Liam stared out the window, the city lights flickering past in a blur. His grip on the armrest was tight, his mind a storm he couldn't quiet. The auction, the bidding, the way they had reduced people to numbers—it had left something in him that wouldn't sit right.
He exhaled, slow and measured. "That wasn't what I expected," he said finally, glancing at Isabella.
She sat beside him, legs crossed, fingers tracing the rim of her glass. The dark tint of the car windows made the interior feel isolated, almost intimate. She met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "No?"
Liam hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I knew your world had... gray areas. But that was something else."
Isabella tilted her head slightly, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "And what do you think my world is, exactly?"
Liam leaned back, studying her. "I think it's powerful. Dangerous. Profitable." His voice dropped slightly. "I think it's a place where people do whatever it takes to stay on top."
A slow smile tugged at her lips. "That's an interesting assessment."
He didn't smile back. "Were you ever involved in that?" His tone was even, careful. Not accusatory—just searching.
Isabella took a slow sip of her drink, letting the question settle between them. When she lowered the glass, her gaze held his. "I've been involved in many things, Liam. Business is rarely clean."
Not an answer. Not really.
Liam held her stare, waiting.
Isabella sighed, as if indulging him. "But that? No." Her voice was smooth, effortless. "There are lines, even in my world. Some things are... untouchable."
Liam studied her, searching for something—an edge, a flicker of dishonesty. But there was nothing. Just the same cool composure she always carried.
And maybe that was the problem.
But he nodded, letting it go.
For now.
******
Back in the estate, it was quiet, save for the hum of the AC and the faint clink of ice against glass. Marcus leaned against the counter, the glass of whiskey in his hand swirling as he watched Christina stretch her arms above her head, her tank top lifting just enough to expose a sliver of toned stomach. His gaze lingered, appraising, before she caught him and smirked.
"Always restless when she's out," Christina mused, stepping closer.
Marcus took a slow sip, eyes narrowing. "And you're always nosy when you're bored."
Christina plucked the glass from his hand, her fingers brushing against his as she took a sip herself. The burn of the liquor barely registered as she licked a stray drop from her lower lip, watching him through lowered lashes.
Without a wordMarcus' hands— rough and demanding—gripped her hips, pinning her against the cool marble. Christina gasped as he spun her around, mouth crashing into hers with a hunger that bordered on desperation. She could taste the whiskey on his tongue, the faint hint of smoke and something darker, something that made her blood rush south.
"Always so fucking eager," Marcus growled against her mouth, fingers tangling in her hair and tugging just hard enough to make her gasp. She felt the hard length of him pressing against her, thick and insistent even through the fabric of his sweatpants.
Christina's hands found his waistband, tugging impatiently until he helped her shove them down just enough to free his cock. The moment it sprang out, she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking slow and deliberate. "Fuck," Marcus hissed through clenched teeth, hips jerking forward.
The sound of fabric tearing filled the room as he practically ripped her tank top off, exposing her breasts to the cool air. He palmed them roughly, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they pebbled under his touch. "You like that, don't you?" he muttered darkly, watching the way she arched into his hands. "Like being manhandled like the desperate little slut you are."
She rolled her eyes, but the way her hips bucked against him betrayed her. "Shut up and fuck me," she demanded, challenge in her voice.
In response, Marcus grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as he pinned her to the counter. He nipped at her jaw, teeth grazing skin until she was writhing under him. When he finally positioned himself at her entrance, she sucked in a sharp breath, body tensing in anticipation.
"Beg for it," he commanded, voice low and dangerous.
Christina's eyes flashed with defiance, but the words tumbled out anyway. "Please," she breathed, the word barely a whisper. "I need you."
With that, he thrust into her, hard and deep. She cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled her completely. He set a brutal pace, hips slamming into hers with each powerful thrust. The wet slap of skin against skin echoed through the room, punctuated by their harsh breaths and needy moans.
Christina's fingers found his hair, tugging hard as she met each thrust with equal fervor. "Fuck," she gasped, head falling back as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. "Right there—fuck—"
Marcus' hand found her clit, rubbing firm circles that made her walls clench around him. "That's it," he growled, voice rough with exertion. "Cum for me, Christina. Fucking drench my cock."
Her orgasm hit like a freight train, body seizing up as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She heard herself screaming his name, a litany of desperate curses and garbled pleas. In the distance, she felt him following her over the edge, cock throbbing inside her as he filled her with his release.
For a moment, they stayed like that—bodies pressed together, sweat-slicked skin still tingling with the aftershocks of their coupling. Then reality came crashing back, the distant sounds of the house filtering through the fog of their passion.
Marcus pulled out, tucking himself back into his sweatpants with practiced efficiency. Christina watched him through hooded eyes, a satisfied smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "Well," she said, drawing out the word. "That was—"
"Insufficient," he finished for her, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "But it'll have to do."
She laughed breathlessly, grabbing her tank top from the floor. "For now," she agreed, pulling it over her head. "But next time..."
The words hung between them, a promise and a challenge wrapped in one.
Next time would be even better.
Marcus exhaled roughly, running a hand through his hair. "Come on," he said, nodding towards the door. "We've got work to do."
Christina followed him out of the kitchen, hips swaying just enough to draw his gaze back to her ass. She grinned over her shoulder, catching him looking. "Eyes up here, Kincaid," she teased.
'And I hope Liam doesn't find out, I was horny after all and Marcus is just my fuck mate nothing special. Christina thought.'
He flipped her off without missing a beat. "Keep dreaming."
But there was a smile playing at the corner of his mouth—a small thing, barely there, but present nonetheless.
Somewhere in the house, footsteps sounded. Voices carried through the halls, growing closer with each step.
But for now—just for a moment—they had each other.