Chapter 58 Be Mine
Mark’s POV
“Move.”
“Let go of me! What are you doing?” she yelled.
“Orders, ma’am.”
“Whose orders?” she snapped
“Just get in the car.”
The sound of Becca’s voice echoed through the live feed on my phone.
Her panic punched a hole in my chest, even though I knew what was really happening.
I’d told them not to hurt her, not even to touch her roughly.
Just bring her to me.
Regardless, watching her struggle against the guards, her hair had become messy from the wind, I felt bad.
Maybe this was a stupid idea.
But Becca… she never listened when I tried to do things the normal way.
The car door slammed shut on the feed. I turned off the screen, exhaled, and stared at the rooftop spread I had spent a week planning.
The city lights glittered below, a sea of silver and gold. String lights hung over the terrace, swaying in the wind.
The table was set for two, candles flickering, wine already chilled.
For the first time in months, I felt nervous.
And then I heard the elevator doors open.
“Where the hell am I?” Becca’s voice cut through the music playing softly in the background.
When she stepped out, her eyes widened into confusion.
She looked breathtaking, even in erfurious state. Her hair was loose from the scuffle, her coat hanging off one shoulder.
“Mark?” she whispered, her tone halfway between shock and outrage.
I smiled. “Surprise.”
“Surprise?” She stormed toward me. “You had me kidnapped, you psychopath!”
I raised both hands. “Kidnapped is a strong word. I prefer… escorted.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Escorted? With men who looked like they were about to stuff me in a trunk?”
“They were instructed not to touch you…”
“They grabbed me!”
I took a step closer. “Becca…”
“No. Don’t ‘Becca’ me. What is this? Some twisted rich-boy prank?”
I should’ve expected her fire.
That’s what made her impossible to forget. But before she could walk away, the soft hum of rotors filled the air.
She froze as a drone drifted into view, carrying a glowing digital banner. The letters shimmered across the night sky, forming one line that made even my own heart skip.
“Becca Wilton, will you be my girlfriend?”
Her breath caught. All that fury in her face cracked into something else
She turned to me slowly. “You’re serious?”
Before then, I had planted my knees on the floor, holding out the box of the ring.
I nodded. “Dead serious.”
Her voice softened. “You could’ve just asked.”
“I did, once,” I said quietly. “But back then… we were both lying about who we were,” I stammered
“This time, I want it to be real. No games. No conditions. Just me and you.”
Her eyes shimmered. She laughed under her breath, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
She nodded, “I have accepted to be Mark Simmons girlfriend,”
She pointed her hand to me and I slipped the promise ring into her finger.
I stepped closer and kissed her. The city disappeared. The wind, the lights, the world, all gone.
It was just her mouth, her warmth, her heartbeat slamming against mine.
When we broke apart, there were flashes in the distance, reporters, drones, someone getting the perfect angle.
“Mark,” she gasped, pulling back. “People can see…”
That's the reason I choose a rooftop.
“Let them.” I smiled. “Let them all know you’re mine.”
She laughed again, the sound trembling with disbelief and something softer. “You’re insane.”
“And it's all your fault” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
The night went on like a dream. We ate barely half the dinner I’d ordered, too caught in each other’s orbit.
Every look, every accidental touch felt like gravity pulling us closer. By the time we got to the hotel, there wasn’t space left between us.
The suite glowed in muted gold, city lights pouring through the windows. Becca stood by the balcony, her silhouette traced in silver.
“This is… surreal,” she whispered.
I walked up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist. “Good surreal or bad surreal?”
She leaned into me. “I don’t know yet.”
I kissed her shoulder. “Then let me convince you.”
Her breath hitched when I turned her around. The look in her eyes; it had fear, need, something in between.
I was lost that I forgot every rule I’d ever made for myself.
My hands made their way around her dress, slowly I pulled the rope.
She didn't stop me, rather her fingers clutched my back.
My little guy got harder by that action. My fingers slipped into her wet pussy.
“Mark,”she moaned.
“This is not a proper place,”
I was so engrossed with exploring her body and being in a proper place was one thing that wasn't in my mind.
But nevertheless, I swept her off her feet and took her to the bedroom. Shutting the door to satisfy our various fantasies.
When it was over, she lay half-asleep against my chest, tracing circles on my skin. I could still feel her heartbeat against mine.
Hours later, the room was dark except for the faint city glow through the curtains. Becca stirred as I spoke.
“If money wasn’t a problem,” I said quietly, “what would you do with your life?”
She blinked up at me, eyes sleepy. “Do you really want to know,”
“Yes babybae,”
She hesitated, then reached for her phone.
A few swipes later, she handed it to me. The screen showed photos of hand-drawn sketches of dresses, coats, designs that looked professional enough to hang in a boutique window.
“I used to draw these,” she said softly. “Before everything got… complicated.”
I stared at the drawings, surprised. “You made these?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I wanted to own a boutique. Design for real people, not just models. Something affordable but still beautiful.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because dreams don’t pay rent,” she said with a sad laugh.
“And when I tried to get internships with fashion brands, they either ghosted me or wanted more than talent, if you know what I mean.”
My jaw tightened. “Bastards.”
She shrugged. “It’s fine. I just… stopped trying.”
“No,” I said. “You pressed pause. That’s different.”
She gave me a small, tired smile. “You make it sound easy.”
“Maybe it can be.” I kissed her forehead.
“We’ll make that happen, Babybae. I promise.”
Her eyes searched mine, like she was trying to see if I meant it.
Then she whispered, “You always say things like that, and somehow I almost believe you.”
I smiled faintly. “Almost?”
“Maybe more than almost.” She teased.
She fell asleep like that, hand still resting on my chest, sketches still glowing faintly on the phone screen beside her.
Morning slipped in quietly.
I stepped out of bed, careful not to wake her.
I got dressed in a jogger and top to take my morning walk.
I stepped out of the hotel.
Cold air brushed my skin, the kind that carried warning more than calm. I reached for my bottle when I heard a voice behind me.
“Mark.”
I turned.
Olivia stood by the car, sunglasses pushed up.
“We need to talk,” she said, voice low. Her eyes flicked toward the hotel entrance. “Alone.”