Page 103 of Marked

“Still processing all the local history, sir. Though these three have been filling in some interesting details about the early settlers.”

Something passed between the professor and Marcus—another one of those looks I was becoming far too familiar with.

“Yes, well”—Patterson adjusted his glasses—“you’re in good hands for that particular lesson. I’ll leave you to your dinner.” He retreated with surprising speed for a man his age.

“Popular tonight, aren’t we?” I mused, watching the group of leather-jacketed guys from the bookstore try to catch my eye from the bar. The brothers had positioned me so I faced the ocean, but I could still see most of the restaurant reflected in the windows.

“Too popular,” Derek muttered, shifting closer. His thigh pressed against mine under the table, warm and solid.

A sleek-looking waitress appeared, her eyes downcast as she addressed Marcus. “Good evening, Mr. Stone. The usual wine?”

“Please. And bring the chef’s tasting menu for four.” Marcus didn’t even glance at the leather-bound menus being distributed. “Unless you’d prefer something specific?” His eyes met mine, softer than they’d been with the waitress.

“I trust your judgment,” I said, then couldn’t resist adding, “though if this is one of those places that serves microscopic portions on giant plates, we might need to convince Maria to feed us when we get back. I’ve seen what Jorge can do with late-night cravings.”

“Don’t worry, baby.” Caleb’s breath was warm against my ear. “The portions here are generous even for the tasting menu. Chef Antoine knows better than to let a Stone party leave hungry.”

The way he said it made heat crawl up my neck. Derek shifted closer, his presence warm and solid beside me, while Marcus’ intense gaze from across the table made my pulse jump.

“You three really need to work on your cryptic comments,” I managed, proud that my voice stayed steady.

The brothers exchanged another one of their silent looks, this one accompanied by what felt like a crackle of energy in the air. Before I could comment, the wine arrived—a deep red that gleamed like garnets.

Marcus swirled his glass, his eyes never leaving mine. The way he watched me over the rim made something wild stir inside me.

“Not your usual wine choice?” Caleb teased, noticing my careful sip.

“My usual comes in a box with cartoon animals on it,” I admitted, earning a collective look of horror from all three brothers.

“We’ll have to fix that.” Marcus’ smile was warm, though his eyes still held that intensity that made my pulse jump.

“Let me guess—you three are wine connoisseurs too? Along with your expertise in mansions, suits, and intimidating looks?”

Derek actually cracked a smile. “You forgot cars.”

“And languages,” Caleb added, leaning close enough that I could feel his warmth. “Marcus speaks five.”

“Show-offs,” I muttered into my glass, yet couldn’t help smiling. The wine was excellent, spreading warmth through my veins and making everything feel softer.

Above us, stars had begun to appear through the glass ceiling, turning the conservatory into our own private galaxy. The ocean stretched dark and endless beyond the windows, waves catching glimpses of silver starlight.

“You’re staring again,” I told Marcus, emboldened by the wine and the intimacy of the setting.

“Can you blame me?” His voice was low, meant just for us. The look he gave me over his wineglass made heat crawl up my neck.

“Careful, Marcus,” Caleb’s breath ghosted my ear. “You’re making our baby blush.”

The first course arrived—seared scallops nestled on beds of micro-greens, dotted with golden caviar. The scallop melted on my tongue, perfectly cooked with a hint of saffron. I couldn’t help the small sound of pleasure that escaped me.

Caleb’s breath hitched beside me. “Baby makes the prettiest noises, doesn’t he?”

Derek shot Caleb a warning look, but I could see the way his eyes had darkened at my reaction to the food.

The next course was a delicate hamachi crudo with yuzu pearls and micro shiso. The fish gleamed like mother-of-pearl under the starlight. “This is beautiful,” I murmured, admiring the artful presentation.

“Try it,” Marcus encouraged, his eyes never leaving my face.

The flavors exploded on my tongue—bright citrus, buttery fish, and a hint of heat from hidden wasabi. Another involuntary sound of pleasure escaped me.

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