Page 80 of Due Diligence

I lifted both eyebrows.

“Do you want a copy of the contract?” he inquired, using that quick, informative tone he used at the office. “You know what? Forget I asked. I’ll just forward you a copy. What’s your personal email address?”

“I don’t want a copy of your contract.” Once again, I pulled away from him and put some space between us.

Marcus let out another sigh. “I’m happy you came, Cass. I’ve wanted to have you over since last Friday.”

Happy? He was killing me. I came here to tell him off and he was treating this like a sleepover…which was cute, but still so frustrating.

I resolved to stay focused on the reason I came here. “So you can have secret sex with me and then bring hotter, smarter girls to parties?” I asked.

“There’s literally no such thing as a woman hotter or smarter than you,” he responded, and I hated how much that comment made my stomach flicker with excitement. “Can I get you a drink, by the way? Something to eat? You’re probably hungry.”

“I’m fine.”

“Feel free to take your shoes off if you want,” he went on as he turned and walked away from me. He headed in the direction of his kitchen. “You can keep them on if you prefer, but I’m guessing your feet are tired.”

I looked down at my heels and I briefly considered how much pain I was willing to endure just to prove him wrong. But when I looked up again and saw he was pouring two glasses of red wine, I realized there was a decent chance I would be here for a while. As subtly as I could, I kicked off my heels.

Marcus walked over with both glasses of wine. He handed them to me, saying, “There you go,” before he bent down and picked up my heels. He brought them over to a side closet by the front door, and he carefully placed them inside.

“Frank will chew them if I don’t hide them,” he explained. Then, he took one of the glasses of wine from me and motioned for me to follow him with a tilt of his head.

“I’m not here for wine and conversation.”

“You’re here to fight,” he responded factually. He walked over to a white sofa and he took a seat. Instead of joining him on the same sofa, I took a seat on the adjacent one. That clearly annoyed him, but he didn’t say a word.

“So what you’re telling me,” I said, “is that your contract requires you to bring dates to these parties, and if you don’t…”

“There would be consequences,” he finished flatly. “I’m not sure how serious that all is. I’ve never actually broken a single line in the contract until you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “None of it?”

“Nope.”

“And I could have been your date?” I went on, trying to catch him in a lie. “If I had gone to the party with you, even though we’re working together on due diligence, that would have been fine?”

“I probably could have gotten Lilac to approve it, sure,” he said. “I mean, as far as anyone knows, you’re a stunningly attractive woman with a stable job and a double Ivy League pedigree. Most people have no idea you let guys fuck you in stairwells after happy hour.”

Those words burned right through me, making me wish I weren’t so stubborn. He was right; I came here to fight. But when he spoke to me like that, it made me want to give myself to him in every way possible. It made me want to beg him totake me, to defile me, to do anything he wanted to me with those skilled hands and that stern COO voice.

I took a long drink from my wine, hoping it would calm my nerves. “You know Davenport-Ridgeway can’t find out about this. I couldn’t have gone with you, even if I wanted.”

“Ifyou wanted?” he questioned, his beautiful eyes narrowing. “Why didn’t you want to go with me, Cass?”

I let out a sigh. “We barely know each other,” I replied, wishing I had prepared a better answer for this inevitable question. “It’s only been a week since the first time we hooked up.”

“So?”

“So, you probably have women falling over themselves to be with you. You don’t need me getting in the way right when you’re at your sexual prime.”

He was clearly unconvinced. I could tell by the way he swirled his glass and took an extended drink.

“A couple thoughts there,” he responded after a beat. “One, I don’t care what women want from me. I have a very low-key love life.”

“Liar.”

“Pardon?”

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