Page 86 of The Alpha’s Unclaimed Mate

“No.” His hand closes over mine. “That’s not what happened. I think I was drugged that night. When I had my suspicions about Mia, I called Voss, my old manager.” His jaw works. “He confirmed that you came looking for me.” He leans in. “Jessa, I wouldn’t have walked away from my own child. Nor will I do so now.”

My eyes burn. “So you want Mia.”

“No.” He looks straight at me. “I want both of you.”

My spine locks. “That’s not possible, Marcus. I can’t.”

“Give me a chance.” His thumb moves once across my knuckles. “Whoever I was ten years ago, he’s gone. And even that man wouldn’t have abandoned you or made you suffer this much.”

The tears come, and I can’t stop them. “You’re lying,” I whisper.

“I’m not.” He doesn’t blink. “Tell me what you need to believe me, and it’s yours. Take money, papers, a lawyer’s number, the house in your name. I want the two of you here.”

“And if I say no?” I lift my chin. “If I drive Mia to Brenton tomorrow?”

“Then Bella and I follow you to Brenton. I won’t take her from you.”

I suck in a breath. Does he really mean it?

“You own a school,” I remind him cautiously.

“I built it, so I can hand it to a board inside a month, and I’ll delegate whatever won’t fit in a suitcase.” He shrugs. “Wherever you go, Jessa, I’m going. I want to be near my daughter.”

Every argument I had lined up dies in my throat. I press the heels of my hands against my eyes until white spots swim behind them. “Marcus. What am I supposed to do with you?”

“I have a few suggestions.” He lowers my hands from my eyes.

“Don’t even think about saying we should get married.”

His lips twitch. “That wasn’t where I was going.”

Heat crawls up my neck. Of course it wasn’t. “Then where were you going?”

“That you and I should get to know each other again.” He settles back onto his heel. “There’s a hole in my memory of that night, and the people standing around me won’t fill it in. You’re the only one left who can.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Jessa, if you are offended over me not remembering you, imagine how fucked up it feels to me. Contrary to my reputation, I wasn’t exactly a playboy. I should have remembered you.”

I swallow. I can see the sincerity and confusion in his eyes. “What do you want to know?”

“Where did we meet? What happened?”

I look at the window rather than at him. “I saw you outside a bar in Ashford. That’s where I lived then. I was walking home after my restaurant’s shift, and there you were on the sidewalk with a woman holding you up.” My hands won’t stay still, so I knot them together in my lap. “I recognized you. Half the country would have. I watched you for a few minutes, but then I kept walking.”

“What happened then?” he prompts.

“You came after me. I was three blocks along, and you were suddenly there.”

His brows draw together. “I was drunk?”

“You weren’t drunk, or maybe not that much?” I try to recall. “Something was definitely wrong with you, though. You were off. Even if I didn’t know you, you felt off. You kept saying you needed to go somewhere to rest. I tried to walk you into a hotel two streets over, but you wouldn’t go in. I ended up taking you to my place.” A bitter laugh gets out of me. “You drank water for two hours, glass after glass, then straight from the faucet. The more you drank, the steadier you got.” My throat closes on the rest. “Then you talked me into bed.”

Marcus stares at me. “Hold on. You’re telling me I talked you into bed while I could barely stand up.”

“Wasn’t much of talking.” My face is on fire. “You just started kissing me, and I…I didn’t push you away.” There’s a chip in the tabletop, and I study it, knowing how red my face must be. “To be fair, I did tell you it was a bad idea. But you were very persuasive.”

That part of my memory is intact. For many nights after that, I could feel the phantom caress of his hands on the insides of my thighs, his mouth in places no one had touched before.