Sweet Obsession: Chapter 18

After my shift is over, Marcus drives me back to my apartment quickly so I can pack a bag.

Somehow, me agreeing to sleep over at his place has turned into me staying at his house for the entire weekend while he and the other two men are gone. I don’t quite know how the fuck he managed to talk me into that, but as I shove clothes and a few toiletries into a beat-up gym bag, I can admit to myself that I don’t entirely hate the idea.

Duke let me know as we were closing up that he’d given away my Friday and Saturday night shifts to Carly—which I’m ninety-nine percent sure is because he knows I basically had sex in the bathroom on my “break.” He’s not the type of guy to fire me for something like that, especially since I’ve generally been a good employee. But I think this is his not-so-subtle way of letting me know I’m skating on thin ice.

It sucks to lose the shifts, but it also means I don’t have anywhere I have to be this weekend, since I was off Sunday anyway. And hanging out in Marcus’s fancy as fuck house beats the hell out of spending the weekend holed up in my apartment, hoping I don’t run into Natalie.

“Where are you going?” I ask Marcus as I settle back into the car beside him. My bag rests on the back seat, and his hand finds my leg as soon as I’m settled, his palm skating up and down my thigh.

He grimaces. “It’s fucking stupid. Our parents all host a charity gala in Aspen every year, and they expect us to be there.”

My brows pull together as I look over at him. “For three days?”

“Well, including all the setup and organization, and the dozens of business meetings and lunches and shit that all surround the event, yeah.”

“You don’t sound very excited about it.”

He cuts a glance at me. “Do I look like the kind of guy who enjoys a gala?”

I laugh, resting my hand over his. “No. But to be fair, when I first met you, I didn’t think you were the kind of guy who had a shitload of money either.”

“You know I take that as a compliment.”

“Good. I meant it as one.”

His easy smile makes me smile too. Even though it’s almost impossible to imagine my life without this man in it now, there are still some times when Marcus’s armor seems impenetrable. I like the little moments like this, when he seems completely at ease. I wish there were more of them.

He looks over at me, and I can’t tell if he’s guessed my thoughts or not, but the softness lingers in his eyes. “When I get back, I want to get serious about tracking down your brother, angel. I’ve been lining a few things up, speaking to a couple private investigators. We’ll find a thread and pull on it, okay?”

“Okay.”

I still don’t really believe we’ll get anywhere. I can’t let myself hope too much, or I think it might crush me when it all falls apart. But I like the idea of trying. And for once, with Marcus’s help, I’ll actually be able to do it right. To give it a real shot.

We lapse into silence for the rest of the drive, and when we get to Marcus’s place, he slides out of the car and retrieves my bag from the back before opening my door for me. He takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and leads me through the house and up the stairs to his bedroom.

I half expect him to attack me the second the door closes behind us, to shove me up against it like he did at the bar.

But he doesn’t.

He lays me down gently on the bed and takes his time peeling off every layer of my clothing. Then he tugs his own clothes off and worships me with his hands, mouth, lips, and teeth.

His skin is hot against mine, as if there’s an inferno raging inside him. I can see the tension gathered in his body, feel the restraint it’s taking for him to hold back and go slowly. But he refuses to rush, sliding into me only after he’s peppered every inch of my skin with kisses.

Even the way he fucks me is slow, deliberate, and so deep that I lose track of where I end and he begins.

I fall asleep in his arms, and for the first time in a long time—maybe even my whole life—I feel utterly safe.

The guys have an early flight, so Marcus is up practically before the sun is.

I doze while he showers, and he tells me to stay in bed when he goes downstairs to meet the other two—but he doesn’t complain one bit when I throw on a pair of sweats and a tank top and walk down with him. In fact, he sticks close to my side, as if he doesn’t want to step away from me until he physically has to.

Ryland and Theo are already waiting in the foyer when we get down there. I’m pretty sure the guys all have keys to each other’s places and know the security codes on each other’s alarms and shit. They’re so deep in each other’s lives that it makes sense.

“Ready?” Ryland catches Marcus’s gaze and lifts his chin. He’s wearing a dark blue button up today, and it contrasts nicely with the tattoos that adorn his neck and arms. He shoves his sleeves up a little higher, looking even more hard-edged and powerful than usual.

“Yeah.” Marcus nods.

“Let’s get this fuckin’ thing over with then,” Theo says.

The same bitterness that tinged Marcus’s voice when he talked about it last night seeps into his tone too, and I glance over at him. His messy blond hair is shoved back from his face, and his crooked smile is nowhere to be found.

I wonder why they don’t just tell their families they don’t want to do this shit, but I have a feeling I already know the answer. I gave Ryland a hard time for it once, but the pressure of being part of their families’ businesses probably encompasses a lot more than I gave him credit for.

My job at Duke’s can be a grind, and temp work is boring as fuck—but at least I don’t have to live up to anyone’s expectations but my own. For all three of these men, their families’ expectations and requirements obviously dominate their lives. Even Theo, who seems to be trying the hardest to forge his own path, obviously hasn’t quite managed to get out yet.

