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“I don’t know but something is.” She frowned at him. ““You’re being foolish.”
“I am not the one being foolish, cara.”
The train was jammed. They hung onto straps side by side. The woman to his left stood on his foot the entire trip; the guy behind him breathed garlic over his shoulder.
When they reached Emily’s stop, Marco checked his watch. He had not expected Emily to go to her place. Not enough time had gone by for Charles to complete his errand.
“I am hungry,” he said.
“I can make you something,” she said. “Or we can send out—”
He took her hand.
“I am hungry now,” he growled.
She raised her eyebrows. “Fine.”
He marched her into a Thai restaurant. They’d made the mistake of eating there before. The food was either spicy enough to cause cardiac arrest or so bland it tasted like porridge. The wait staff should have been called the wait-forever staff; they were pleasant but that was how long it seemed to take for them bring menus, take orders and deliver food.
Emily thought of reminding him of those problems at but one glance at his face and she changed her mind.
He seemed nervous.
Marco Santini, nervous?
Now she was nervous, too.
After they were finally served, they picked at their pad Thai and red curry. An hour dragged by. Marco looked at his watch. He turned in his seat, caught their waiter’s eye.
“The bill,” he barked.
“Whatever’s wrong with you,” Emily hissed, “don’t let it out on him!”
He glared at her but he took a fifty from his wallet and added it to the money he’d already left. Then he marched her outside.
Charles and the Mercedes were waiting at the curb.
“What’s Charles doing here?”
“He is here to take us home.”
“I told you, I have to go to my place first.”
Marco grabbed her hand and started walking her toward the limo.
“No, you do not.”
“Yes, I do. I need—”
“You need nothing,” he said, as Charles opened the rear door. “Is it done?”
“It is, sir.”
“Is what done?” Emily said as she got into the car. “Really, Marco—”
“You are all moved in.”
She blinked. “What is all moved in?”
