Page 12 of All That Glitters

Embarrassment churns my stomach, and my insides wobble a little bit. I’m happy to be sitting down with my legs crossed on the bed before Marcus notices any cracks in my veneer. We can pretend all is well and that I’m not totally mortified at my bestie calling him hot.

My guardian isn’t hot.

Okay, well, that’s a lie. He is. He’s drop dead gorgeous in a surly, I’ll-bite-your-head-off-and-you’re-gonna-like-it kind of way, but he’s never looked at me the way a man looks at a woman he wants.

Why would he?

I’m nothing but a spoiled brat to him. and the smartest thing for me to do is consider him an uncle. Uncles are totally off limits.

“I’ll talk to you later.” I mutter the last statement to River, pushing the hair out of my eyes.

“Call me soon, okay? I want to know everything,” River answers before pressing the screen to end the call. Her eyes were lit by mischief. “Bye bye!”

Hot Daddy Marcus indeed.

If he overheard, I’ll never be able to live it down.

I cover my fluster by shifting to my feet, tossing the tablet aside, and forcing Marcus to follow me out of the room. My stomach does an uncomfortable flip, trying to get out of my body. Nerves, or something like them, tingle through my limbs with each step. “If you want to talk to me, then talk. I’m hungry. Haven’t eaten anything today.”

He’s a silent black cloud behind me.

My stomach does grumble as I pull open the fridge and reach for the cheese drawer on autopilot. Every bit of my attention is trained on him and the way he burst into my room making demands. “You wanted to talk to me badly enough to interrupt my phone call. You can tell me everything while I make a sandwich, Mr. Grumpy,” I say.

He rests his hand on the countertop beside me until the air molecules in the room disappear one by one and my lungs hitch.

He’s too close for comfort, practically breathing down my neck with whatever he wanted to say, something important enough to force me off the phone. Or maybe that’s his way of showing his dominance. Might as well bite the back of my neck or piss on my leg.

I’d been safe in the room, even though it was harder to breathe with him stealing the air in the small space.

Now, I’m out in the open because I hadn’t wanted to be hedged in, and he does it anyway, by simply existing in the same space as me.

“Well?” I press him. “What is it? You’ve got to at least talk to me if you’re going to be a dick about things.”

“Are you going to actually look at me, or are you going to pretend we’re not in the same room?” he retorts.

“I’m going to make a sandwich, unless you want me to starve. I’m nothing but skin and bones these days.”

Like an uncle, I repeat, two pieces of bread next to each other on the plate, the cheese at the ready. He’s nothing but an uncle to me, and that’s the way it’s always been. It doesn’t matter how absolutely gorgeous he is, especially when he’s angry. And he’s always angry.

Some men are handsome when they smile: Marcus Ortega is transformed when he glowers.

“Then maybe you need to actually eat when I cook for you.”

“I would if you made something other than spaghetti and didn’t burn the sauce every single time.” I hastily finish assembling the sandwich, but my stomach growls for a completely different reason when Marcus steps closer and I catch another whiff of his scent.

“I heard from the producers of Wretched about an hour ago,” he finally says.

“Did you?” My heart leaps into my throat. “And what did they say?”

He waits for a beat and forces me to turn slowly to face him, blinking him into focus over my shoulder. He doesn’t smile as he tells me, “They wanted to call and tell me personally that they’re interested in you for the part of Alicia.”

It takes a second for his words to sink in, and when they finally do, a switch flips inside me, from excited to nervous and back again before settling into some nebulous confusion in between the two. “You’re serious?”

Marcus’s brows furrow down into a single line. “Of course I’m serious. I wouldn’t bullshit you about this role. It’s the chance of a lifetime, Empire. You’ll finally be able to make a name for yourself, on your own, with your talent.”

It’s something I’ve always worked for and never attained. I’m not even sure I really wanted to get the part. The small voice in the back of my head acknowledges it even as I force it aside, staring at Marcus, because a part of me did. Emotions war, denial and joy and excitement and worry.

I can only focus on Marcus and wait for them to settle.

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