Not to say I feel sorry for them for having money. I know it makes so many things so much easier, and it’s what allows them to live the lives they do. But I can see the other side of it more clearly than I used to.

Marcus nods once, then turns to me, pulling me into his arms. “There’s food in the fridge, booze in the liquor cabinet, and every streaming service you could want on the TV. Veg out. Have fun.” He grins slightly, as if he knows exactly what I really want to do. “Poke around all you want. What’s mine is yours.”

The honesty in his voice knocks me back a bit, and before I can think of a response, he captures my face in his large hand and drops his head to kiss me. My body melts against his, and our lips stay pressed together longer than is probably usual for a goodbye kiss. But it still feels too soon when he pulls away, breathing in deeply before letting me go.

My nipples are peaked and hard, my pussy a little wet, and I suddenly feel like I should’ve put on a robe or something before coming downstairs.

Biting my bottom lip, I glance over at Theo and Ryland. “Have a good trip.”

Theo takes a half-step forward, raising a hand as if he’s about to reach for me. Then he stops, curling his fingers into a loose fist instead. He drops his arm back to his side, an expression I can’t read passing over his face before he calls up his easy smile again. “Yeah. We’ll try. Not as much fun as you’ll have, but we’ll do our best.”

Ryland turns and stalks toward the door, as if this goodbye has already gone on several times longer than he wanted it to and he can’t wait to get the fuck out of here. “Let’s go.”

Irritation rankles me, but I shove it down. So what if one of my stalkers doesn’t like me? The weirder thing is that two of them do.

And the weirdest thing of all is that I’m starting to care for them too.

The three men all head down the walkway and pile into Theo’s car, which is parked out front. I watch them drive away, and Marcus shoots me one last look from the front passenger seat before they disappear from view.

When I close the door and step back into the house, it seems to have doubled in size somehow. Without the three men’s dominating presence filling it up, there seems to be more space than I know what to do with.

Jesus. Get a fucking grip, Ayla. They’ve been gone for two damn seconds.

I scoff at myself as I lock the door and reset the alarm. Marcus gave me a key to his place too, and left a key to one of his cars hanging on a hook by the garage. If I think about how much shit he’s trusting me with, how deeply he’s letting me into his life, it freaks me out. So I just go to the kitchen and make myself some eggs for breakfast on the sleek black stove and fancy countertops.

I haven’t quite worked up the nerve to poke around yet. I’m sure there are security cameras around the house, and I don’t really want Marcus to think that the very first thing I did after he left was ransack his house.

So I spend the first day doing exactly what he suggested. I veg out and watch a couple of movies I’ve never seen before. After lunch, I go back upstairs and take a bath in the massive tub that sits alongside the shower, and by the time I emerge, pruney and warm all the way through, I’m pretty sure this was the best idea ever.

Aside from the few days I barricaded myself in my apartment after I realized the guys were following me, I haven’t done nothing just for the sake of doing nothing in a long-ass time.

It’s nice.

It feels strange sleeping in Marcus’s bed without him there, but the sheets still carry his addictive scent, and when I bury myself beneath the blankets and fall asleep at night, my dreams don’t overwhelm me as violently as they usually do.

By the second day, I work up the nerve to go snooping around Marcus’s house—something he practically invited me to do. After fixing myself breakfast, I take a grand tour of the mansion, starting on the first floor and working my way up.

The place really is massive, with several rooms I’m pretty sure he hardly ever uses. The ones that seem most lived-in are the living room, the kitchen, his bedroom, and the room with the pool table. There’s also an office on the first floor, but all the drawers in the desk and filing cabinet are locked. I do find a few pictures of the people I think are Marcus’s parents. They’re both attractive people with serious faces, and I can see parts of their son in each of them. His father runs an investment firm, apparently, which is the business Marcus will one day take over.

Slipping the pictures back between the books where I found them, I tug out another photograph. My heart does that strange little thud-thud in my chest as I look at an image of a teenage boy with eyes the color of earth and air.

This had to have been taken at least six or seven years ago, maybe when he was sixteen or so. There are traces of the man he is now in the boy’s face, a hardness around the eyes that seems to have existed even then. But I can sense more of the hope that I see in Marcus from time to time in this picture.

I want to see more pictures. I want to know fucking everything.

My exploration of the house becomes less timid and more thorough as I gain confidence, and by the middle of the second day, I’ve poked around in every room. I haven’t found anything that answers the burning questions that still hover in my brain when it comes to Marcus, but I feel like I know him better anyway. Like I’ve seen the innermost workings of his day-to-day life.

Shit. Is this what he felt like when he watched me all that time?

It feels strange to have the tables turned like this. Now I’m the one peering into his life and realizing that the answers I want most are hidden away inside Marcus’s heart. His mind.

