Page 86 of Tied Up in Riches
“Yeah. I’ll let her tell you the rest.” I let my hands run down her neck, over her shoulders, locking on her arms. “Good causes exist on every corner. But I think the ones you’ll make the biggest impact supporting are ones that hit home more.”
She nods, her eyes wandering to the corner of the room and widening slightly over and over again as if little details are clicking into place. “What else?”
“You know about the bar. Making the dream come true for Troy.”
“You paid for the whole thing?” Her eyes gloss over.
“Yes. He’s slowly buying me out for his half.”
“What else?”
“My sister’s adoption fees.”
A tear escapes, but she doesn’t bother brushing it away. She just wraps her arms tighter around my waist. “I’m so sorry, Marcus.”
“You’re sorry?” I chuckle.
She nods. “For making you feel like the things that make you incredible needed to be hidden from me.”
“It wasn’t worth losing you,” I say easily. “You sure you’re okay with this?”
“The rich people shit-talking might take some time to get under control, but yes.”
“Good. Because if you don’t walk away now, I won’t let you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She smiles. “Except maybe out of New York. This city isn’t exactly my vibe.”
“We can go anywhere you want. I am rich, you know.” I smirk.
“Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.” Her smile barely has time to escape before she stands on her toes and presses her lips to mine. It’s a quick kiss because for as much as I want to get lost in it, I’m acutely aware of the four pairs of eyes watching us. I laugh, breaking the kiss and pulling Brooke into a hug.
“Oh, wait. One more thing,” I say into her hair, wanting to get everything out in the open.
She pulls back, curious.
“All last week, Beau was trying to dig up dirt on me.”
Her eyes widen, but then she shakes away her shock like she’s not surprised. “You told me that.”
“Yeah. But not that he was blackmailing me. Wanted to tell you I was rich before I had a chance. So, I hired a PI to bury him.”
A grin splashes across her pretty face. “Oh, I have plenty of dirt on him. I could have saved you the trouble and the money.”
“I guess I’ll have to keep you around then.” I smirk, kissing her temple. “Alright.” I turn to our friends. “Where are we going for lunch? My treat,” I tell our crowd, Brooke turning in my arms enough to look at them too. “We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”
Chapter thirty-four
Brooke
I slide my key into the front door of Marcus’ house after a long day with Emma and Charlotte. We’ve been back from our trip for three days now and thinking their product would take off after being on a national morning show was a severe underestimation. Bar owners and managers all across the country have been calling us non-stop, giving us no time to come up for air, and withholding any opportunity for Marcus and I to connect away from the chaos.
As much as I love that my temporary living arrangement includes one of my best friends, I would kill for a night alone with Marcus. We’ve shared his bed, but not in the way I’ve been craving considering we haven’t slept more than four hours a night and Maci and Dean have been here. That means we also haven’t had any time to discuss our future, including plans for me to move to Oregon permanently and what that looks like. Tonight isn’t the night for it either, though. Despite my desire for alone time, I am excited to meet his sister.
I twist the key in the lock, turning the knob as I do. A young girl’s voice comes from down the hallway. “Uncle Dean!” she screams at the same time Marcus’ deep voice booms past the wood divider, “We’re in here!”
Closing the door behind me, I slip my flats off and walk down the entryway hall. When I reach the living room couch on the right, the back of Marcus’ head comes into view. It’s covered with plastic pastel butterfly clips—the kind my mom never bought me because she said bows were more classy. There’s a little girl sitting in front of him on the floor, half of her hair in a perfect French braid, and the other almost completed as Marcus twists the dark brown strand a shade lighter than her skin. It’s the cutest thing I’ve seen and almost makes my ovaries explode.
Marcus turns, pinching the partially braided hair in his fingers. “Brooke.” His rough voice strongly contrasts the image of him with butterfly barrettes clipped into his hair tied loosely in a knot at his neck. He shoots me a tired grin, happy to see me.