Page 57 of Due Diligence

“Thanks,” Marcus said before he tossed his bar on the table. “I don’t know why I’m eating that. I hate Clif bars.”

“Have you eaten lunch?”

With a grimace, he shook his head. “No time. I wanted to grab something, but—”

“I’ve got it,” I offered as I stood, not waiting for his permission. “I was going to run out anyway.”

Marcus’s shoulders immediately relaxed, like I had just offered to do his taxes for him, rather than simply buy him lunch. “Really? Because that would be so helpful to me right now.”

I nodded. “What do you want? Anything in particular? Any allergies?”

“None. Wait, Cassie—seriously,thank you.”

A shrug. “Relax. I’m probably just going to walk over to Panera. It’s not a big deal.”

He shook his head far longer than he needed to—and I could instantly recognize that somehow, this actually was a big deal to him. That revelation dug into a deep part of my chest—that part that wanted to know everything about this guy.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat. “Sorry. I’m coming off weird right now, I know. I’m just grateful. I’m not used to anyone taking care of me.”

“It’s what friends are for.” When I said the word “friends,” I emphasized it. With a wink, I took my coat off the back of my chair. “I’ll be back soon.”

At the door I paused and I looked back. There, I saw that Marcus was staring at me through the glass, a small smile sitting at the corner of his lips.

Chapter 16: Marcus

I bolted upright, sending Sammy darting off my chest and out of my bedroom, her claws scraping on the hardwood floor as she skittered off into the dark recesses of my apartment. I fumbled for my phone and my glasses at the same time and ended up knocking over my water cup in the process.

“Motherfucker,” I hissed, not realizing I had answered the call.

“Marcus?” I heard Alex say.

“Sorry. I just knocked over my…whatever. Who gives a shit. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responded.

I paused and looked at the time on my phone. It was three in the morning. Three. In the fucking morning. I was standing in my dark bedroom in my underwear. Water dripped off my nightstand and had drenched my Kindle. It was slowly puddling on my bedroom floor, spreading over the hardwood. My cat was staring at me around the corner of my door, her eyes as big as quarters as she watched me. Frank was sitting at attention on hisside of the bed, ready to strike even though he was all bark and no bite.

And this douchebag had the audacity to say, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“So, can I go back to bed?”You complete sociopath.

Alex paused before he said, “Sure, I was just bored. Thought you might be up.”

“It’s a Wednesday, Alex,” I reminded him. “I’m supposed to wake up in two hours. I’m going to be at the office in four hours. Why would I be up?”

“You’re right,” he stated, as if he were reluctantly accepting that I knew my own schedule.

I let out a low exhale and walked over to my bedroom door. I scooped up Sammy and brought her back over to my bed, where I took a seat. “What’s wrong, Alex?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

I brought my hand up and rubbed it over my eyes. “Not true.” I yawned. “I know what you’re like when you’re upset. What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“Yes, you should have.” I released another yawn. “Sorry. What’s wrong?”

He was silent on the other end. I could picture him, standing out in the chilly night on his balcony. Knowing him, he was drinking wine from a coffee mug he had balanced on the railing. On two occasions, he had accidentally knocked the mug off, sending it careening a few dozen floors down. That still never stopped him from doing it again.

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