Chapter 290
Francesca pressed the elevator button on the first floor of Marcus’s apartment building. After her brother and his friends left, she didn’t want to be alone in the office. The guys had rattled her. Their behavior was unnervingly forward…sexually aggressive.
She’d locked the office and told Joyce to stay home, far away from any men.
When Marcus opened his door, she practically fell into his arms. She needed to feel him around her—holding her, protecting her. Safe.
“Hey,” he said, kissing her temple, arms tightening around her. He swayed slightly side to side; the quiet, steady motion calmed her nerves. Then she noticed his outfit—or lack of one.
She’d only ever seen him in a coat and tie. Now he wore a black tank top and tight cut-off sweats. His broad shoulders, sculpted arms, and tattoos were impossible to ignore. And his legs—holy Moses, she’d kill for legs like that. Any woman would want to climb on him like he was a prize bull.
“I’ve had a rough morning and wanted to see you,” she said.
He pulled back slightly, frowning. “Don’t tell me you don’t like chocolate either.”
She laughed, the tension melting from her shoulders. “Actually, I don’t. But that was the best part of my morning…until now.”
“What?” His confusion made her giggle again. She felt herself relaxing, returning to her usual self. He led her to an oversized plush recliner and settled her into his lap, her head resting on his chest. His scent enveloped her—intense yet comforting.
“Now,” he said, “tell me everything.”
Francesca recounted Luci’s Friday night close call, leaving out the incident with Jim the accountant. Then she told him what Luci and her friends had overheard—the strange things the guys were saying.
Marcus’s expression darkened. “Francesca,” he said, “I know you’re a grown woman who can take care of herself, but you’re worrying me. What if your brother can’t control these guys? What if things get worse? Are there others strong enough to step in if they lose control?”
“I know, Marcus. But nothing like this has ever happened before. Why now?”
“That’s exactly why we need to figure it out. I have contacts—ex-military, FBI—that can help.”
“Whoa,” she said. “This isn’t a terrorist group. Just a bunch of Neanderthals who think they’re big stuff. I don’t want a scene or to draw attention to our little community.”
“I understand,” he said, brushing his collarbone against her cheek. She shivered. “But I’m worried about you. You can handle yourself, but what if a group of them comes at you at once?”
Her mind flashed to that morning in the office—but she didn’t dare say it. He’d blow a gasket. Still, she agreed: she needed to figure out what was driving this aggressiveness. The pride talk the girls mentioned—honor, protecting the males—had to mean something.
He leaned closer. “Is this how you dress when working at home?” His voice low, teasing.
“I was working out,” he admitted. “Not much exercise during the day when I’m on a case.”
“Oh,” she said, sitting up. “You have a project. I shouldn’t—”
He scooped her back into his lap. “No, you’re not going anywhere.”
“But you have a job—”
“I also have this perfect woman sitting with me.” He kissed the top of her head. “You come first. Always.”
Her heart melted. She wanted to think about Theo—but not while in Marcus’s lap. Change the subject. “So…how’s the bad guy case coming?”
“This one’s a piece of work. I’ll make sure he never gets out of prison. From what I can tell, the victims don’t even realize they’re being scammed. Tons of fake paperwork—like Bernie Madoff’s scheme.”
He shifted in the chair, eyes locking with hers. “Francesca, promise me: if you ever notice something off with your or the pride’s accounts, look into it. Don’t assume someone else will catch it. There aren’t many people you can trust—only family and close friends.”
He pressed her to his chest. “Some people only care about themselves.”
Her stomach growled. Embarrassed, she tried to laugh.
He smiled. “Almost noon. How about pizza and some time together? There’s something I need to tell you.”
She leaned back. “What? Is it bad?”
“No, no,” he said, waving it off. “Just information.”
She sniffed the air. His scent was strong—but there was another. Familiar. Her heart skipped.
“May I use the restroom?” she asked.
“Uh…can you hold it for a few hours?”
“What?” She swatted him. “No, I’m not holding it. What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m just thinking about the immediate future.” He pointed down the hall. “Restroom—first door on the right.”
Now that she was moving, the other scent intensified. Her pulse quickened. She hurried into the bathroom, closed the door quietly…
There was no question. Theo was in the apartment.