Page 8 of A Secret Escape

Footsteps echo behind me, slow and measured. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Marcus – there’s something distinct about his gait. Not to mention the air seems to shift when he enters a room.

“Morning,” he says, his voice neutral as he reaches past me to grab his mug from the overhead cabinet.

“Hi,” I manage, far too aware of the space he occupies next to me – closer than he needs to be, considering we’re the only ones in here.

He offers me a smile, but it’s not his usual bright, warming grin that makes my heart malfunction. It’s quieter, held back, as though there’s something weighing him down.

“Did you get home alright the other night?” he asks.

“Yea. Thanks again. For… you know.”

God, Lila. Learn how to string more than two fucking words together around him.

“Don’t mention it.”

The silence stretches between us as the coffee machine gurgles its final few drops and I pick up my mug, stepping aside so he can put his down in its place.

“How’s Carter?” he asks, his tone sounding as though he’s forcing it to be casual.

I can’t help the groan that escapes me. “I’m still furious with him. He owes me big time for that.”

Something flickers across Marcus’s face – confusion, maybe – but it’s gone before I can pin it down.

“I thought -” he starts, then stops himself. “Never mind.”

“What?” I ask, my curiosity flaring.

Before he can answer, Angela bounces in.

“Morning, you two!” she chirps, then pauses, her eyes narrowing as we both stare at her.

“Did I just interrupt something?”

“No. I should get back to work,” Marcus says, picking up his cup. He nods at Angela, barely acknowledging me as he moves past.

I stare after him, clutching my coffee mug too tightly.

“What was that about?” Angela whispers, nudging me once Marcus is out of earshot.

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “Nothing.”

“Right. So you weren’t just having a moment with the most beautiful man in the building?”

“He just asked how Carter was, and he seemed surprised when I said I was furious with him.”

“Why would he be surprised about that? I feel like being furious with Carter is just a daily occurrence.”

“I don’t know. I mean you saw how fucking trashed Carter was the other night. Marcus practically carried him outside for me.”

Angela’s eyes widen with realisation. “Oh my God, and now he thinks you and Carter are together !” she exclaims.

“What? No! That’s - ”

I stop as the realisation hits me.

Carter’s drunken ‘ You’re so pretty .’ His head resting against me. Me saying I needed to get him home.

“Fuck.”

“Exactly,” Angela says, putting her own mug under the coffee machine. “He looked at you just now like a man trying very hard not to want something that isn’t his to want.”

My stomach does a little flip. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” she challenges.

“I don’t -” My voice trails off as heat spreads across my cheeks.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Before I can respond, Marcus reappears in the doorway, his eyes scanning the counter.

“Sorry,” he says. “Forgot my -”

“Marcus! Just the man I need!” Carter’s voice interrupts as he strides in behind him, iPad tucked under his arm.

Either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the tension in the room, he claps Marcus on the shoulder.

My entire body tenses. Carter looks perfectly put-together today – crisp shirt, neatly styled hair, not a hint of his Friday night disaster. The fucking audacity .

Marcus stiffens slightly at Carter’s hand, his eyes meeting mine briefly before shifting away.

“I need your input on these mock-ups before the call,” Carter says. His smile is easy, casual, like he didn’t completely humiliate himself – and me – two nights ago.

I glance at Angela who’s hiding a smirk behind her coffee mug.

Marcus retrieves his phone from the counter, his movements precise as he glances at his watch. “I’ve got five minutes before my next meeting,” he says, professional as ever.

“Perfect. That’s all I need. Hey, thanks again by the way, for helping us out on Friday. I still feel like death warmed over. Thank God for coffee, right?”

I glare at him, my eyes burning laser holes through his very soul.

Marcus watches this exchange, something unreadable flickering across his face. For a moment, it looks like he might say something – his lips part slightly, his brow furrows – but then he looks at his watch instead.

“Four minutes,” he says to Carter, his voice neutral.

“Right, come on, I’ll walk with you.” Carter holds up his iPad and leads the way out of the kitchen.

Just before they disappear from view, Marcus glances back. Our eyes lock for a fraction of a second – long enough for a flicker of something raw to pass between us – and then he’s gone.

Angela sips her coffee. “Well that was fucking awkward.”

I slump against the counter. “I’m going to kill Carter.”

“Or,” she says, stirring her drink, “you could just tell Marcus the truth.”