“Can’t change the world if you only help nice people.”
A very good point, I suppose.
The waiter shows up and presents us with the wine list and menus.
“Thanks, but we won’t be staying,” Marus says.
My blood pressure drops. He’s calling it a night. I pushed him too far, and he doesn’t like it. Well, too bad. I’m not ready for it to be over.
“But I’m starving,” I say firmly. “I haven’t eaten all day.” Yeah, that’s right. You try to send me home before I’m fed. I dare you.
As if reading my thoughts, he relaxes into his skin and offers an olive branch. “I’d prefer a more private setting if we’re going to talk about private matters.” Marus stands and holds out his hand. “Let’s go.”
“We haven’t taken care of business.”
He stares me down. If I want this—him—he’s asking me to show a little faith. He wants to see that I trust him enough to follow his direction, that I’m on his side even if we’re in the middle of an ugly, unexpected game of trust.
I am, although the new Ginnie has limits. Her trust has to be earned.
I stand with my chin held high.
“There’s an envelope in the left pocket of my coat,” he says. “Would you be so kind as to go back in the kitchen and deliver it to the nice young man washing dishes. His name is Rubin.”
“Sir,” says the waiter, who’s still standing there, “I’m afraid she can’t go back there, and if you’re not here to dine—”
Marus stares him down. “Trust me on this: You do not want to get in my way.”
“Ummm…” The man walks off, probably to call the manager or something.
“It’s all right, Ginnie.” Marus jerks his head toward the kitchen.
This definitely feels like a test. I’m game as long as it leads me to getting my answers tonight. “No problem.”
“Watch the slippery floor in those shoes,” he says.
My heart is pounding. I walk back to the kitchen, and some guy—the head chef—immediately starts telling me I’ve made a wrong turn and can’t be back here, but I’ve already spotted the dishwasher and head straight towards him. He’s tall, thin, and has kind eyes.
“Rubin?”
“Who are you?” he asks.
I slide the envelope from my pocket. “Just the messenger.” I hand it over, and he opens it.
Rubin looks up at me. “Is this for real?”
“It’s your one wish. Make it count.” I walk away, curious as hell about what was in that envelope.
When I come out, Marus is talking to the waiter and some other man in a suit. Both look like children compared to Marus’s stature and dominating presence.
He spots me coming, and his eyes light up. “Ah, Ginnie. There you are. Everything go all right?”
“Yep.” I smile tightly. The tension inside me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It’s raw. It’s needy. It’s pure adrenaline.
“Then we’ll be on our way, gentlemen.” Marus dips his head of shiny, thick red hair. “And if I were you, I’d be extra kind to the help tonight.” He takes my hand, and we stroll outside.
“What was his wish?” I ask as we take the stairs.
“Rubin now owns this restaurant.”
“Really?”
“He put himself through culinary school washing dishes, but it seems no one wanted to give him a chance to actually cook. Now he’ll get one.”
We head outside, where that valet is nowhere to be found. I’m guessing he’s driving around the block in his new wheels.
So tonight, Marus gave away a car and a restaurant. “How’s the head?” I ask.
“Good. But it’ll be even better once I get you to my place.”
For some more candor? I’m ready. “Where’s that? Because we don’t have a car, and I’m not sure I can walk very far in these heels.”
“I can carry you.”
“Oh no, the entire world will see my bare naked privates if you lift me.”
“You’re not wearing any underwear?” He flashes a hungry look in my direction while we walk.
“No.”
“Wishes really do come true.” He picks up the pace. “Come on. I’m just a few blocks over.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“This is your place?” I say, from the penthouse window of a very tall, very old building with Fort Knox type security. Even the elevator had one of those fingerprint scanners.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” Marus loosens his tie and disappears into his bedroom.
I swivel and take in the amazing view. It’s an open floor plan with windows looking out across the twinkling lights of the cityscape. There’s a long gray couch, a glass coffee table, and two white leather armchairs. It’s minimalism to the extreme. Nothing fluffy, homey, or textured. Just cold hard lines. The kitchen, which is part of the open room, isn’t much different—black granite counters, gray cupboards, stainless steel appliances, and a very big wine fridge. It’s strange how this place fits both Marus’s personality and Mason’s—at least what I’ve been told. Marus doesn’t care about owning things, yet here he is living in an expensive penthouse. He drives nice cars, wears expensive suits, and has a few helicopters, all things I’d imagine a wealthy bachelor would like. It makes me wonder if Marus has truly broken away from the man he used to be, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. In a way, it’s part of what makes Marus who he is today. And that man is someone I can’t get enough of.