"If we do this," she whispered, her fingers hovering over the folder, "there’s no going back to the way things were. We aren't the heroes of this story anymore."
Marcus reached out, his hand covering hers. His grip was firm, grounding, and entirely too comfortable. Naughty Nice [Chapter 3]
Elena sat in the corner booth of 'The Daily Grind,' watching the snow turn to gray slush against the windowpane. Opposite her, Marcus was doing that thing with his pen—clicking it in a rhythmic, agonizing pulse that matched the ticking of the wall clock. To anyone else, they looked like two coworkers finishing a late-shift project. To Elena, they looked like a crime scene waiting to happen. "If we do this," she whispered, her fingers
"You’re being too quiet," Marcus said, his voice dropping an octave. He didn’t look up from the ledger. "It makes me think you’re actually considering the 'Nice' route. We discussed this, El. Nice doesn't pay the lease on this building." Elena sat in the corner booth of 'The
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Marcus finally looked up. His eyes, usually bright with a curated, boy-next-door charm, were dark and sharp. This was the version of him the board members never saw—the 'Naughty' hidden beneath the bespoke wool suit.