Page 68 of Love Marks

Now that I’ve noticed it, it’s become a strange sort of addiction for me, watching her cook. I’ve started trying to plan my days around it — ending early so that I can make it back to the apartment in time, working from home and bringing my laptop out into the living room just as she’s getting started.

I’m on my way back to the hotel now, hoping she’s still there. I have a few more tricks up my sleeves. The push-ups were easy, and likely transparent. It’s time to step up my game.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I look down to see my brother’s name flashing on the screen.

I lift the phone to my ear. “Yes?”

“Wow, hello to you too,” Ben chuckles.

“What do you want?” I ask, forcing some patience into my tone.

“Why do you always assume I want something?” Ben asks. “Can’t a man call his brother just for the hell of it?”

I check my watch again. I bet Quinn’s already started on dinner. Dammit. I’m missing it.

“Alright, fine. I need you to babysit Luna on Saturday,” he admits.

“There it is.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I can almost hear him rolling his eyes through the phone. “Can you do it or not?”

“Yes.”

“Great.” It’s silent for a moment. “So, you sleep with her yet? Or is that why you’re in such a bad mood? Still playing horny teenager?”

“Fuck off.” I growl.

Ben chuckles on the other line. “That’s a no, then.”

“She’s my—”

“If you tell me again some bullshit about how she works for you or how she’d never go for it, I’m going to blow my brains out.”

I sigh and shake my head. Ben always did have a flare for the dramatics. I always thought if he wasn’t a lawyer, he’d be an actor. Pete meets my eyes in the mirror and nods. We’re here.

“I gotta go.” I don’t wait for a response as I hang up the phone and slide out of the car, heading upstairs.

When I get to the penthouse, Quinn is carefully loading the dishwasher, a plate with a charred steak, mashed potatoes, and a salad sitting on the table. She has her headphones in — I can tell by the way she’s swaying as she washes the plates off and slips them into the dishwasher.

I put my briefcase on the counter, and she turns, meeting my eyes. I smile and she pulls out one of her earbuds.

“Hey. Dinner’s on the table.”

“Thanks. It looks great.”

My stomach flutters uncomfortably. Nerves, Wesley? Really?

Somehow, after all this time, she still makes me nervous. Like my skin is buzzing. Like I’ve come alive.

She’s changed clothes from earlier and there’s light makeup coated on her face. A tight black dress hugs her body, a light pink cardigan over her shoulders. She looks incredible. More dressed up than usual. Is this part of the game? Did she wear this for me? My heart flutters at the thought.

She unties her apron and turns away from me. “Is it okay if I leave a little early? I have a date.”

My stomach drops.

A date?

With who? Where? When did this happen?