Chapter 13: Whispers and Wishes

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Marcus

I’m standing in the dim anteroom, my insides unraveling, and Karen Philpot is right here watching. How has my life come to this?

No time for post mortems. I rub a hand over my chin, straighten my jacket, and start to go. Of course, the bitch stops me.

“You’ve always made good choices, Marcus.” Her superior tone tweaks my annoyance. “Don’t let Amy Knight turn you into a fool. She’s been playing men like you since high school.”

I simultaneously want to strangle Karen and ask her to elaborate. I don’t do either. Amy has been a mystery from the start. Running into her tonight is the worst possible thing that could’ve happened, but I didn’t get to the top by walking away from tough situations—or by being stupid. Karen is at the top of her game as well, for whatever that’s worth.

Infusing my voice with as much disinterest as possible, I shrug. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” She folds her hands. “She’s a destructive little viper disguised as an ingénue. I don’t know why she ever came back.”

Turning on a needle-thin heel, she returns to the bar. I linger a bit, considering what just happened. I know Amy has secrets, but I also know how she looked at me just now. Her emotions were plain on her face, and the truth hit me so hard.

Despite what she said, I did make it in. Somehow I got past the guards, past the running, into her heart. Now I don’t know what will happen. Will she fight me out or will she let me stay? So much depends on how I handle this, and I’ve obligated myself to help Paige.

With a deep exhale, I return to the bar, to where my date is sitting at a tall table, a pale yellow cocktail in front of her.

Ice-blue eyes blink to me, and she’s controlled excitement. “What did you do back there?

I’m not sure what she means, so I stall. “I ran into Karen, but we only exchanged greetings.”

“I was right, then.” She whispers, sipping her drink. “It’s working.”

Paige suggested we come to Studio O tonight because she had reason to believe Karen would be here. The two of us appearing together in front of her and her minions seems like the quickest way to accomplish our goals and return to normal.

“So we’re done?” I quickly scroll through all the possibilities—texting Amy versus calling versus going straight to her house...

“Not yet.” Paige places a hand on my forearm and leans into my ear. “We’ll see how it goes at the gala.”

Her lips brush the skin at my ear and then she leans back and gives me a naughty smile. It’s all part of the act, just like earlier when she leaned to me and whispered, “I’m going to laugh like you said something funny.”

Clearly, we’re very good actors. The betrayal on Amy’s face still hits me like a sledgehammer. I feel like a fucking ass, and all I want to do is find her and hold her, explain all of this to her. But I can’t. I gave my word.

Smiling, I lift Paige’s slim hand and place it in mine. My voice is so low, only the two of us can hear it. “This charade is seriously killing my chances with someone.”

She blinks those gorgeous blues up at me and leans her head on her hand. Her smile is pure bedroom. “Think of it as making the world a better place.”

* * *

Amy

I never call the car. I’m on the street, walking east along Illinois in the direction of Sylvia’s Lakefront condo. Wind sweeps down through the high rises, pushing my hair off my shoulders. It’s always so windy in Chicago. I pause and close my eyes, breathing it in. Cleansing breaths.

My brain buzzes from all the gin-laced champagne followed by vodka shots, and I’m in a haze of confusion over what just happened. Why am I reacting this way? I need to think it out, isolate these feelings, name them, and put them the fuck away.

It’s simple logic. Marcus Merritt distracted me enough that I stumbled into thinking I need him somehow. Ridiculous. Now clearly he’s moved on, and I’m stuck in the most stereotypical female response on the planet—jealousy, hurt, offense. Good God, Amy! How have I let this happen?

Shaking myself, I fight it. Emotions are chemicals and social pressure. Marketing gimmicks that make you believe in things like overwhelming love, love you can’t live without, heroes and soul mates, and the fantasy of one perfect person for each human. Take it from a master marketer: It’s all an Enormous LIE.

I learned first-hand, at my father’s knee no less, love is never a two-way street. It’s always one person giving and another taking—taking everything the other person is willing to give, always demanding more. Demanding everything. Until the taker has had enough or becomes bored or finds something new, and the giver is left broken and empty with nothing.

A man sits on the street holding a sign about being hungry. Lifting my clutch, I dig through the slim bag and out drops what looks like a fifty. I don’t even care. I’m lost in my haze of buzzed rationalization. He makes a noise, and I stumble onward. Only now, my phone is in my hand. I stop and stare at it several long moments. His name is on the screen and my thumb hovers over the green button. Did I push it?

Eyes closed, the slim device is at my ear. It only rings once before the warm vibration of his voice fills my brain, flooding my core with humming emotion.

“Amy?”

“So it’s like that?” My voice breaks. I can barely breathe, but I take a sniff and push on. “You quit on a dime. No looking back?”

The sound of his exhale meets my ear before he speaks. “What am I supposed to do? Do you even remember what you said to me? How you acted?”

“I said I needed time.” Good god, I’m crying. “I asked you to give me time.”

Did I say the same thing twice? I’m so pathetic. A truck races by driving way too fast for the downtown area, the roaring engine filling my phone.

“Wait. Where are you?” Concern tightens his voice.

“I have no idea where I am.” I continue walking east, and somewhere in my peripheral, I sense someone following me. “I’m on Illinois. I think Wabash is the next block.”

