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That wasn’t Grit’s fate.
He had lived a life that had caught up with him, and I was just going to have to live with it.
I was as much to blame for Grit’s death as Marco was. Things happened and decisions were made that in the end, didn’t end well.
“I need to hate you because I don’t know what else to do with you,” I blurted.
He tipped his head to the side. “I can list at least three other things you could do with me right now instead of hating me.”
A knock sounded on the door. He pointed at me to stay and moved to the door.
He grabbed a tray without a word and shut the door in Bristol’s face.
“You could have at least said thank you,” I scolded.
Marco set the tray on the dresser next to his plate. “I’ll tell her tomorrow.”
“I don’t know what the heck we are doing here, Marco.”
“You’ve already said that.” He lifted the lid on the domed plate and smiled. “She added some cherry almond bread, too.”
“You better save me some,” I called. I had intended to grab some dessert on the way to my room, but I had made so swift of an exit that I had forgotten.
“Half is yours, mio amore.” He grabbed another mushroom and popped it into his mouth.
“Stop calling me that.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because it means ‘my love.’”
He smirked. “I don’t need a language lesson, Royal. I know what it means.”
“Well, then, stop saying it,” I insisted. I wasn’t his love, so when he said it he didn’t mean it.
“I thought you were getting ready for bed?” he asked.
“I was, but you’re in here.”
“So you don’t want to be away from me either?”
“What?” I gasped. “I never said that.” I tipped my head to the side. “Did you say either?”
Marco laughed and loosened his tie. “You caught that, huh?” He completely untied his tie and dropped it on the dresser.
“Why are you getting undressed?” I asked.
“Because I’m trying to get comfortable.” He kicked off his shiny, black, expensive shoes. “Did you want to watch some of that show you like?”
My brain scrambled when he unbuttoned the two top buttons of his shirt. “Uh, show?” I couldn’t even remember what the question had been.
“Get ready for bed, Royal.” He grabbed his plate, added a few more mushrooms to it, and moved over to the bed.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m going to find the remote and then finish eating my dinner.” He grabbed the remote from the nightstand and tossed it on the bed. “Change and come to bed.”
What was happening? And why did I want to listen to him? His voice was firm, but it was soothing at the same time.
