Bella Jewel

The receptionist. Bad timing, lady.

“Marcus,” I whisper.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, then yells, “Be there in ten.”

“Did you want me to prepare the presentation?”

He slides his cock out then drives it back in, making me whimper into his chest.

“Yeah.”

“And what about morning tea? Who is organizing that?”

“Tell her to go away,” I whisper into his ear. “God. Marcus. I need you to fuck me harder.”

He flashes me a rare, wild grin and my heart does a little flip-flop. He tilts my hips, lifting them off the door slightly, and continues fucking me while he answers. My nipples harden against his suit jacket, and God, I want to come.

“Candice knows,” he yells out. “Now, if you don’t mind?”

“Right,” she says. “Sorry.”

He turns his face back to me, and starts fucking me hard again. I come after the second deep thrust and my body convulses around him.

“Yeah,” he grunts.

Then he’s coming too. He slows his thrusts, head thrown back, jaw tight. He milks himself using my body, groaning with each pull and push. Then he slowly lowers me off him and I straighten.

“I never said thank you,” I whisper.

His eyes flash to mine. “Thought that was what you just did.”

I smile shyly.

He studies me.

Then he turns away, something coming across his face I don’t quite understand.

“I have to go to this meeting,” he informs me.

“I know.”

“Dinner tonight, seven.”

It’s an order. I’m happy to oblige.

“Okay.”

He turns to me, pulls me forward, kisses me hard, and then he’s gone.

And I think I just fell in love with him.

When I reach the front door, I rub my eyes and then swing the door open. There’s a good-looking man standing there, and as I take him in, he seems familiar some how. He’s tall, super tall. He’s got dark hair that curls around his shoulders, and chocolate brown eyes.

His skin is a beautiful olive and overall he’s quite handsome. Older, but handsome. Without a doubt. Something strange nags at my chest. It’s like I’ve met him before. Maybe he’s been into the office. I’m not sure, but there’s something about him...

“Is Marcus here?” he barks, cutting off my thoughts.

“Pardon?” I say.

Jesus, someone is rude.

“I said,” he growls, glaring past me. “Is Marcus here?”

“And you are...”

“The name is Pierre.”

My entire world stands still and everything falls into place. The reason I’ve seen him before, the

“I...”

“Jesus, tell Marcus he has a guest, will you?”

I blink at him.

He hasn’t really studied me, not a lot. His eyes have barely landed on mine, because they’re darting behind me, from side to side, and basically scanning the perimeter. When I still don’t answer his question, he finally looks at me and his eyes scan over my face and he freezes. His entire body jerks and he goes so still I’m worried he’s about to have some sort of panic attack.

I know it’s because he can see her. I look so much like my mother, there’s no denying that. I thought it was always her I got 100% of my features from, but now I’m studying him, up close, there’s so much about me that’s like him, too.

“I’ll,” I swallow. “Get him.”

My father.

Here in front of me.

I don’t...I don’t understand.

I turn, with trembling legs and hurry back into the house.

“Wait!”

Shit. He can see it, too.

I keep rushing.

“I said,” he growls, rushing in and taking hold of my arm. “Wait.”

He spins me around and I gasp, struggling backwards.

“I don’t...understand?” he breathes. “Who are you?”

“I’m sorry,” I cry. “I don’t know you. Please, let me go.”

It’s such a lie, I don’t even know why I said it, but suddenly I’m panicked. My father is in front of me. My father. How the hell am I supposed to understand it, let alone deal with it? His eyes flash at my words and I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

“Who is your mother?”

Oh shit.

“Marcus?” I cry, angrily.

“Answer me, girl.”

“Please,” I whimper.

“It’s Sandra, isn’t it?”

“Stop, oh God,” I cry. “Marcus!”

“How old are you?”

I jerk my arm from his grip and we stand there, staring at each other. I can tell by his face this has come as a shock to him. A huge shock. His eyes are frantically scanning over my face and his breathing is deep and trembling. He can see it; I know he can because I do. My skin. The shape of my eyes. Even my nose. It’s all his.

“It can’t be true,” he whispers.

Tears burn under my eyelids. It’s my dad. My dad...

“It’s why she ran, isn’t it?”

He really didn’t know about me. Oh God.

“I didn’t know.”

Double oh God.

My chest seizes.

“I didn’t fucking know,” he whispers.

I hang up the phone just as Katia stirs. Her eyes flicker open and point directly towards me and I can see her hurt.

Shit.

around her face as I near the table. Stopping, I lean down and murmur into her ear, “Surprise.”

Then she opens her eyes.

And when she gasps?

I know I’ve won.

“I fucking love you, Marcus Tandem. I don’t care what happens in my life, as long as I have you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

the color slowly come back into her face. She groans softly, fingers raising up to clutch mine. “Marcus?” she calls.

“Here,” I rasp.

My head is spinning, my mind going far and beyond as I process what the fuck just happened.

It’s not that Katia choked on her own vomit, or food, or whatever the fuck was in her throat.

It’s not that she threw up all over herself, the floor, and me.

No.

It’s more.

It’s the fact that for the first time in my life, I felt fear for another human being.

Fear.

For her.

Fuck.