“Go ahead. The girl I’m seeing already knows about the will. You’re not as smart as you think, Walter.”

It’s a bluff, but I’m hoping it’s enough, for now.

“You won’t win this, Marcus,” he splutters.

“But Walter—” I laugh, low, “—I already have.”

I hang up the phone, my heart pounding. It would be easy for me to call in a hit and get Walter killed. I have the contacts, but that’s too risky and too obvious. I have no choice; marrying Katia is the only way I can bring this forward professionally. I need to keep my business front, I need a woman on my arm, and I need to take this business as my own.

I step inside, locking the door. Then I crawl into the bed beside Katia.

Before I close my eyes, I wonder how easy this is going to be. Katia seems like the type I could win over fairly quickly. She’s not the fuck-and-leave kind of girl.

I’m wrong about that.

Because by morning, Katia is gone.

CHAPTER 7

NOW

Katia

“Two weeks,” I whine, swallowing another gulp of red wine.

“Stop complaining,” Dusty mutters. “You get us here the whole time.”

“It also means I don’t get my nightly fuck,” I point out.

Candy laughs, crossing her legs and leaning back into the couch. She’s wearing bright pink flannel pajamas. Classy.

“It’s not funny, Candy.”

“Dusty, there, could give it a whirl; you never know, you might convert him.”

Dusty snorts and I grin at him. “Aw come on, Dust. I have a great—”

“Do not say that word,” Dusty warns, curling his lips in disgust.

“Vagin—”

“Ew!” Dusty cries, covering his ears. “La, la, la, la.”

Candy laughs loudly and leans forward, grabbing a handful of cashews.

“For Dusty’s sake, tell us all about Man Candy Marcus.”

“What do you want to know?” I giggle, drinking more wine.

“Is he still as good in the sack, even after this long?”

I wink. “Ohh, yeah.”

“Every day, kind of thing?” Dusty asks, tapping his fingers together, with a big grin.

“Most days,” I begin. “He comes into my bed each night and—”

“What?” Dusty asks, losing his grin.

I blink.

“Honey,” Candy says.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“He comes into your bed?”

Oh, dear.

“It’s not what you think; Marcus is a restless sleeper. He moves a lot, dreams a lot . . .”

It’s only partly a lie. He told me he’s a restless sleeper when I asked why we don’t sleep together, but I’ve never seen it for myself. The dream thing is probably not true. I made it up because if I didn’t, it makes me question things, and I don’t want to question things.

“So you don’t sleep together?” Dusty mumbles, crossing his arms.

“Dusty, it isn’t like that . . .”

“You’re newlyweds.” Candy frowns. “It shouldn’t matter if he does star jumps in his sleep . . .”

I swallow.

“Trust me,” I protest. “It’s fine.”

They both look at me, skeptical, but they let it go.

“Tell me about the redhead that came into work the other day?” Candy asks, changing the subject, which I’m grateful for.

“I don’t know; he didn’t say anything.” I shrug.

“Ex? Stalker? Aunt?” Dusty laughs.

I grin at him. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy and here for two weeks.”

God help me. Marcus has gone away, and I get two weeks with Candy and Dusty staying in the house with me.

It could get interesting.

~*~*~*~

Katia – Three days without u is too long.

Marcus – You have a drawer full of sex toys.

I frown, shifting in my bed. I do have a drawer full of sex toys, they’re an essential in my life, but they’re no comparison to him.

Katia – They’re not as good as you.

Marcus – I don’t imagine they would be, but they’ll have to do.

Something twists in my chest, but I push it away. There’s been more than one occasion since I’ve been living with Marcus when I’ve doubted his feelings for me. I wonder why he’s here; I wonder if I’m crazy. It causes something to ache deep in my chest.

Katia – If I use one, do you want a picture?

Marcus – Yeah, precious.

And just like that, my doubts vanish. One word. It only takes one word and he reverses any confusion, any hesitation, and makes me realize just how much I want him.

Katia – I’ll get onto that.

Five minutes later, I’m coming softly, my mouth open, whimpers escaping my lips. Marcus has a picture, and he’s sent back proof of just how much he likes that picture. Then he rang me, and listened on the phone as I mewled his name.

“Fuck, stop that moaning’ or I’ll explode,” he murmurs down the phone.

“Marcus,” I whimper as my body jerks.

“Fuck.”

I love that fuck. I love his filthy mouth. Hell, I love him.

I slide the pink vibrating device from my body and turn it off. It’s silent on the other end of the phone, so I whisper, “Are you jerking off, Marcus Tandem?”

He snorts. “No.”