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Now’s not the time to indulge the greedy bastard, though, as my kitten looks more than a little upset. Carefully, I extend a hand toward her. “Emma…”
“Don’t talk,” she hisses, backing away. “Don’t even make a sound. We just… where anyone could hear… Oh God, I can’t even—”
“Shh, it’s okay.” Catching her arms, I pull her against my chest for a soothing hug. “We were only here for a few minutes, and we were pretty quiet.” Or at least I think we were; from what I recall, our mouths were mostly occupied with kissing. Either way, I tell her reassuringly, “You won’t get into any kind of trouble, I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.” Her words are muffled against my chest.
I stroke her back. “Yes, I can. From what I’ve seen of him, this Ian asshole will likely be too embarrassed by his gaffe to complain to his uncle, and if any of the customers say something about the backroom goings-on… Well, I’ll deal with the fallout if it happens. An in-person apology from me, accompanied by a check for a hundred grand or so, should go a long way toward smoothing your boss’s feathers—should any of them get ruffled in the first place.”
Instead of calming her, my explanation brings back her anger. Pulling back, she nails me with a narrow-eyed look. “You think money is a fix for everything?”
“Not everything.” There’s no amount in the world that can transport me back in time so I can remember to use a condom. But what’s done is done, so I take a breath and say bluntly, “I didn’t wear protection again.”
“I know, I saw!” Then she catches herself and adds in a calmer tone, “I think we’re safe. I’m supposed to get my period this weekend.”
“Ah, good.” I’m glad she won’t have to take another morning-after pill, even as a part of me feels irrationally disappointed. Shoving that part deep down, I say, “I looked into some more foolproof methods of birth control for us. IUDs seem particularly promising, and there are also—”
“Later, okay?” She casts a worried look at the door. Pushing me away, she tries to tame her hair—a futile effort, given what my fingers have done to her curls—then smooths her palms over her clothes.
“You look fine, my sweet,” I assure her, and clasping her hand in a firm grip, I lead her to the door.
42
Emma
I’m still fuming as we eat dinner at home an hour and a half later. Though none of the customers said anything or even smirked much when we emerged from the back room, for the remaining fifteen minutes of my shift, I felt like I had a scarlet A branded on my forehead—or maybe a tattoo that says “Property of Marcus.”
It would certainly be in line with his behavior toward Ian. Marcus all but pissed in a circle around me—then literally marked me with his cum.
Shoving a bite of chicken into my mouth, I picture the bug-eyed panic on Ian’s face as Marcus came toward us, then the obvious sex noises that must’ve been coming out of the back room despite what Marcus said about us being quiet, and though I still want to die from embarrassment, a snort of laughter escapes my throat, causing me to choke on the food.
“You okay, kitten?” Marcus asks, immediately concerned, and for some reason, that sends me over the edge. Whooping hysterically between bouts of coughing, I shove my plate away and jump to my feet.
“You—he…” I’m laughing so hard tears are running down my face. “Oh God, we had sex in the freaking back room.”
Queen Elizabeth, who had been calmly napping on one of the free dining chairs, raises her head and gives me a look suggesting I’m mental—and I can’t blame her. Marcus’s behavior was atrocious, not funny in the least. And mine wasn’t any better. What was I thinking, dragging my insatiable pirate to the back room when the air between us all but crackled with a sexual charge?
If I get fired on Monday for inappropriate behavior at work, it’ll be no more than I deserve.
The thought sobers me up, and I return to my seat, wiping away the tears as Marcus stares at me in bemusement. I can’t blame him either. I’ve barely spoken two words to him since we came out of the back room, even though he waited for me to finish my shift and we went home together. He even attempted to apologize for acting like an ass at my place of work, but I could tell he didn’t mean it.
He thinks he’s somehow in the right on this—as if I would’ve ever gone for poor Ian.
“You know I’d never cheat on you, right?” I say, figuring I might as well state the obvious. “Not with Ian, not with anyone else.”
