Page 18 of A Secret Escape

Lila

“ A re you going out for lunch today?” I ask.

“Nope, sorry,” Angela says. “I’ve been sent in with Sunday dinner leftovers as usual.”

I sigh, glancing across at Carter, who is mid-video call with Harrison, all charming grin and flirty eye contact like he’s auditioning for Love Island: Office Edition. I roll my eyes.

Outside, the sky is grey and cloudy, and the bare tree branches sway ever so slightly, like even the wind can’t be bothered today.

“Fine,” I mutter, pushing back from my desk. “I’ll go grab a salad. You want anything?”

“I’m good, thanks. See you in a bit.” Angela gives me a quick wave as she focuses on her screen.

Walking to the stairs, the memory of my first day at Catalyst pops into my head. Out of almost a hundred people in the company, Marcus’s name was the only one I had remembered.

He’d stood up from his desk, those blue-grey eyes meeting mine with a polite but curious intensity as he shook my hand. Even now, I can still picture the way his presence had filled my mind – confident, composed, magnetic.

And when he smiled, God, the thrill it sent through my body, like a fire that burned my veins.

For two years, I’ve been dreaming about him, savouring every casual encounter, every small smile in the lift, every morning in the coffee shop.

And now I may have ruined it all. Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I take a deep breath, stepping out into the cold.

My eyes are glued to my phone as I scroll through TikTok, deliberately tuning out the world around me.

I push through the door of my favourite deli, the delicious scent of freshly baked bread and the tangy aroma of crisp vegetables from the salad bar making my stomach growl.

The sound of a blender whirs to life as though it’s calling my name.

Still laughing at a video of cats dramatically falling off kitchen counters, I walk straight into someone, not noticing them just closing the fridge door.

“I’m so sorry,” I start - when the person turns around and my heart stops.

“Lila, hey.”

Marcus is standing in front of me, every part of him glowing with flawless perfection. He flashes that familiar smile, his hand gently on my arm as he steadies me, and my knees wobble like they’ve never supported me a day in their life.

“H – hi…” I manage to force out, but my mind has gone completely blank and I can’t think of another word to say.

“Are you alright?” he asks, looking at me with a warmth that makes my breath catch, as if I hadn’t just made things horribly awkward between us for the rest of forever when I kissed him the other night .

“I… yea, I’m okay, thanks.”

Breathe, I remind myself. “You?”

“Yea. Just grabbing some lunch.”

I nod. “Same.”

He surveys the café for a moment, like he’s trying to decide something, then looks back at me, that smile completely short-circuiting my brain.

“I was going to take mine back to the office, but… would you like to stay and eat here? If you have time, that is,” he asks.

My pulse takes off like a runaway train. This can’t be real.

“I… yea…okay.”

“Great.” His smile grows wider and God, I swear his eyes have a literal sparkle in them.

Not fair. Completely, criminally not fair. How can one person be so fucking beautiful?

“What are you having?” he asks, stepping up to the counter.

Get it together, Lila , a scolding voice sounds in my head. Stop making an arse of yourself. He’s still talking to you. This is not that hard. Just. Speak.

I draw in a breath and smile, steadying myself. “Can I have the grilled chicken salad please, with honey mustard? And a strawberry banana smoothie, please.”

Phew. Ok. Managed to order your lunch in one clear sentence. Good job. See, you can do it.

I hold my phone out to tap the card reader, but Marcus lifts his hand slightly, stopping me.

“And I’ll have the chicken teriyaki bowl,” he says to the cashier, setting a bottle of water on the counter – the one he nearly dropped when I crashed into him. “And a black coffee. ”

“I can pay for mine,” I say quickly, a flush rising across my cheeks, but he shakes his head, calm and easy.

“It’s on me.”

I swallow a lump in my throat. He’s standing so close to me that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. My lips tingle with the memory of the kiss.

“Thank you,” I say as we step to the side. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“My pleasure,” he says. “How have you been?”

“Okay, I guess. Had a bangin’ headache on Saturday, but you know, I’m fine,” I laugh lightly, trying to sound casual.

“Yea, I bet,” he grins. “You were pretty gone by the end of the night.”

