Page 63 of Stepson

“Holy shit…”

“What?” Gabe asks against my neck before he twists his head back to look. “Holy shit is right.”

I climb from Gabe’s lap and lay all the papers out in front of us. I see the bulge in his jeans from his phone, sticking my hand in to grab it before I start taking pictures of everything for proof.

“Do you think this is true?” Gabe asks as he holds up the latest information we found. “That Rachael is Marcus’s?”

Picturing Maggie’s daughter in my head, it kind of makes sense now. Rachael is more Caucasian than she is African American, and she has the same eyes as Marcus. How the hell didn’t I see it before?

“I think that’s why Maggie is so afraid of him,” I whisper as I continue taking more photos.

“What the fuck?”

My head whips over to Gabe’s movements as I watch him pull out several photos, laying them out on the desk as my hands tremble.

“Are those…” I trail off, picking one up at a time as a sob lodges in my throat.

There, on the desk, are several photos of Gabe and I from the night we first met. They were obviously taken from afar while we were oblivious. These were personal moments, and Marcus was spying on us? But as he continues to lay them out, I soon realize he wasn’t just spying on us in the bar. No, he followed us out to the Jeep, taking pictures of us fucking.

“That fucking bastard,” Gabe barks, tossing the rest down as if he can’t look at them anymore. “He fucking knew all about us. He fucking planned this, didn’t he?!”

I know now this was the night Gabe was arrested for grand theft auto among other things. Marcus had this planned all along. It couldn’t be more obvious.

The office door bursts open as I jump back and nearly scream, but it’s just Maggie. She’s flushed and clearly out of breath.

“M-Marcus is… he’s home… early.”

Gabe and I exchange a quick glance before we shove the contents back into the lock box and then throw them both back into the secret room. He pushes the bookshelf back into place before he grabs my hand and pulls me from the office. Maggie shuts the door behind us as we run to my bedroom. The sound of Marcus’s footsteps on the stairs makes me want to throw up. He shouldn’t be home right now. What the hell is he doing here?!

I shove Gabe into my closet. “Don’t come out until I come get you. Even if you hear something horrible.”

“I can’t promise anything if he puts his hands on you, Bentley,” he growls.

I gently place my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb along his bottom lip like he does to me.

“You’re no good to me in jail, Gabe. He’ll get his; just not like this.” I place a light kiss on his lips before I shut the closet door. My heart is nearly beating out of my chest as I wait for my husband to grace me with his presence.

Chapter thirty-three

Gabe

Knowing Bentley has to face this prick alone doesn't sit well with me, but she’s right: I’m no good to her in jail. But if he lays a hand on her in any way, sensual or not, I’ll burst from this closet and take my dad out. We’ve never been in a physical altercation before, but he better believe I will fucking destroy his old ass.

The sounds of Bentley shuffling something is the only thing I can hear besides my beating heart. Part of me wants Marcus to come in and then fuck off so I can take Bentley out of here, while the other part of me hopes he never shows his face. But I’m not so lucky.

Footsteps echo down the hallway as I press my ear to the closet door, eavesdropping the best I can. All I can think about isnot bursting from this closet and wrapping my hands around my father’s neck. After what we just found in his secret little room, it takes everything I have not to kill him right now. I spent the last seven years in prison because of this prick.

“Bentley, what are you doing?”

At the sound of my father’s voice, I stop thinking and just listen.

“I was just going through my drawers,” she replies.

His footsteps come into the room further, stopping a few feet from where I stand in the closet. A smirk lifts my lips thinking about how he has no idea I’m in here, and how he has no idea I just fucked his wife against his precious bookshelf.

“Why would you do that? We have hired staff for that, Bentley, but I can’t help but notice how it looks like you’re packing.”

She laughs. “Packing? Where would I go, Marcus? It’s not like I can go on vacation, or even go on a business trip with my own husband.”

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