Page 43 of Tied Up in Riches

“Morning,” he says, his deep first words of the day tone doing something to my insides. It’s so foreign, us being together in bed. Yet, it’s casual, like we’ve done it a hundred times. Why is he working so much, though?

“I thought you were on vacation?”

He glances at me again before focusing back on his screen. “You were sleeping. Might as well be productive.”

“You don’t know how to rest, do you?”

“I like work.”

“Uh-huh.” I sit, tugging the edge of his shirt down before sliding out of bed to get ready.

“What’s the plan for today?” he asks. When I glance up from where I’m ruffling through my suitcase on the floor, his fingers are still hovering over the keyboard like he intends to keep writing.

“My mom is working a wedding. She’s in charge of catering, so after she yells at a bunch of people, she’ll have time to meet us for lunch. I thought maybe after that I could show you around the club? I kind of hate it there, but it is where I grew up. You probably don’t care about that, though. Today is mostly a free day.”

“I’d love to see it.” He hesitates, but then closes his laptop.

“Okay. It really is beautiful. And I can show you all the places I used to hide from Mom.” I chuckle, excited to show him the disabled laundry elevator shaft and wondering if I’ll still fit in it.

“Can’t wait. How fancy is this place? Does it matter what I wear?”

“It’s faaaaancy. I should probably wear a dress, but no thanks. I’ll wear this.” I pull out a sheer loose-fitting white tank that I plan to french tuck into my jeans from my bag. “Your usual is perfect.”

With my clothes in one hand and my curling iron in the other, I retreat to the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, I rejoin Marcus in the room. He’s in the same position he was to sleep in, but fully clothed now. Black jeans are tight around his bulky thighs and his feet are crossed at the ankle. He’s swapped out a typical gray T-shirt for a button-up rolled to his elbows.

He looks up from his computer resting on his lap again, his eyes narrowing as they take me in. “You look . . . different.”

I’d take offense, but I know I do. I curled my hair and put on more makeup than just light sunscreen foundation and mascara. I did the whole blush and smokey eye thing. The shades of rose I chose do make the green in my eyes pop, but it doesn’t feel like me. “Yeah, well. Not wearing a dress will give my mom enough to complain about. The makeup and hair are the compromises I’m willing to make.”

“And the nails.”

He noticed my nails? It’s something I also hate making time for, but I knew Mom would drag me to the salon as soon as I got here if they weren’t done already. She always says no man will ever believe in my ability to help him if I don’t take my working hands seriously. Whatever the hell that means. “Yeah, those too.”

“For the record, I like the waves better.”

Whether it’s to make me feel better or the truth, I grin. “Thanks. It’s this sea salt spray that gives the same effect as the ocean in Thailand.” I went through seven until I found the perfect one. I can’t help but smile at the discovery. A piece of Thai Brooke that’s easy to hold onto.

“A glimmer?” he asks, closing his laptop and sliding it off him to stand from the bed.

“Definitely. You ready?”

“I updated my will in case I don’t survive lunch with the devil. So, I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

Laughing, I look over my shoulder on the way out the door. “Don’t worry, she prefers slow torture over a quick death. You’ve got plenty more days left in you.”

Chapter nineteen

Marcus

“Wow.” My eyes scan slowly from left to right when we walk to the top of the outside staircase.

“It sure is something, huh?”

The white marble stairs split to either side with three separate pools cascading down the middle. It opens to a white cement runway of sorts leading to a long pergola draped in ivy curtains and orange flower bouquets. The rest of the area is covered by perfectly manicured bright green grass and the edge of the property is lined by tall forest green trees.

I’m not in denial about the amount of money I have, and I could very easily belong to a club like this, or have a house as extravagant. Despite not wanting people to know I’m well-off, I don’t have any desire for it. Regardless, there’s no denying this property is extraordinary.

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