Page 15 of Daddy Marc's Gem

The larger man turned, his stance shifting from predatory to uncertainty as he took in Marc’s commanding presence. Though not as physically imposing as the bruiser, Marc radiated an authority that seemed to fill the space between them.

“No problem,” the man said, taking a small step back. “Just having a friendly chat with the new kid.”

Marc's eyes never left the man’s face, though Foster could tell he was acutely aware of his presence.

“That’s not what it looked like to me,” Marc growled. “And I believe the bracelets on his wrist makes it clear he's not interested in conversation.”

The guy flicked his eye down to Foster’s wrist and frowned. Foster had finally managed to set the other rubbery item free. The bruiser scratched his bald head.

“What’s the white one supposed to mean again?” He grunted. “This place has too many rules to keep track of.”

A tall, model-worthy man in a designer suit appeared beside them as if summoned by the tension in the air. He could almost be Marc’s brother. They were about the same age, and both had dark beards and hair with a sprinkling of silver.

“Everything okay here?” His question was directed at Marc, and Foster sensed they knew each other.

“No,” Marc replied with a bite in his tone. “This gentleman seems to be having trouble understanding the club’s bracelet system.”

The guy held up his palms as if in surrender. “Look, I don’t know who you guys are, but I didn’t see that other bracelet before. It’s wicked dark in here and I’m new to the club myself.”

Marc’s friend spoke up. “I’m the owner, Master Zane. And seeing as you’re new and the rules are a bit fuzzy to you, maybe take the night off and reacquaint yourself with them.” Zane turned to Marc. “I’ll be escorting this gentleman out. You’ve got this under control?”

Marc moved closer to Foster, and he resisted the urge to jump into his arms. When Marc draped an arm around his shoulders, Foster wanted to melt into his side.

“Absolutely.”

Marc and Zane exchanged nods right as a man who was about the same size as the bruiser approached. “Need some help, boss?”

The bruiser grumbled something under his breath. “Come on, guys. I’m not gonna make trouble. No need to call the Staties or nothing. I’ll go.”

Master Zane crossed his arms. “Perhaps there’s no reason to call the police as of now, but let’s keep it that way.”

As Master Zane and his security staff escorted the bruiser out of the club, Marc turned to Foster, his expression questioning. The concern etched in Marc’s features made Foster’s heart rate increase.

“Are you okay?” Marc’s voice was gentle but tense, his arm still resting protectively on Foster’s shoulders.

Foster nodded, though his hands trembled slightly. “I'm fine. Just... taken aback, I guess.” He attempted a weak smile. “I didn’t think this all the way through. Plus, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Marc’s expression shifted to something more complex—surprise, confusion, and something that looked like hurt. “I could say the same thing. What are you doing here, Foster? And why didn't you tell me you were coming?”

Before Foster could formulate an answer, Marc glanced around at the crowded club, his jaw clenching. “This isn’t the place for this conversation.” He hesitated before speaking again. “Let me take you somewhere quieter.” Marc guided him with a firm but gentle hand at the small of his back. “Zane has an office we can use.”

Foster’s heartbeat hadn’t slowed since his encounter with the aggressive stranger. Now, with Marc’s steady presence beside him, his anxiety transformed into a different kind of nervousness. He’d come here hoping to better understand Marc’s world, and instead, he’d managed to create a scene and possibly embarrass him.

“I'm sorry,” Foster said as they navigated through the club. “I didn't mean to cause trouble.”

Marc’s expression softened. “Don't apologize for what that ape did. But I need to know what you’re doing here alone.”

They made their way down one of the hallways next to the bar, then once they reached the end, passed through a door marked ‘Private’. He was momentarily distracted by how traditional and welcoming the large space was. Yes, leather furniture was an integral part of the decor, but so were rich woods, nautical artifacts, and an impressive antique book collection.

Foster sank into a plush armchair, his knees wobbling like jelly. Marc remained standing, concern etched across his handsome features.

“I should’ve been honest with you,” Foster blurted, unable to bear the silence. “About wanting to come here, I mean.”

Marc ran a hand through his dark hair, disturbing its usual perfect arrangement. “Why didn’t you simply ask me to bring you? I would’ve introduced you properly, kept you safe.” The hurt in Marc’s voice made Foster's stomach tighten as he continued, “I didn’t want to pressure you after our date. I was giving you space to think things over.” Marc sighed. “But now I’m thinking I didn’t read you right. That’s on me.”

“Oh.” Foster folded his hands in his lap to keep his fingers still. “I don’t think you were wrong. Ididtell you I didn’t want to talk about anything like that on Saturday. So when you didn’t call, I thought maybe you’d lost interest because I was confused about your lifestyle. That’s when I…” He rubbed his forehead. “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Marc lowered to his haunches in front of Marc’s chair. “What did?”

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