“You’re walking on the street? Alone?!” Marcus’s voice sounds like he’s moving fast. A brush over the receiver, and I hear a voice muffled in the background. More fast movements, and he’s back. “Do you see a restaurant or somewhere you can step inside?”

“I passed Mink’s just a second ago.” Looking back over my shoulder, I catch the eye of a man lurking in the shadows, following me. I think it’s the beggar. My shoulders tense. “Maybe I should go back?”

A thump sounds through the phone. “I’m in my car headed your direction. Just keep moving. Try to stay near people.” He makes a little growl. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“I can’t believe you did this!”

“Amy, fucking Christ!”

“That’s not my name.” I’m drunk and pouty, and I almost wish something bad would happen to me. That would show him.

Just then, the guy I dropped a fifty on steps out right in front of me. “I take it back!” I scream, and my phone hits the pavement.

The greasy, mop-headed man’s brow lines and he seems confused. “I figured you made a mistake.” He holds the large bill out to me. “Did you mean to give me something smaller?”

I’m not sure if this is a test or if I’m going crazy. “N-No. I mean... I don’t know. Just keep it.”

Tears flood my eyes again, and I can’t tell if I’m terrified or heartbroken or some mixture of both. He reaches for my arm, and I almost fall in my effort to get away.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “You seem like you’re not okay.”

A screech of tires, and my foggy brain registers Marcus’s voice yelling my name. Next thing I know, he’s throwing the beggar back against the wall. Their voices are raised and the man keeps holding up the money insisting he wanted to give it back.

I lean down to pick up my phone. Miraculously it’s not broken, then I collapse against the wall of a shop, waiting for what’s to come. Finally, Marcus seems to relent. He releases the man and the exchange words before the guy shuffles away.

His hands are on his hips, and he’s breathing hard when he turns to face me, fire blazing in his eyes. I can’t help it. I love the way he looks at me. I love how protective he is. My chest aches for him.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” His eyes flash.

My chin drops. “I was going to call a car...” I can’t talk anymore. I’m too weak and spent.

As if he can sense it, he steps forward, pulling me to his chest and wrapping me in his arms. It takes every ounce of strength I possess not to break down completely. Still, I know he feels me trembling.

“Stop now,” he soothes. “You’re okay.”

His hand is at the back of my head, fingers threading in my hair, and I want to bury my face in his neck and never stop breathing his crisp linen scent.

“Come on.” He leads me to his waiting Audi, opening the door, and helping me inside.

It’s been weeks since I sat in this seat, that night we went to Paul and Kitty’s. It seems so long ago, but it wasn’t. He’s in the driver’s seat, steering us toward Sylvia’s condo.

“What were you doing walking home alone? I thought you were at the bar with your friend.” His eyes never leave the road, and his jaw is tight. I watch the lights flicker across his stony expression.

I don’t answer him. I can’t. We pass through a few traffic signals, and I see Mom’s building rising ahead of us. “This is my stop.”

Exhaling a frustrated noise, he pulls into a parallel space. “I’ll walk you up.”

“That’s not necessary.” I pull the handle and step out of his car.

Slamming the door, I’m headed fast for the glass doors of the front entrance, where a doorman stands looking out. In a swirl of heat, Marcus is at my side, catching my arm.

“Don’t make me put you over my shoulder.” His stern tone fills my mind with this weekend, and like Pavlov’s fucking dog, my mouth waters. Fight that.

My brain is slowly emerging from the fog of too much alcohol, and I find my fight. “Shouldn’t you be with Paige?”

Anger lines his handsome face, and his eyes move from my mouth to my eyes in a slow sweep, feeling almost as good as the kiss I know he wants to give me.

“I told her I needed to check on a friend.”

“So I’m a friend now.” I try to push past, to go inside, but he grabs my arm and jerks me back. We’re in the shadows, my back against the wall.

He leans in close, and the heat of his body clouds my brain. “You know you’re more than that.”

His words flip my stomach. I’m so messed up. I asked him for space, and he gave it to me. I wanted him, and he’s here in front of me. Only, he was with someone else tonight. Is it cheating if he was mine first? Mine? Did I actually think that word?

“Oh, god.” I sigh, turning away from his confusing heat. “You humiliated me in front of Karen.”

Large hands are on my shoulders. His thumbs trace tingling lines along the sides of my jaw. “What was that about?”

Pulling away from his touch, “I don’t want to talk about it.” My chest clenches, and I drop my face into my hand. “I wish...”

I’m in his arms, his body burning mine. “What do you wish?”

The words are barely a whisper. “I wish I could fly away from here.”

I feel him gently move me to face him again, sliding the hair off my cheek. “We could fly together.”

Blinking my eyes open, we’re so close. A breath, and our lips would meet. My brow collapses. “Why are you with her?”

“I—”

“Don’t answer that.” Jerking away, I turn to the side. “I don’t have the right to ask it.”

“Amy.” He touches me so gently. “I meant everything I said to you on that boat.”

“The boat.”  A whisper. A wish. “I thought you’d understand.”

“I don’t.” Warm breath dances across my cheek. “But I want to.”

Tears gather in my eyes, and I can’t speak.

Large hands circle my waist. “I want to kiss you.”

I want that so much. “I’d better go inside.”

“I know. Sylvia.”

Our eyes meet, and I see the break in his.

“Goodnight.”

No allowing any time for us to hesitate or make a wrong choice, I push off and run to the doors.