Page 55 of Craving

Marlon had to physically bite his tongue to stop words from coming out. Had this woman just blatantly insulted Camilla’s body? As if that was a normal occurrence?

“I’m looking out for my daughter’s health,” Georgina answered primly, lifting her chin. “Follow me, please.”

In the living room, a young woman handed a fussy child over to a waiting nanny. Camilla’s father watched the crying child with a scowl on his brow, then turned to pick up his glass of liquor.

Instead of greeting any of the adults, Camilla turned to the child. “Hi there, Cole. Look at you!” The boy reached for her, and Camilla picked him up with a bright smile stretching over her lips. She bounced him on her hip and cooed at him, then turned to Marlon. “This is my nephew, Cole. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

“Hello, Cole,” Marlon said, solemn as he reached for a tiny hand with teeny tiny fingers. Cole wrapped his fingers around Marlon’s index finger, and they shook. Camilla laughed, and Marlon felt something unfurl in the pit of his stomach. Something deep and hidden that he’d never, ever, ever acknowledged.

The baby scrunched his fingers into her top, then made a mad grab for her earrings. Swooping in to save her, the nanny scooped the child up and the two women laughed and smothered him with attention and affection.

For the first time in his life, Marlon admitted to himself that he wanted that—exactly that. He wanted a child of his own. He wanted Camilla’s face to light up when she cooed at it, and he wanted to be the one to wrap them in his arms and keep them safe. The desire swept through him so fast he staggered, catching himself on the edge of the wall as the nanny stepped out of the room.

This was all too much. She’d moved in mere weeks ago and now he was imagining her as the mother of his children. But…was that so bad? He hadn’t allowed himself to be himself in so long. Wouldn’t he make a good father?

No. No, Marlon wouldn’t. He was too closed off. His protective instincts were too strong. He couldn’t handle them when they caused him to burn out. Plus, he shouldn’t think about these things—especially not when he was here to support Camilla.

Camilla glanced after the nanny, then met Marlon’s gaze, then turned to the room. “So,” she said, all trace of her earlier worry erased from her features. “What’s the special occasion? Our usual dinner wasn’t supposed to be for another two weeks.”

“Camilla,” Dean said, waving a hand to the man in the armchair next to him. “This is Henry Blackstone’s son. The man I told you about last time. He was passing through town, so we decided to have a meal to introduce the two of you.”

“Nice to meet you, Henry Blackstone’s son,” Camilla said, a slight edge to her words. But her smile was firmly planted in place, and Marlon couldn’t help but admire her. Her spine was straight, her expression was smooth, and she wasn’t bowing to anyone.

“I’m Henry as well,” the man replied, getting up to shake her hand. He wore a crisp button-down and well-tailored pants. “Your father’s told me a lot about you. You enjoy baking, is it?”

Marlon could have been a floor lamp, for all the attention anyone was paying him. But that didn’t stop him from stiffening at the way this guy was looking at Camilla, like she was a prize sow at a pig auction. He stepped forward. “Camilla owns and operates the most popular bakery in Stirling,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it. The Sweetest Thing.”

Henry blinked, then glanced at Dean. “You never told me you’d gone into the restaurant business,” he said, laughing. “Any other investments you’ve got hidden up your sleeve?”

Camilla went stone-still beside Marlon, and he tamped down the need to rage. Did this guy not listen? Did he not hear Marlon say Camilla owned the damn business? Was it so impossible to believe that she would have done it herself?

“Unfortunately, Camilla’s family didn’t see the value of the investment,” Marlon said. “Camilla built the business on her own.”

“Well, don’t be ridiculous,” Georgina twittered, coming closer with a fresh drink for Henry and nothing for Marlon. “Of course we know our daughter is talented, and we’re very proud she’s kept herself busy all these years. Henry is going to take over from his father in the next couple of years, aren’t you, Henry?”

“How wonderful for him,” Marlon deadpanned, inserting himself once more where it was obvious he wasn’t wanted—but this time, he saw Camilla’s lips twitch. She shot him a glance that was half-reproach, half-gratitude.

“Who are you?” Henry finally said, a bit petulantly.

“Marlon St. James.” He put his arm around Camilla’s shoulders as she slung an arm around his waist. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Confusion flitted over Henry’s face as they stood there with their arms around each other, and Marlon almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But then he turned to Dean and said, “You told me she was single.”

Marlon tightened his hold on Camilla and almost couldn’t believe this guy’s gall. Camilla was standing in front of him, whole and intelligent, and instead of treating her like a person, he turned to her father and acted like she was chattel they’d already agreed to trade.

“I was single,” Camilla answered, drawing Henry’s gaze. Then she glanced at Marlon and smiled. “Now I’m not.”

Fire burned in Marlon’s gut. He stood in this horrible house, with these horrible people, and watched Camilla shine so bright it looked like she had sunlight woven into her skin. She was too good to spend another minute here. Too kind and pure and hard-working.

He needed to get her out of here, away from these people, away from the rot that had crept into the ties that bound this family together. The need grew and grew and grew until he couldn’t resist anymore. He bent at the knee, put his shoulder to Camilla’s stomach, and picked her up.

She let out a cute little yelp of outrage.

“We’re going,” Marlon announced.

Then Camilla laughed, bright and loud, and waved at her family as they stared. “Goodnight,” she called out as he walked out of the room and down the hall to the front door.

He didn’t put her down as he grabbed their jackets from the hooks on the wall, just bundled all their things under one arm and kept her steady with the other. Didn’t put her down as he wrestled with the front door, or when he made his way down the steps.

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