Page 4

The ‘love them and leave them type?’I’m not surprised, seeing how goddamn confident, handsome, and clearly successful Mark is. I have no doubt he’s had a colorful past.
Not that it’s any of my business.
“The wedding is going to beintimate,” Mark lies smoothly, his fingers digging into my hip. “Family and close friends only.”
“Close friends. Intimate wedding,” Charlie repeats, the word dripping with doubt. “Right. Whatever you say.”
“Whatever I say?Unlike you, Charlie, I don’t have to lie about a thing,” Mark laughs in his face.
“Now what the hell do you mean by that?” Charlie bellows, his voice rising so high that a couple of patrons look in our direction.
Okay. Clearly, there’s a history of rivalry here that runs deep, and somehow, I’m caught in the crossfire.
“What I’m saying is, I choose to live my life with dignity. Unlike you, who needs to hire people like my fiancée to help you improve and learn to be the kind of man a woman might be slightly interested in. Knowing you, you’re going to have to weasel your way into a relationship, aren’t you?”
“Fuck you, Mark,” Charlie says, his face turning red with anger. “I doubt a marriage with an asshole like you is ever going to last.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about my future,” Mark laughs. “I could always hire a little matchmaking service like you did.”
The jab hits its mark. Charlie bristles, the vein in his neck throbbing with indignation. “Careful, Mark. Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.”
“Glass houses?” Mark chuckles, the sound dark and menacing. “My dear Charlie, I prefer fortresses. Keeps out the riffraff.”
Their words are sharp, each sentence delivered to cause a hit to the other’s pride. I stand there mute, too afraid to help calm this situation down, and mildly curious about how all this will play out.
Charlie scoffs, shaking his head. “We'll see about that. Fortresses aren’t all that strong.” He turns to me, his gaze raking over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. “I'm afraid I'll have to cancel our meeting, Quinn. It seems you have your hands full at the moment.”
I feel a rush of relief, followed by a twinge of indignation at how creepily he’s staring at me, as if I'm some object he wants to pick up. But I force a professional smile, nodding curtly.
“I understand, Charlie. Maybe another time.”
Just then, Mark intervenes. “Now, if you'll excuse us, my fiancée and I must get going.”
Mark turns around, pulling me with him. I stumble slightly, caught off guard by the sudden movement, but his arm around my waist keeps me steady. I glance up at him, taking in the hard set of his jaw and the anger in his eyes. In this moment, he looks like a very dangerous man indeed. One whom I wouldn’t wish to cross under any circumstances.
As Mark leads me away, I can feel Charlie's gaze boring into my back. My hands feel clammy and my breaths come out rapid. I may have lost a client. But I avoided an uncomfortable situation and can only bring myself to feel relief.
Once a little away, I pull away from Mark’s gentle hold on me. He looks down at me, his expression unreadable.
“Are you alright?” he asks in a gruff voice.
I nod and crane my neck to look him in the eye. “I'm fine. Thank you, for...” I gesture vaguely, unsure how to put my gratitude into words.
He shrugs, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don't mention it. I couldn't let that slimeball put his hands on you.”
I arch an eyebrow, a smirk playing on my lips. “Oh, so you were looking out for me, were you?”
Mark's eyes hold a glint of amusement as he looks down at me. “You think I'd let someone like him ruin my chance of having a stunning fiancée by my side?” His tone is teasing, but still, my heart races at the strange thought that he might be flirting with me.
I’m just imagining things,I tell myself. There’s no chance he means it.
“Well, lucky for you, I can play the part of a devoted fake fiancée,” I retort, smirking at him. The banter feels oddly comfortable, given the circumstances. ”But the show is over, and I’ve already taken up too much of your time.”
I start to leave, but his strong hand grips my wrist and pulls me back. I turn, my breath catching at the touch.
Mark leans in, his breath warm and heavy against my ear. “We should move to another table and pretend we’re on a real date. Charlie might try to follow you home.”
I stiffen, my heart skipping a beat at the thought. “You really think he'd do that?”