After making a quick lunch, I soak in the tub again, relishing the feeling of having nowhere to go and nothing pressing to do. My skin is flushed and warm when I get out and pad back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around myself.

I throw on jeans and a t-shirt, and I’m just slipping on my shoes when my phone dings with an alert.

My head snaps up, and I walk over to the bed where I left it and snatch it up. I haven’t heard from Marcus or any of the guys once since they left, which sort of surprises me. I’m assuming this text is from him, checking in on me or bitching about the gala or something, and I’m honestly more excited to hear from him than I thought I would be.

But when I glance down at the screen, my eyes widen.

It’s not from Marcus. It’s from Natalie.

NATALIE: There’s a fire.

I stare down at my phone, brows furrowing. What?

ME: What are you talking about? What do you want?

NATALIE: There’s a fucking fire!

ME: What are you talking about??

Almost as soon as I hit “send” on the message, my phone rings, and Natalie’s name flashes across the screen. I tap the accept button and bring it to my ear.

“Bitch, there’s a fucking fire! Where are you?”

She sounds panicked and shrill, all the usual smugness gone from her tone.

“What the hell are you talking about, Natalie?” I demand, annoyance and worry creeping through me.

“A fire. A fire.” She repeats the word as if I’m stupid, then switches to a video call. As soon as I accept it, she flips the phone around, showing me what’s in front of her. “Our building is on fucking fire!”

My heart stops.

Oh, shit.

Smoke pours from an upper-story window of the apartment, and I can see flames licking over the old wood. Sirens wail in the distance, and Natalie is still screaming about how the place is on fire, as if I haven’t been able to figure that out now that I’ve seen it with my own damn eyes.

Everything I own is in that building.

I packed enough clothes for three days when I came here, and I still have my wallet with the picture of me and my brother, thank fuck. But every other worldly possession I own is inside that apartment. My prosthetic arm, keepsakes from the few bright spots in my childhood, medical records, journals and books.

Everything.

My mouth goes dry as I lift the phone closer to my face, trying to tell where exactly the blaze is coming from. The whole building hasn’t gone up yet. Maybe if I can get there, I can salvage some of my things. The fire trucks are on their way. They’ll help me save it. They have to.

“I’m coming.”

That’s all I say before hanging up on Natalie. I’m glad she called me, but one nice gesture doesn’t make up for years of being a bitch, and besides, my stomach is churning too hard for me to worry about being polite.

I stuff my phone in my pocket and run downstairs, grabbing the car key off the hook before darting into the garage. Marcus’s car is an automatic, and I say a little prayer of gratitude for that. If it wasn’t, I’d be fucked.

It’s been a while since I’ve driven, and my heart slams erratically in my chest as I back out of the driveway and turn onto the street. I don’t drive as fast as Marcus, but my foot is heavy on the gas as I race down the now-familiar route between his place and mine.

When I pull up outside, my stomach clenches into a tight knot.

The fire has spread. I still don’t see any flames in the window of my unit, but the entire west side of the building looks like it’s starting to burn. Panic floods me, and I shove the car door open. The fire department has arrived, and the scene is chaotic as they start to fight back the blaze. I don’t see Natalie as I race forward, trying to get closer to the building.

“Ma’am, you need to stay back.”

A firefighter steps in front of me, blocking my path. I skid to a stop, craning my neck to see around him. “I know. I know. I’m not gonna go inside. I just need to—is there any way to—”

“No, ma’am, I’m sorry. You need to stay at a safe distance. Let us handle it, all right?”

“Yeah. Right.”

My throat is dry. I know it’s stupid to be so worried about my stuff. It’s just stuff. But I’ve been a self-contained unit for so long, living on my own with no one else. It feels almost like if I lose all those little pieces of myself that have accumulated over the years, I’ll start to fade away too. There will be nothing left to ground me.

Fuck. I wish Marcus was here. I wish they all were.

The vehemence of the thought shocks me, and I jump when a hand wraps around my upper arm.

“There you are!” Natalie’s voice is still high pitched, and she’s talking to me and clinging to me like we’re besties. I guess in her mind, a crisis has united us, sweeping all the other bullshit under the rug. “I can’t fucking believe this.” She looks back up at the burning building. “All my stuff.”

Sadness rises up in her voice, and when my gaze follows hers, I realize that both of her units are definitely burning already. Whatever fancy new furniture she filled them up with, it’s all gone now.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

Her eyes widen a little, as if she’s shocked I can spare some basic human decency despite the fact that she’s always been a bitch to me. Then she shakes it off and tugs on my arm. “Come on. They told us to wait over here.”

I glance back at the chaos and noise that surrounds the burning building as she pulls me across the street and up onto the sidewalk, away from our apartment. “Wait. I want to—”

But I never get to finish the thought.

Natalie releases her grip on my arm just as something sharp and painful jabs my neck. I lift my hand up to clap it over the sting, spinning around quickly.

The world keeps spinning.

I keep spinning.

Strong arms catch me as my legs give out, and everything goes black.