Page 44 of A Secret Escape

Marcus

I ’m scared too, but I can’t let it show. My job is to protect her. That’s the whole reason I brought us out here – somewhere no one would think to look. Somewhere safe. The alone time with her is an added bonus. But right now, every sound has me on edge.

I run through any possible ways we might have been followed.

“Have you told anyone where we are?” I ask.

“No. I told Angela we were going away, but I didn’t say where. I didn’t even know myself until we got here,” she says.

“What else does Angela know?”

Lila tilts her head, her brows pulled together. “What do you mean?”

I pause.

I want to make sure no one can track us, obviously – but part of me is also wondering whether she’s said anything about me. About us.

Damn it. Since when do I care about rumours?

“About us…” I clarify.

She shifts, her knee pressing into my leg. “Um… she knows we went out on Friday, and that we’ve gone away together.”

“That’s it? ”

“She knows about the flat. I called her Friday night after Chris left, completely freaked out. And yesterday I messaged her from the library, just told her about what was happening and that I wouldn’t be in for a few days.”

A pang hits me straight in the chest. Why didn’t she call me ?

I should have gone back. I wanted to go back.

But I’m glad she had someone.

“Why?” she asks, studying my face.

“Just wondering.”

We fall into silence. My thoughts spiral – how long can we keep this up? If he isn’t caught by the end of the week, what then? Do we just go back to work, pretend this never happened?

I wouldn’t let her go back to her flat in any case. Even if it means she has to stay with me. There’s no way I’m leaving her alone for any amount of time.

“Have you taken the whole week off?” she asks, breaking my thoughts.

Relieved for the change of topic, I exhale. “Yea, I’ve just used my annual leave. If anyone questions it, I’ll say it was mental health. No one argues with that these days. And Harrison can handle anything that comes up in my absence, so it doesn’t even matter that much.”

She gives me a faint smile, her tension easing a little. I see it in her eyes – a slight glimmer just starting to reappear.

It crosses my mind that Lila and Harrison must be a similar age, except Harrison is basically a child compared to Lila. She speaks and acts with a maturity beyond her years, and she never makes me feel like there’s any significant gap between us at all.

“What’s the next event you’re planning?” she asks.

The question throws me – in a good way .

It’s a normal question. A question between two work colleagues - not two people hiding out from a crime gang.

“We’ve got a small craft beer tasting next month, but aside from that, everyone’s focused on the gala.”

“Oh yea, I’ve seen a few e-mails about that,” she says. “Last year’s was amazing.”

“I remember,” I say, and I can’t help the smile that comes across my face as the image of her from that night fills my mind. She looked simply stunning in a shimmery, black gown that showed off every curve of her incredible figure and had a slit up one leg nearly to her hip.

“Yea?” she asks, her cheeks turning pink as a smile pushes up the corners of her eyes.

“Of course,” I say. “How could I not? You had half the room staring at you. I thought about you in that dress for several days after… and several nights,” I admit, smiling with satisfaction as a crimson blush deepens across her face and she shyly drops her head with a laugh. “You looked incredible.”

Her smile transforms her entire face, radiating a warmth that catches me off guard. My heart stutters in my chest, the rhythm faltering before racing ahead.

In that unguarded moment, something fundamental shifts within me – a quiet certainty taking root, and I know, with absolute clarity, that I would do anything just to witness that smile. To be the reason for that smile every damn day.

“You looked pretty great in your tux, too,” she says. “You seemed really busy.”

“The gala is always a crazy night for me. All my clients are there at once, and with the presentations and endless handshakes, I barely get a second to breathe. ”

She nods. “I wondered why they invited us. We did virtually no filming because they had the professional photographers and cameramen in. I guess it was just so that we could write the posts and answer questions about it more factually.” There’s a hint of something in her voice – not quite disappointment, but wistfulness.

“Absolutely,” I assure her. “The cameramen might capture the images, but it’s your work that keeps the brand alive weeks and months after the event ends. You are the ones who tell the story.”

She smiles again, this time with a quiet pride. “I do love it,” she says, her fingers absently tracing circles in my palm.

“You’ve got a great eye for it.”

“Thanks,” she says, smiling sweetly.

