“What?” I cried, before fixing Teller with a wicked smile. “I wonder if we can sue.”
He raised his feeble arms peaceably. “That’s really not necessary.”
“I would never do that. I just wanted to watch you squirm.”
He chuckled.
“Deevus and I are going to stay at Barry’s for the next week or so.” Amanda looked at me carefully. “Do you want to stay with us?”
Before I had time to think, I felt Marcus standing tall behind me, sending shivers up my spine. He leaned down and murmured in my ear, “Stay with me, Rebecca.”
I tried to gulp but found I was too nervous. And excited. And confused.
I settled for confident and threw up my hands with a smile.
“Who better to stay with than my fiancé?”
Chapter 9
We lingered around the apartment complex for a while longer. Marcus and Max distracted the security guards while Amanda and I snuck inside and smuggled out refugee armfuls of everything we could carry into the limo. The limo driver watched Deevus for us. By the time we dropped them off and got back to the compound, it was already dark. Marcus murmured some instructions to one of his housekeepers, and I was guided to a master guest bedroom at the far end of the second floor.
My eyes widened incredulously as I peered up at the intricate crown molding around the edges of the high ceiling. It was straight out of a picture book—something that Marie Antoinette would have had in her room. The walls were a stark white that had been re-painted in a softer shade of cream as if the original shade had been too clinical for the inhabitants. A massive California king bed stood tall in the center, complete with gauzy four-poster curtains, and a miniature chandelier hung in the center, creating a soft glow that made the giant room seem somehow cozy despite its size.
Feeling a little like the wrong side of the Prince and the Pauper, I headed to the bathroom and took the longest shower of my life. I was completely unaccustomed to the walk-in design; I kept looking over my shoulder like at any moment someone might just saunter on in. But after losing myself in gleeful distraction over the thousand different streams of jets and bath oils the place had been lined with, I couldn’t have cared less. Between that and the seemingly endless supply of hot water, I think I would have been content to stay in there forever, but sleep called, and that bed looked more than inviting.
I let my wet auburn waves spill down my back as I wrapped myself securely in a towel and made for the mattress. Taking into account the absurd decadence, I was seriously considering a running leap when a soft knock on the door made me pause. Tightening the towel even more, I pulled it open to see Marcus standing there, a stack of fresh linens in his hands.
His eyes hesitated a moment on my bare legs and shoulders, before flickering up almost apologetically to my face. “Here.” He cleared his throat and held out the mountain of spare sheets and towels. “In case you needed anything else.”
I took them with a cautious smile, not quite understanding his awkwardness. It had been his idea for me to come here—if he’d wanted to back out, he’d had plenty of opportunities.
“Thanks.” There was already a year’s supply of towels in the cupboards but it was a kind sentiment. Kind, but rather strange, come to think of it. I cocked my head curiously. “Isn’t that something the maid usually does?” I had heard, firsthand, the wrath of Marcus’ housekeepers, and I didn’t think they’d take kindly to him hand-delivering bath towels on his own.
He merely shrugged. “I thought I might as well, I mean—my room’s right down the hall.”
I smiled as I peered past his shoulder at the closed door. “Convenient.” I tried to get him to smile. “So you can keep an eye on all of your houseguests?”
He chuckled. “That’s one thing I adore about you, Rebecca. It’s your wonderful sense of humor.”
“Well, thanks,” I said with a laugh. “I’ll just be going to bed then.”
“Rebecca,” he struggled to control himself, “how is it you always know the perfect thing to say? In every situation?”
“What are you talking about?” I shook my head quickly. “I always say the worst things. To be honest, I’m actually kind of known for it.”
“Exactly.” He was still beaming, bright eyes sparkling in the shadows of the hall. “You tell Takahari he’s an old man and you can’t be bothered to learn Japanese. You basically tell me to go fuck myself when I try to sweep you off to a tropical paradise. Hell, the first day we officially met, you told some random stranger you were my girlfriend.”
Exactly…all the wrong things.
“Well, you told the world I was your fiancée,” I bristled defensively.
“What can I say?” He grinned broadly. “You must be rubbing off on me.”
I laughed.
“Goodnight,” I said.
“Goodnight.”