Page 47 of Fool's Gold

The screening finally ends, and I’m numb, limp, worn out. I let Marcus drag me out of the theater while he holds up his hand to the cameras like a shield, escorting me to the waiting car without granting a single interview. So much for networking.

My stomach hollows out further, and the dress I chose is suddenly a little too tight, too high, for me. This is what happens when the liquor is out of your system. It’s not like it would last forever. And I knew it when I tried to get drunk.

Life kinda sucks without it.

Marcus says nothing throughout the entire drive back to the apartment, keeping his distance from me. Without his voice, the silence is weighty. It’s lonely when it should be comforting.

The drive passes quickly, and exhaustion sinks me lower into my seat than before. This day passed so quickly that everything that transpired has all melded into one giant memory I want to forget.

He pulls up not to the apartment like I thought, but in front of my parents’ house once more.

“I thought you were going back to your place.”

“What difference will it make?” He’s out of the car and letting the door slam behind him in the next breath.

I suck air into my overworked lungs, pausing for a beat before following him. Marcus swivels around like he’s realized he’s acting like a pig and grabs the door handle in the same beat I push it open. His glare is weighted and heavy on my skin.

He strides beside me, slowing his steps to accommodate my mincing stride. My feet are killing me. But the moment he unlocks the front door, he’s gone, disappearing into the darkness like the shadows in the front hallway have reached up to swallow him whole.

“Marcus, wait.”

I follow him inside, and my heels echo, a beating click like a heart. The rhythm falters, but he doesn’t slow, heading into the living room. Whatever his agitation, this isn’t what we need between us. It will make going forward uncomfortable and out of control in a way I can’t handle.

“Marcus, talk to me. Do you want me to apologize for the dress?”

Is it because I didn’t do exactly what he wanted me to do?

In the next beat, he launches himself at me. He snakes his hand around the back of my neck and maneuvers us seamlessly, pressing my spine into the wall. Caging me with his body, he arches his hips against mine to pin me in place. He slides his opposite hand down my chest, my ribcage, pausing at the dip of my waist. After securing my wrist in his grip, he drags my arm above my head with such purposeful slowness I lose the air in my lungs. My stomach goes tight, and heat pools between my legs in an instant.

The look in his eyes—

They’ve darkened to onyx when they meet mine. He grabs my other wrist and adds it to the one above my head, forcing my breasts to push against his chest.

He draws his nose along the side of my face. “Do you fucking get it?” he growls. “You belong to me. And no one else. No one should ever look at you the way that boy did because you’re mine. Only mine.”

SIXTEEN

Ihave no business staking my claim on her.

No business touching her this way and caging her in just to feel the way her chest hitches when I press closer.

True terror split through me seeing her with Jacob, and worse, the admission of my worst fear: losing her to someone better than me. And Jacob Kessler is among the best.

He’s got a decent head on his shoulders, the raw talent to make it to the big leagues, and the stubbornness to last a long time in a temporary business. He was also on People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” list.

Jacob is a much better match for Empire than I would ever hope to be. They are of similar age, they work in the same profession, he’s stayed out of the tabloids, and he’s got a fucking college degree.

What do I have?

Nothing.

With her body trembling against mine, trapped, I’m powerless to walk away. Empire is mine.

There’s no more being patient with her and no more telling myself to go easy. I’ll be damned for what we’re about to do, and my pulse races at the idea of finally getting to feel her the way I want to: clenched around my cock.

She lifts her chin to me. “Then prove it,” she whispers. “Actually do something about it instead of talking.”

I draw my nose against hers, and she gasps. “You want me to prove it?”

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