Chapter 57 Between Two Flames
Becca’s POV
Mark had that look again; the one that always messes up my brain.
He was leaning against the edge of his desk, sleeves rolled up, that infuriating smirk playing at his mouth like he knew exactly how much it messed with me.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I said, a red blush trying to crept into my cheek.
He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Like what?”
“Like you already know what you’re going to do to me.”
A low chuckle escaped him. “Oh, Becca… I do know.”
I barely had time to react before he pulled me closer. His hand slid behind my neck, his lips brushing my ear, voice like a quiet growl.
“I’m going to eat you alive,” he murmured, the words a promise and a threat all at once. “Every inch of you. Until you forget your name.”
My breath hitched. “Mark!!!”
“I want to taste you,” he continued, his tone shameless, “Make you forget the world until the only thing you can say is my name.”
A shaky laugh escaped me.“You’re impossible.”
“And you love it,” he said, pressing a slow kiss to the side of my neck.
The knock on his study door shattered the spell. I froze where I stood, still trapped in his arms, our breaths tangled in the heavy silence.
Mark groaned quietly. “If that’s Collins, I swear…”
The door cracked open. “Sir?”
Collins’ voice came through calm, steady, painfully professional.
Mark didn’t move. “Come in, Collins.”
Collins hesitated at the doorway, a tablet in his hand. His eyes flicked toward me, then away. “Should I, uh, come back later?”
Mark smirked, not even pretending to be embarrassed. “No need,”
Collins' gaze moved from me then to Mark, I felt as if my presence was a disturbance.
“She stays.” Mark replied, as if he knew what was going through our mind.
Then, leaning close to my ear, he whispered, “I’ll eat you after this meeting.”
I felt the heat rise straight to my face.
Collins cleared his throat and stepped farther in, his tone perfectly neutral. “As I was saying, sir , the Simmons Foundation collaboration has passed all security verifications. No irregularities or hidden clauses. Olivia Reed’s records are clean.”
At that name, something shifted in the air like the temperature dropped a degree.
Mark straightened, his whole demeanor changing in an instant.
The tease was gone; now he was the boss.
Focused and sharp. “And her credentials?”
“They are authentic,” Collins replied. “She’s got a strong background in philanthropic investments and corporate ethics. She’s well-connected with several European charity boards. It could elevate Simmons’ public image considerably.”
“Any conflicts of interest?”
“None detected. I ran an additional trace on her digital activity. Everything checks out.”
Mark nodded slowly, considering. “Good. Keep an eye on the funding flow once phase one begins.”
“Understood.” Collins gave a small nod, glancing at me again before leaving.
The moment the door shut, Mark’s expression softened. That familiar spark returned to his eyes.
“Now, where were we?”
I gave him a knowing look. “You were about to ruin your professional image.”
He grinned and tugged me gently into his lap. “It would be worth it.”
I laughed despite myself, resting my forehead against his.
For a moment, everything was easy again just us, in our tiny, chaotic bubble.
Later that evening, we met Olivia for dinner.
The restaurant was one of those glass-walled, candlelit places that made everything feel more polished than it should.
Olivia was already there, sitting across the table in a fitted cream dress, posture perfect, smile effortless.
She greeted us with warmth, but something in her gaze felt measured.
Mark and Olivia started discussing the Children’s Security Initiative, the same project Collins had cleared earlier.
The plan was brilliant, I couldn’t deny that. It would position Simmons as a global philanthropic force, opening doors to massive partnerships.
But watching them together made something twist in my stomach.
They spoke easily, laughing over old boardroom memories, finishing each other’s sentences.
Olivia had this way of leaning forward when Mark talked, like she was giving him all her attention.
And he… he smiled back in that effortless, charming way that used to belong only to me.
“Did he actually forget her past behaviour?” I murmured to myself.
I tried to focus on my food, on anything else, but her laugh kept slicing through the background noise.
“You’ve got a sharp mind, Olivia,” Mark said, smiling. “Remind me not to let you handle my contracts.”
She tilted her head, playful. “I think we’d make a dangerous team, Mr. Simmons.”
My fork paused mid-air. Dangerous team.
Mark’s hand brushed mine under the table, a quick, quiet gesture that said, you’re the one I want.
But I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Not when Olivia’s eyes were still lingering on his face like she was testing boundaries.
By the time dinner ended, my stomach was in knots.
“Thank you again for tonight,” Olivia said, her voice light, her perfume lingering as she stood. “You’re incredible to work with.”
“Pleasure’s mine,” Mark replied smoothly.
She turned to me with a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Becca. It's lovely seeing you. I'm happy we are able to settle our differences,”
“Which differences?” I almost yelled.
And then she was gone , leaving behind that faint, expensive scent that somehow filled the whole room.
The silence that followed was deafening.
We barely spoke during the drive home. The city lights blurred past the car windows while my thoughts screamed louder than the traffic.
When we stepped into the penthouse, I finally let it spill.
“I don’t like how close she is to you.”
Mark paused by the bar, glass in hand. “What?”
“You heard me.” My arms folded before I even realized it. “The way she looks at you, the way you laugh with her; it’s not just business, Mark.”
He studied me for a long second before crossing the room. His hands came up to cradle my face.
“Becca,” he said softly, “there’s nothing between us. You have to trust me. You’re the only one who gets this side of me.”
I wanted to believe him , and part of me did but the ache in my chest wouldn’t let go.
“I’m trying,” I whispered. “But she wants something from you. I can feel it.”
He brushed his thumb across my jaw, eyes gentling. “Then let her want. It doesn’t change who I come home to.”
My throat tightened.
God, he made it sound so simple.
He kissed me then slow, steady, full of warmth. Like he was sealing a promise I desperately needed to believe.
When we pulled apart, I whispered, “Just don’t make me regret trusting you.”
“You won’t,” he murmured against my forehead. “I’d burn the world before I let that happen.”
Later that night, I lay in bed while he showered. The room was dark, quiet until his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
The screen lit up his side of the bed.
Olivia Reed: Dinner tomorrow to finalize the proposal? 💖
My heart stopped. The little heart emoji pulsed like a wound.