Heat sweeps across my face as I draw my arms around my waist, wishing I could disappear. I feel my shoulders tense up and my chest tighten with embarrassment. What did I do? What did I say? And why can’t I remember any of it?

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t normally drink that much.”

“I know,” he says with a smile.

Meeting his eyes, a surge of confidence rises from deep within me. His mood is clearly light-hearted, and his smile is warm and comforting.

“It was your fault, you know? It was the whiskey that did me in!” A smile starts creeping back onto my face and I deliberately decide not to tell him about skipping dinner that night.

He laughs. “Oh, is that right? Well, if I remember correctly, you said it was my choice!”

My cheeks warm again as I search for the right words.

“It was a good choice,” I decide, remembering the courage I felt the moment I kissed him .

A moment’s silence falls between us before our food is thankfully called. Marcus picks up the tray, carrying it over to a small table.

“Thank you again,” I say, taking my coat off as I sit down.

“Seriously, don’t mention it.” He unbuttons his coat but leaves it on, sitting upright in his chair as he takes the lid off his bowl.

I look across the table at him, fully taking him in.

He’s wearing a black wool coat that goes almost to his knees, and underneath it I can see a white, collared shirt under a black suit jacket.

He’s not wearing a tie and the top button at the neck is undone just enough to give a glimpse of golden skin underneath.

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he says.

“I am, thank you.”

He leans forward just slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging into that dangerously disarming smile. “I also wanted to say… I had fun the other night.”

He smiles, his eyes holding my gaze in a way that makes it impossible to look anywhere else.

My heart trips over itself and my stomach flips as an enormous smile takes over my face.

“Me too.”

He picks up his fork. “And…I wondered if I could take you out sometime? Perhaps Friday, if you’re free?” He stabs a piece of chicken and bites it so casually, like he hasn’t just set my entire world on fire.

Am I hallucinating? Did Marcus Andersson just ask me out?

I blink, completely frozen.

And to my surprise – he shifts slightly in his seat and clears his throat. Like he’s waiting.

He raises a brow, a slightly amused expression on his face.

“Don’t tell me I’ve misread this and you’re about to tell me you have a boyfriend or something.

” His tone is teasing, but there’s the faintest glimmer of tension behind it.

Like he’s so used to always hearing yes, that my inability to answer instantly has actually thrown him.

I laugh, a jolt of electricity surging through me. I can’t remember ever feeling such a strong rush of excitement and energy within the space of a few short minutes. At least not when I’ve been sober.

“God, no, nothing like that,” I reassure him. “Sorry. I think I was just… in shock.”

“Oh, so you tried to give me a heart attack in return?” he accuses playfully. “Bold strategy,” he says with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

“No! I just - ” I cover my face briefly with my hands, laughing. “I was genuinely stunned. I didn’t think you –“

He tilts his head. “Didn’t think I what?”

“That you’d…ask me out,” I say, my cheeks burning. “I mean, not because I wouldn’t want you to, obviously – I just didn’t think…”

He watches me flail with far too much enjoyment. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

My eyes go wide and I pray that the cold outside is a good enough reason for my face to be burning the bright shade of red I’m sure it must be at this point.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not. I like it.” He picks up his coffee, looking far too pleased with himself. “But I’ve got to say, I don’t believe for a second that you don’t get asked out all the time.”

“I don’t,” I say. “Not seriously, anyway.”

He studies me for a second, his eyes sharp and unreadable. “Well, that’s ridiculous. ”

I try to focus on my salad, but it’s damn near impossible when he’s sitting there like an actual fantasy come to life, all confidence and charisma with that smile that completely short-circuits my brain.

“Do you have something in mind?” I ask, trying to steady my voice.

“I thought we could go for dinner, a few drinks, somewhere relaxed. Just… get to know each other better.”

I nod, and then grin. “As long as it doesn’t involve any more whiskey!”

He laughs. “Deal. No whiskey. Just us.” His eyes soften on those last two words, my insides tightening into an unrecognisable knot.

I look at him – and the sheer excitement of seeing him again starts to mix with a frustrating need to remember more of what happened the other night.

