Like we know each other. So much for easing into heavier topics. There’s been no small talk, and I’m honestly okay with that. Marcus is intense, but he’s also genuine.
This is unlike any first date I’ve ever been on before. Not that I have much to compare it to.
I smile at him, letting my fingers entwine with his. He not only knows about my father’s difficulties, but understands them. Yet he hasn’t gotten up and walked out on our date. I’ve even admitted to not wanting to be a parent. For many men, that’s a dealbreaker.
And Marcus knows what I look like. I’m sitting right here. And all I’ve seen in his dark gaze is appreciation. Maybe even desire.
Who is this man? Can he really be this perfect?
Another red flag for men is when I tell them I want a bunch of rescue animals. They immediately picture me as the crazy cat lady and make their excuses to leave. Without giving me a chance to explain.
I don’t want to be overrun with creatures. Just growing up the way I did, we never had a pet. I’d like two or three cats and maybe a dog. To give them a good, happy home after they’ve been abandoned—or worse. I have a soft spot for helpless little creatures.
Our new server appears, bringing the wine and appetizers. It was silly of me to order the salad. Marcus saw right through that and while not correcting me—or ordering for me—he simply filled the table with decadent treats. Giving me the option to take them or leave them at my discretion.
The single most important thing I don’t feel from him is judgement. He’s indulgent, attentive, and perceptive. A dangerous combination in a man.
I wonder if he’s the same way in bed.
Clenching my thighs to relieve the sudden hot ache, I take the offered wine and try to clear my head of filthy thoughts. Though it’s a real challenge because everything about Marcus screams man. I want him to touch me just so I know what it feels like to be embraced by such masculine perfection.
We indulge in the appetizers, which include everything from roasted oysters, to salty caviar, to little crackers with jam and cheese. I moan around each bite. I’ve never had food this delicious in my life. This isn’t even food, it’s a party for my tastebuds.
Marcus’s gaze only grows more intense as we eat, constantly sweeping over my features. The tiniest of grins appears at my every moan. He seems transfixed. By me.
In the morning I’m going to wake up to find that this was all a dream, aren’t I? I don’t even care. Best dream ever. Worth the daylight disappointment.
“Try this.” Marcus picks up a piece of blackened shrimp and smothers it in the jam. He hovers it in front of my mouth. When I try to take it from him, he shakes his head. “Open for me.”
It’s a good thing I’m sitting, because my legs just turned to jelly. Him saying that in his deep, velvety voice? Panty melting.
Pulse skittering, I open my mouth. He teases the treat between my lips. On impulse, I swirl my tongue around the offering and watch his gaze darken with pure, scorching lust.
When I close my mouth, he plucks the tail from the shrimp, then watches me chew. His eyes hooded.
“Is it good?” His voice comes out thick with desire.
I nod, my cheeks flaming.
Swallowing, I decide I need a break, just a quick one before I spontaneously combust right in front of this alluring man. This is by far the hottest date I’ve ever experienced.
“Excuse me.” I stand and glance around. “Do you know which way to the restroom?”
He stands as well, a perfect gentleman. “That way. Around the corner.”
“Thank you.” With slow, measured steps, so I don’t look like I’m running away, I weave through the crowd. At the end of a long hallway, I find the women’s restroom.
I allow myself a few minutes to breathe. Though the short time away from Marcus hardly helps to clear my head. He’s so gorgeous and a great listener, and I’m getting my hopes up much too high. Because this can’t be a real, lasting thing, can it? We’ve only just met.
What if I blow this? I can’t come off as too clingy. Or too direct. Maybe he’s only interested in a one night stand.
I wish I wasn’t so flustered. But I can’t help it with this amazing man. He seems so perfect.
Pulling myself together, I steel my spine and prepare to go back out there. To face him, to fall into his intense gaze and hope he puts his hands on me tonight. Something I’ve never wanted on a first date before.
I’m tempted to text Miranda, but I don’t feel like sharing this with anyone else yet. Besides, I don’t know how this date will turn out in the end. I’d hate to tell her it’s so amazing right now, only to later turn it into a disaster story if this goes sideways. My pride can’t take the hit.
I exit the restroom and walk along the long, dimly lit hallway with my head in the clouds. I’m not really a pessimist. Which is why I have to keep my optimism under control at times. Otherwise, I’ll float off—
A large, rough hand clamps over my mouth. My eyes widen as shock ripples through me. I release a muffled scream. Then I’m hauled through a nondescript door, into a supply closet.
“You got me fired, you stupid bitch,” an angry masculine voice hisses in my ear. He has one hand over my mouth and the other pins my body to his chest.
Dread splashes over me like boiling oil. I can’t see his face, but somehow I know it’s the server from earlier this evening. The one who kept checking me out in front of my date. I thought his shift ended, not that he’d been fired. How is that my fault, anyway?
“If you scream, I’ll kill you.” He shoves me against the wooden shelves. His hand finds my thigh and roughly slides up under my dress.
Realizing what he intends to do, I whimper. If I fight back, he’ll only make it more painful. This isn’t the first time…
I screw my eyes shut and try to imagine myself elsewhere. Tune out the sickening feel of his hands on my flesh. His breath in my ear. The way the shelves dig into my ribs hard enough to bruise.
I’m so focused on getting out of my body, that I don’t hear the door open, or notice right away when the man’s no longer crushing my body with his. A gurgling sound reaches my ears first. Then the sharp scent of iron.
Breath hitching, I spin around in the confined space and another wave of horror grips my chest in a vise.
Marcus stands behind my attacker, dark eyes blazing, as he finishes cutting the other man’s throat. There’s blood literally everywhere. Wet stickiness in my hair and on my dress. Even so, I don’t scream. I don’t even move. All I can do is stare.
Marcus lets the man’s body fall to the floor. Almost casually, he cleans the knife before pocketing it, his intense gaze never leaving me.
“Carissa. Tesoro.” He steps closer, until he’s blocking my view of the dead man.
I gaze up at him. He’s a killer.
A toxic swirl of emotions and thoughts spin through me like a tornado. Fear. Uncertainty. Rage.
How dare that stranger trap me in a supply closet to assault me?
Is he really dead? Or is what I witnessed a daydream? Wishful thinking.
I should be afraid of Marcus because of what he’s done… But I’m not.
Before I know it, my arms wrap around Marcus’s neck and I crush my lips to his. He only hesitates a second, then he kisses me back.
I melt against his hard body, seeking refuge in his strong arms. He holds me like he never wants to let me go. When his tongue glides against my lips, I open for him, and our tongues taste each other. He’s all sweet bourbon and vengeance.
I start to tremble, the aftershocks of adrenaline. Marcus nips at my lip as he pulls back.
“We need to leave,” he says in a soft, steady tone meant to soothe.
I can’t form words yet, so I nod.
Then he lifts me in his arms as if I weigh nothing and carries me along the hallway to a back door. A car idles in the dark alley.
Either he’s rescuing me, or I’ll be dead before the night’s through. A silenced witness to a gruesome crime. Though, tell me I’m crazy, because I can barely call what he did a crime.