Chapter 289 - Claimed By My Stepbrother (Cadell Security Series)
Seona’s POV
‘Th . . thank you’ I stammer for what feels like the one hundredth time, as I grip the brand new cell phone in my hand, staring at the icons that cover the screen with no idea what most of them do. I’ve never had a cell phone, I couldn’t afford one when I lived with my mom and Davis said that I didn’t need one, who would I be talking to that I couldn’t use the house phone. He had a cell phone though, of course he did, and I was never allowed to touch it.
Mark grunts in response, something I’ve noticed he does when he gets uncomfortable with a conversation.
I turn the phone over in my hand, running my fingers over the sleek back of the protective case that the soldier insisted I also get. It’s pink and glittery, Mark barked out a laugh when I zeroed in on it from the huge display that covered one wall, what can I say, I’m a girly girl.
The phone is already programmed with Mark’s number along with both Cadell brothers, Callan and the four women who have been so gracious to me since I met them.
Biting my lip nervously, I press on the icon for messages, hesitating before adding each of the women in my life’s numbers to the top and then typing out a simple message.
‘Hi, this is Seona, I just got a cell phone, this is the number.’
I scrutinise the words, second guessing myself, is this to forward? Will they find it weird that I’m sending them my number? They’ve never actually articulated that I’m a friend after all.
‘Just hit send Love’ Mark’s amused voice rumbles from beside me as I look up to find him glancing at me, smiling.
‘But . . ‘ I start.
‘They’ll want your number Love, trust me’ Mark cuts me off, nodding his head toward the phone in my hand, ‘press send.’
I turn back to the device, pressing my thumb to the screen before I can talk myself out of it again and then shut the phone off quickly.
We are currently enroute to Margo’s office to meet with her about starting the divorce process. After talking to the lawyer on the phone, and my heated make out session with the soldier beside me, my head was all over the place. So despite Mark wanting to get me a phone then and there, I opted to stay at the bakery and play around with new flavours in the kitchen, losing myself in my craft before taking over from Mackenzie in the shop.
Mark hums along to the radio, nodding his head slightly to the beat as he concentrates on the road in front of us, leaving me to my thoughts which are still a jumbled mess.
I kissed Mark, it was just like my dreams, over the last few days, my legs wrapped tightly around him as he presses me into the wall. I can still feel the memory of his sharp planes against my soft curves, the feel of his lips pressed to my own, the taste of his coffee on his tongue as he devoured me. When he stepped back from me, my heart stopped, thinking that the soldier regretted what had happened, that things would now be weird between us.
Mark assurance that he was stopping for me just made the feelings I have for him stronger. The fact he was holding himself back to make sure that my mind is clear, made me feel . . . worthy.
‘We’re here’ Mark states beside me, jerking my attention back to the present just as we turn into a large car park that sits in front of a huge, glass fronted multi level office building.
Finding a space, the soldier, cuts the engine, climbing out and head around the hood to my door, pulling it open.
Automatically, I take his offered hand, a move now so ingrained into me that I struggle to remember the time before when he wasn’t there to help me out of a vehicle.
Straightening up, I tug my coat tightly around my body, protecting myself from the chill wind that is now rampant, bringing out a rosy tint in the cheeks of shoppers as they hurry down the street nearby.
Locking the truck, Mark ushers me toward the building, the door being pulled open by a man in a tailored suit who nods curtly to us as we enter.
Heading toward a nearby desk, the soldier waits behind a few people as they shuffle forward every so often as one of the six receptionists that man the desk become free.
When it is finally our turn, Mark’s hand finds the small of my back, urging me forward toward the impeccably groomed man who smiles up at us expectantly.
‘Welcome to Singh, Dockett and Karanji Legal Consultants, how may I assist you today?’
I stand to the side as Mark deals with our appointment, nodding seriously as the young man gives him directions to Margo’s office. Thanking him for his help, the soldier grabs my elbow, steering me away from the counter and toward the left side of the building where a well lit corridor is situated lined either side with elevator doors.
Joining the throng of harassed looking business men and women and more casually dressed clients, we wait for one of the set of doors to slide open before we rush forward with everyone else vying for a space in the compact square.
Practically shoving people out of the way, Mark secures us both a space, turning around and reaching through the masses to press our floor number, as the doors shut on the disgruntled faces of those who didn’t make it.