I don’t want to admit I can’t remember, but I also suddenly realise that he might be able to fill in some of the gaps.

“Well,” I start, my gaze fixed on my salad as I stab a piece of cucumber with my wooden fork. “At least this time I’ll make sure to remember how I get home.”

His brow lifts just slightly. “You don’t remember?”

I shake my head, my cheeks warming with embarrassment.

“I knew you were wasted, but you didn’t seem out of it or anything.” His voice shifts, a note of concern threading through.

“I’ve been told I hold my own fairly well,” I admit, unsure if he might see that as a good or bad thing.

“Yea, absolutely.” He sounds amused, almost impressed.

“Well, let me see if I can… jog your memory?” he says, his tone smooth, low, hypnotic.

He leans in toward me, and without even thinking, I mirror his movement, as though drawn forward by a magnetic pull.

Our faces hover mere inches apart. The warming scent of sandalwood wraps around me – comforting and addictive all at once, the kind of scent that makes me want to get closer and never let go.

“We were at the bar,” he says, his voice deep and sultry, barely more than a seductive whisper. “And you were holding my hand.”

He turns his palm up on the table between us.

I place my hand in his, a jolt of energy coursing through me as his fingers wrap around mine, as though they belong together.

“Sort of like that,” he murmurs, his lips curving into the most devastating smile.

I bite my lip to stop myself from doing something ridiculous, like climbing across this fucking table in the middle of a Monday afternoon.

“It was getting late. You said you needed some air, so we stepped outside for a bit. After a while, you said you wanted to go home. So we got in a taxi, and I hoped you were sober enough to tell the driver your address.”

I let out a soft laugh, dropping my head with a groan. I cannot believe how drunk I must have been to have no recollection of anything he’s saying, but on the plus side, if I had done something embarrassing, he certainly isn’t letting it show.

My heart hammers against my ribs. His hand is still wrapped around mine, his lips so near that I can count the tiny creases on them.

“The car pulled up outside your place…” He trails off and suddenly, the not-knowing is infuriating.

I’m almost certain nothing happened, but I can’t be absolutely sure.

I would have remembered that, wouldn’t I? Or at least, my body would have?

“Then what?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper .

He watches me, searching my eyes as though trying to decide if I actually can’t remember or if I’m just playing along.

A slow smirk comes across his face. “Then…” he continues slowly, gently rubbing my hand in his, every motion sending goosebumps across my skin. “I walked you to your door…”

He pauses for a moment.

“You got your keys out of your bag…” he says. “And then you dropped them.”

I burst out laughing, yanking my hand away to hide my face. “Oh my God, seriously?”

He smiles, but takes my hand again, this time holding it with both of his. His touch is steady and deliberate, and my heart might actually leap out of my chest if he keeps looking at me like that.

“And as you picked them up…” he continues. “I leaned in… and did something… kind of like this,” he says, and closes the tiny space between us, his lips pressing ever so softly against mine.

My body feels as though a firework has just gone off inside me, and a coherent thought seems impossible to grasp. All I’m aware of is his lips, his scent, the heat of his hands on mine.

When he finally pulls back, my head is spinning.

What the fuck is happening?

Just a few hours ago, I was convinced I had made a fool of myself and had come up with a set of elaborate plans to avoid him. Now, I’m somehow kissing the man of my dreams on my lunch break?

“Wow,” I breathe.

He leans back, releasing my hand with a final, lingering touch. His tongue grazes his bottom lip in a way that should be illegal, and he gives me a smile that is so sexy and confident, I forget how to form thoughts.

“Did we…” I start to ask, but he quickly in terrupts me.

“No. I said goodnight, made sure you got inside safe, and went back to the cab.”

I can feel his gaze on me for a moment, and I don’t know what to say. I glance at him and find his brow furrowed, his eyes filled with something that almost looks like hurt.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be there in the morning if we had?” he asks quietly.

I feel my cheeks flush a deep crimson as shame flushes through me. “I don’t know.”

“I’m not that kind of man, Lila.”

The way he says my name sends another thrill down my spine, stealing my breath with it.

And somehow, deep down, I know he’s telling the truth.

But now he’s said it – the thought of waking up beside him is all I can think about.