Page 25 of Forever Mine

As soon as I climb into bed, Marcus grabs me and wraps his body around mine. I feel emotion clogging my throat as I think about my situation. Could I make it work with Marcus? Could we be more than just fuck buddies? He seems interested in a relationship. I’ve been burned so many times in the past that I’ve just naturally pushed the thought of a relationship out of my brain. I’ve been happy just having situationships and messing around. I know I don’t want kids, so I’m not concerned about finding a guy like that. Finding a partner for life ... well, that is a different ballgame. I would love to have someone that matches my energy. Has the same goals for life. Meets my needs both in and out of the bedroom. But that’s a pipe dream. So I’ll continue living it up with situationships like Marcus.

I figure it’ll be a long night of tossing and turning, but Marcus begins stroking my spine with one hand. It relaxes me so much I fall into a deep sleep.

I wake feeling remarkably refreshed and energized. I decide this is a sign that I should give Marcus a chance. I vow to push any and all thoughts of Gabriel well into the back of my mind and view him solely as my boss.

It’s fine.

I can make this work.

If only I trusted my gut, that nagging gut instinct that said Marcus was bad news and Gabriel was the one to trust, I would save myself a lot of anguish. But, hindsight.

CHAPTER TEN

Gabriel

In the last four months, I’ve been alone with Monica a whopping two times. Twice. While I know some of that has been due to schedules and conflicts, it’s obvious she’s back to avoiding me. It appears her relationship with Marcus has continued and gotten more serious. I’ve seen them out a couple of times, and he flashes me a victorious grin each time. Monica never looks fully relaxed and at peace. I’m concerned.

I’ve wracked my brain on where I know Marcus from. I’ve even called Tommy, who is still on active duty, and asked him to look into our past soldiers. After discovering Marcus’s last name is Shields, I became even more concerned when there wasn’t an online footprint from a few years ago. Marcus Shields just appeared four years ago. Nothing before that.

My entire career in the Army was spent doing a variety of things. I even dabbled in Intelligence for a bit. An online footprint for a thirty-five-year-old man who only shows up for a few years tells me his name isn’t actually Marcus Shields.

It’s another Friday night, and I met Tommy for dinner. He tried to get me to agree to hit a bar again, but I said no. I’m in no mood. Work is busy, I’m lonely as fuck, and I don’t feel like dealing with a one-night stand situation.

“You should get on some dating apps, man. You need to get laid,” Tommy tells me.

“Fuck no. I’m not interested in women asking me what’s my favorite color and all that bullshit,” I respond.

“You still need to get laid. You’re so tightly wound I’m surprised you can relax in the booth,” Tommy says. I fucking know.

“I’m worried about this kid I had you look into. Something’s not right.”

“You think he’s trouble?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think your girl is in danger?” Tommy asks. I don’t miss the obvious inflection in his tone when he says, ‘your girl.’

“She’s not my girl. She’s my employee,” I stammer. I’d love for her to be my girl. Any interactions we have during staff meetings or at the office just cement the fact that she’s amazing. I’ve read the Vivid Realty handbook as a precaution. No rules about dating a co-worker or subordinate.

“She may not currently be your girl, but youwanther to be your girl,” Tommy says, and I sigh as I nod. No sense in lying to him about it. He knows me too well.

“I know him from somewhere, Tom. Every gut instinct I have says he’s bad news, but I can’t just go to her and tell her that. I need evidence.”

I made a comment to her last week that insinuated I didn’t like Marcus, and she bit my head off. That Italian temper that Meghan spoke about is quite evident. I’m incredibly frustrated, both emotionally and sexually, that I can’t move forward.

“Not much you can do, Gabriel. Just keep an eye out for her. Angel Gabriel, at her service. Or was it Archangel Gabriel?” Tommy ponders.

“Archangel.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m named for him. Archangel Gabriel. He was the keeper of visions,” I explain.

“You were literally named after an archangel?”

“Yes?” I’m puzzled as to why he’s so confused.

“Like, why?”

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