Page 36 of Daddy Marc's Gem

“Marc,” Foster breathed, unable to keep the relief from his voice. “This is Edward. My ex. He’s just informed me he’s breaking our lease agreement. I have thirty days to move out.”

Marc’s expression remained neutral, but Foster noted the slight tightening around his eyes—a tell he’d begun to recognize when his Daddy was displeased. Marc closed the distance between them with measured steps, coming to stand beside Foster, his warm presence immediately steadying.

“I see,” Marc said, his tone deceptively mild as he extended his hand. “Marc Jameson.”

Edward hesitated before accepting the handshake, his eyes darting between them. “Edward Prescott. Foster and I have some business to discuss, so if you don't mind—”

“Actually,” Marc interrupted, his grip visibly tightening on Edward’s hand before releasing it, “I do mind. Foster appears upset, and I don’t like seeing him upset.”

Edward took a step back, his confidence seeming to waver under Marc’s steady gaze. “Listen, this doesn’t concern you. This is between me and Foster.”

“That's where you’re wrong.” Marc‘s calm voice carried an undercurrent of steel. “Anything that affects Foster concerns me.”

The possessiveness in Marc’s tone made Foster’s heart race, and he moved closer to his Daddy’s side. Edward tilted his head as he regarded them, realization finally dawning on his face.

“Oh, I get it now. You two are...” He let out a derisive laugh. “Well, that didn’t take long. Found yourself a protector, Foster? How predictable.”

Marc tensed beside him, though his Daddy’s expression remained impassive. A month ago, Foster would’ve shrunk under Edward’s mocking tone, would’ve allowed himself to believe that everything was his fault, that he didn’t deserve to be treated fairly. But standing next to Marc, feeling the solid warmth of his presence, he knew he was no longer that person.

“That’s right,” Marc said, his hand resting at the small of Foster’s back. “Foster and I are together, and I take care of him because he’s the most precious thing in the world to me. Unlike some people, I know how to treat someone with respect and decency.”

Edward’s lips curled into a sneer. “Well, good luck with that. Foster’s always been a bit needy. Clingy. Never could stand on his own two feet.”

Marc’s fingers pressed slightly firmer against Foster’s back, a subtle sign for him to stay calm. “I think you’ve said what you came to say. It’s time for you to leave.”

“Look,” Edward continued, ignoring Marc’s dismissal, “I’m just being practical here. The lease is broken. It’s all legal.” He gestured vaguely toward Foster, who was shifting his weight again, the plug making it impossible to stand completely still. “Do yourself a favor and move on.”

“I have,” growled Foster, surprising himself - and it seemed Marc and Edward - with the anger in his tone. “I’ve got the papers, got the message. I assume this means I never have to see or speak to you again?”

Edward’s eyes widened momentarily then narrowed again. “That’s right. Once you’re out, we’re done. Forever.” He glanced between them, lips pursed. “Maybe someday you’ll find someone who’ll put up with all your—”

“He already has,” Marc cut in, his voice low and dangerous. “And I'd suggest you watch how you speak to him.”

Edward flinched, taking a small step back. Foster observed the calculation in his ex’s eyes—the realization that Marc wasn’t someone to be trifled with. Edward might be wealthy and arrogant, but Marc possessed a quiet authority that made his ex seem small.

“Whatever,” Edward muttered, retreating another step. “Thirty days, Foster. Not a day more.”

He marched off as if he’d somehow won a mysterious award for having the last word. Once he sped off in his BMW, Foster’s knees wobbled, and he felt as if he might faint.

“Hey, be careful.” Marc wrapped an arm around his waist, steadying him. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you inside.”

Foster put a hand to his forehead, his vision a bit swimmy. “I can’t believe what nerve he has. Why wasn’t it obvious before? What’s wrong with me?”

Marc let out a low growl. “Not a damn thing, now that you’ve gotten that asshole out of your life for good. I’m so proudof you for standing up for yourself. That was an amazing, brave thing to do.”

Foster breath caught, and he swallowed past a lump in his throat. “You mean that?”

Marc paused from guiding him to the front door and embraced him. “Of course I do. Remember, I never say anything I don’t mean. Now, let’s get you inside.”

Once they reached the living room, Marc guided Foster to the couch, his large hands gentle as he eased him down. Foster winced as the plug shifted again, and Marc's eyes softened with understanding.

“Let’s get you some water, sweetheart.”

Marc’s voice was low and soothing, and Foster needed a whole lot of that right now.

Marc disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a glass and taking a seat next to him.

“Drink this, boy. Slowly.”

---