We stand shoulder to shoulder with the other people in our box, tinny music pumping from the speaker above our heads as we rise our way up through the floors, stopping every so often for people to get out, only to be replaced with others getting in.
Finally, the doors slide open as the electronic woman’s voice calls out our floor number, the soldier elbowing his way to the front as I follow meekly behind whispering my excuse me’s and thank you’s to everyone who ignore me.
Stepping out into the air conditioned space, I suck in some much needed air after the stuffy airless elevator space. Taking my hand in his, Mark pulls me gently toward another reception desk where a primly dressed woman with oversized glasses looks up at us as we approach.
On the top of the counter is a wooden name plaque with the woman’s name and the title, secretary, so I assume she works for Margo.
‘We’re here to see Margo Biachi, we have an appointment’ Mark tells her gruffly as he stops just in front of the desk, leaning an elbow on the perfectly polished top.
‘Name?’ the woman asks, raising an eyebrow as she turns back to her computer, hands hovering over the keys in preparation.
‘Mark Hallick and Seona Thomas’ the soldier replies curtly.
The receptionist types quickly, her fingers flying over the keys as she skims over the words that appear on her screen. After an agonisingly long couple of minutes, the secretary, looks up again, eyeing Mark cooly before picking up her phone and pressing a few numbers, clicking the top of the pen in her other hand as she listens to it ring.
‘Ms Biachi, there is a Mr Hallick and Ms Thomas at the front desk, they have an appointment.’
She nods absentmindedly to herself before replacing the receiver and giving us her attention again.
‘Ms Biachi will be with you in just a few moments, if you’d like to take a seat behind you.’ I look over my shoulder at a small selection of two seater couches that encompass a small coffee table with carefully positioned magazines splayed out on top.
Mark nods, tugging me back toward the seats and waiting for me to pick a chair before taking the one next to me, his high muscular thigh pressing against my own in the small chairs.
I reach for one of the magazines, more to occupy my hands than because I’m interested in last months financial projections. Sitting beside the Army veteran I can’t help but be acutely aware of just how close he is. I can smell the scent of his cologne, now soothingly familiar. The heat from his body seeps through my jeans as I flip the pages of my magazine without reading a word.
‘Mark? Seona?’ Margo’s voice echoes around the waiting area and I jump up as though I’ve been electrocuted, hurrying toward the fiery woman with my hand already out as Mark slowly rises to his feet and follows me.
‘Ms Biachi . . um Margo’ I correct myself self consciously as the woman takes my hand and shakes it firmly, ‘thank you for taking my case on again.’
Margo waves away my stammering, smiling up at Mark as he approaches, ignoring his hand and pulling him into a hug that the soldier returns stiffly.
A flare of something strange sparks inside of me as I watch Mark embrace the lawyer, my hands curling into tight fists by my side as I fight a sudden urge to pull the soldier away from Margo and toward me. Confused, I shove it aside, not understanding the suddenly, overwhelming feeling instead smiling back at the smaller woman as she beckons for us to follow her to her office.
Stepping into the room, my breath catches as I take in the huge space, two walls made up entirely of windows that give a breathtaking view over the Maine skyline. Two large, comfortable looking, white, couches I assume were picked out by the interior designer, dominate one half of the room, whilst a coffee table between them, and a wet bar built into the far wall. The other half of the office has a huge, ornately carved desk with a state of the art chair behind it. Everything is top of the line, from the computer to the crystal decanter and glasses that perch on the corner on a silver tray.
‘I see you’re still slumming it’ Mark mutters as he walks in behind me, his chest millimeters from my back as he crowds me.
Margo laughs as she heads to the wet bar, taking out three tumblers and raising an eyebrow at the soldier questioningly.
‘Soda’ Mark responds to the unanswered question, inching me forward toward one of the couches where I take a seat in a daze.
‘Seona?’ Margo asks questioningly, shaking the tumbler gently in her hand when I give her a blank look.
‘Oh uh, soda’ I reply, copying Mark as my brain doesn’t seem to be keeping up with anything at the moment.
Making three soft drinks, Margo brings them to the seating area, handing one to Mark, then me before taking a seat across from us. Her own glass is clasped in her hands, perfectly manicured fingers curled around the etched design, as she folds one perfectly toned leg over the other, looking every bit the confident, powerful woman that she no doubt is.