Chapter 5 - Midnight Confessions
By 10:00 PM, the family dinner had finally wound down.
The sisters had retreated to the west wing, the uncles had retired to the billiard room with glasses of scotch, and Elena had finally vanished to her private quarters.
I stood on the massive second-floor balcony attached to the guest suite, wrapped in a plush white bathrobe, staring out at the dark, churning expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. The moon cast a shimmering silver path across the black water, and the cool night breeze carried the sharp, salty scent of the sea.
The door behind me clicked open.
Footsteps padded softly across the hardwood floor, and a moment later, a heavy wool jacket settled gently over my shoulders. The fabric was still warm from Marco’s body.
“You’re going to catch a cold out here,” his deep voice murmured from right beside me.
I clutched the lapels of his jacket closer around myself, leaning my forearms against the cool stone balustrade. “I’m fine. Just... processing.”
Marco stepped up beside me, leaning against the railing as well. He had shed his suit jacket and tie; his white linen shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled up.
“You were brilliant today,” he said quietly, looking out at the ocean. “My family is a pack of wolves. They chew through outsiders for sport. You held your ground.”
“I lied through my teeth,” I whispered, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “I told your mother we met at a museum charity event when, in reality, I spent yesterday morning organizing your dry-cleaning receipts and filing your tax documents.”
Marco was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turned his head to look at me. The amber light spilling from the bedroom window caught the sharp angles of his face, casting deep shadows beneath his green eyes.
“Do you regret it?” he asked. His voice had lost its usual commanding edge. It sounded uncharacteristically hesitant.
I turned my head to meet his gaze. The distance between us on the balcony was barely a foot. I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his irises, could feel the heavy, magnetic pull drawing me toward him like gravity.
Yes, a voice screamed inside my head. I regret it because every second I have to pretend to be your girlfriend is a sharp reminder that when this week is over, I go back to being invisible.
“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. “I don’t regret it.”
Marco’s gaze dropped slowly to my lips, lingering there for a heart-stopping second. His chest rose and fell in a sharp, uneven breath. He took a half-step closer, closing the gap until his arm brushed against mine.
“Emily...” he murmured, his voice rough, thick with an emotion I couldn't quite decipher.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Is he going to kiss me? Is this part of the act, or is it real?
Before either of us could move, a sharp, piercing knock echoed from the bedroom door inside the suite.
We both jumped apart as if struck by lightning.
“Marco!” Elena’s voice rang out from the hallway through the open balcony door. “Are you awake? We need to talk about the guest seating arrangements for tomorrow’s garden brunch.”
Marco closed his eyes, letting out a harsh, frustrated breath. He ran a hand through his dark hair, dragging it back from his forehead.
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“I have to go,” he muttered, his voice strained. He looked back down at me, his green eyes burning with something fierce and unresolved. “Stay inside, Emily. Lock your door.”
And with that, he turned and strode briskly back into the bedroom, leaving me standing alone in the dark, shivering in his oversized jacket while my heart raced a million miles an hour.