“Those drink shots posted on Catalyst’s Instagram last Saturday – that was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yea. Why?” She eyes me with suspicion.

“I thought as much. They were brilliant. Clean framing, unique angles. I thought those had been professionally filmed.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Did you film them all yourself?”

“I did all the bar shots. Angela did the crowd shots and Carter was on interviews.”

“Lila, I’m serious. You’ve got a natural talent for seeing things differently. That’s not something you can teach – it’s why you’re so good at your job.”

She drops her head again, trying to hide the redness spreading across her cheeks as a smile takes over her face. She looks younger suddenly, a sweet innocence revealing itself on her features.

“I’ve never told anyone this…” she says, her voice dropping low. “But my dream is to go to film school, to study cinematography. ”

“That’s amazing,” I say. “You absolutely should. Manchester has lots of great film schools. You’d make a brilliant cinematographer.”

“Thank you,” she says, her eyes meeting mine with a sweet longing that tugs at my chest. “That’s really nice to hear.”

“I mean it. I’m not just saying it.”

She leans in and kisses me, her lips lingering on mine.

I pull her closer, and she swings a leg over so that she’s straddling me.

The world around us melts away, much as it had that night on the dance floor.

The kiss is soft and slow, but it nevertheless sends the blood rushing straight down as I feel a twitch below my waistband.

When we finally part, her eyes mirror my desire just as deeply.

“I still can’t believe you kissed me that night,” I say, grazing my fingers down her cheek.

She laughs. “I blame the whiskey.”

Her laugh is light and musical. It wraps around me, filling my soul with a warmth I’m not used to.

“Whiskey or not, we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t,” I say.

Her smile instantly drops as I realise the double meaning in my words. Shit.

She climbs off me, sitting back down on the cushion beside me.

“Sorry,” I say, wishing I could rewind the last ten seconds.

“You mean we wouldn’t be here, on the run from a murderous drug-dealing ex,” she says, her voice flat.

I reach for her leg, pulling her back to me. “Hey.”

She looks up, her expression full of sadness.

“I meant we wouldn’t be together . And you know that.”

Together. As I say the word, it solidifies in my mind. That is what I want .

She nods, a small smile pushing one side of her mouth up ever so slightly.

“Look, I know the situation is shit, but being here, with you, I wouldn’t change it for the world, alright?”

“Really?”

“Really,” I say and squeeze her leg.

We sit like that for a moment, sharing the space, breathing in the gravity of everything around us.

“What do you say we go check out that tub?” I offer.

She blinks and her mouth parts as though with a silent gasp, staring at me in shock.

She nods excitedly, her face lighting up with a sweet, girlish giggle as I stand and pull her up, claiming her mouth with mine as my hands run down her back until they’re cupped tightly around her arse.

She giggles, breaking the kiss, and I bend down to wrap my arms around her, easily lifting her up over my shoulder, relishing in the sound of her squeals and giggles as I carry her up the stairs.

I throw her down on the bed, climbing on top of her, and my tongue is in her mouth, a fire burning through my veins as her nails claw at my arms, her body tensing underneath me all over again.

Pulling myself off her with a low growl, my breath catches as I stand at the edge of the bed. She props herself up on her elbows, watching me.

I peel off my shirt, letting it drop to the floor, savouring the glow in her eyes as they trace every inch of skin from my face to my chest, down my arms, across my abs and finally to my waist.

The hunger in her gaze sends a bolt of heat through me, but it isn’t only lust. There’s something deeper. More powerful. A need to make her feel safe. To protect her. To show her that I’m going to be here for her.

I climb back on the bed, pressing her back down into the mattress with another kiss. I trail my mouth along her neck, grazing her skin with my teeth before gently nipping her ear.

“I’m all yours,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out over the thudding in my chest.

I’d never said that to anyone before. Never even come close. But the truth of it settles deep inside me. I mean it. I want to be hers – completely.

And I want to know, without question, that she’s mine.

Mine.

God, just the thought of it pushes me to the fucking edge.

For the first time in a long time, I feel certain about something. About her. About us.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me close as she kisses me with a fire that makes my whole body tense. I can feel my cock pulsating against the fabric of my briefs, every nerve in my body on edge.