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“Why should I believe you?” she asked, sitting up and pulling her sleep shorts lower. They had ridden up, exposing her smooth, toned legs, and my mouth went dry as I imagined those legs wrapped around my shoulders.
I blew out a breath and dragged my eyes back to hers. This attack of lust was really inconvenient.
“You can speak to her if you like,” I said. “Call the last dialed number.”
Leo had thrown Tia’s phone into a dumpster when he kidnapped her because he didn’t want her brother to track her down, but I was sure he’d put her on the line to reassure Celine. The trouble was that the call went unanswered. Celine stared at me suspiciously as I took the phone from her and called Leo again. He still didn’t answer. What on earth was he doing?
Meanwhile, Celine stared at me with increasing suspicion.
“Look, I’m trying to reach her, but my brother isn’t answering his phone,” I explained.
She stared longingly at the saucepan that was thankfully at the other end of the room.
“I swear I’m not here to hurt you, Celine,” I added hastily because she looked like she was a few seconds away from hurling a set of coasters at me like Chinese throwing stars.
“Where is Tia?” she asked finally.
“She’s at my family’s home, and I promise she’s safe. My brother, Leo, rescued her from the art gallery before Jeff Sabri could get his grubby hands on her. And we will keep her safe, no matter what. You can google my family if you like,” I offered.
“Leo Donovan? That Manhattan billionaire?” she asked abruptly.
I hated that title. It all began when Vogue did a feature on America’s most eligible billionaires. Leo, Luke, and I made the top three, and that ridiculous title had haunted us ever since. But Celine only seemed to have heard about Leo. I didn’t know why that stung me, but it did. I was in the fucking magazine as well. Right next to Leo. And I was way better looking than him! So why didn’t she remember me?
I shook the thought off and forced a smile.
“Yes. That Leo Donovan. I’m his younger brother.”
“Look, Mike,” she began.
“Marcus,” I snapped.
Did I honestly look like a Mike?
Celine rolled her eyes at my interruption.
“Sorry,Marcus,” she said pointedly. “I don’t care who you are, but you can’t just break into a woman’s house.”
“You left the front door unlocked,” I accused, and she flushed uncomfortably.
“That doesn’t mean you can walk in like you own the place,” she argued.
“I’m sorry, but I was worried Tia’s brother had hurt you. I was trying to make sure you were okay,” I explained.
“Alright, you’ve seen me. I’m okay. You can leave now,” she replied.
“What’s the hurry? Are you expecting someone? Is that why you left the door open?” I asked suspiciously.
“No. I left the door open because I’m an idiot,” she exclaimed. “I never do such a thing normally.”
“Hey, it’s okay. There’s no harm done,” I said, putting a hand out to reassure her.
I pulled it back before I could touch her because touching Celine Kramer seemed like a really bad idea right now. I was the smart, responsible Donovan who had never put a foot wrong, and I wasn’t going to start now. Tia had trusted me to protect her friend, and I wasn’t going to let her down by hitting on a woman in a vulnerable position.
Although, Celine did look like she could protect herself. She looked capable of breaking my finger in three places if I so much as poked her in the shoulder.
“Thanks, Marco,” she said, and I tried not to hiss in frustration when she said my name wrong again. The woman had the attention span of a fruit fly. Or… she was doing this on purpose. To piss me off.
I took a deep breath and tried not to lose it on her. My job here was done. Tia had asked me to check on her friend, and I had done that. She was fine. I was fine. We were both fine. And I needed to get the hell out of here before I lost my mind.
