Anna’s POV
"Taking you to lunch," he replied simply, his voice matter-of-fact as though carrying was the most natural thing in the world.
I opened my mouth to protest but found myself speechless. The shock of Logan’s betrayal still reverberated through , leaving a hollowness that made even forming words difficult. My shoulders throbbed with pain, a physical reminder of the price I’d nearly paid for his twisted obsession.
Marcus carried through the manor with surprising gentleness for a man his size. Each careful step seed calibrated not to jostle my injured shoulders.
The dining room of Golden Oak Manor unfolded before us, a space so grand it made my own ho at Goldenleaf Manor seem modest by comparison.
With careful movents, Marcus lowered into the chair at the head of the table. I expected a servant to appear-soone to help with the al since my arms were essentially useless. Instead, Marcus took the seat directly beside , his proximity sending an unexpected flutter through my chest.
Servers glided silently into the room, presenting dish after dish of exquisitely prepared food. The aromas should have been enticing, but the gnawing emptiness inside had killed any appetite I might have had. I stared at the plate placed before , suddenly overwheld by the simple impossibility of eating without the use of my arms.
My cheeks ward with embarrassnt as the reality of my helplessness sank in.
Marcus picked up my fork without comnt, loading it with a perfect bite from my plate. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
"Uncle Marcus, I can..." My voice trailed off, the lie obvious before it even fully left my lips. I couldn’t do anything for myself right now, and we both knew it.
"Open your mouth," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for argunt.
His gaze fixed on my lips with an intensity that made my pulse quicken unexpectedly. Sothing in the air between us shifted—a subtle change in pressure, in temperature. The massive dining room suddenly felt intimate, almost confining. Though nothing had visibly changed, I felt as though Marcus was sohow closer than he had been seconds before.
His eyes never left mine as he held the fork poised before , and I found myself srized by the unexpected softness I found there. For a briet, disorienting mont, I forgot about Logan’s betrayal, forgot about my injuries, forgot about everything except the strange electricity humming between us.
"Open your mouth," he repeated, his voice noticeably gentler this ti, carrying a tenderness I’d never heard from him before.
Almost hypnotized, I parted my lips, accepting the offered bite. The flavors burst across my tongue-perfectly seared steak with a red wine reduction—but I barely registered them. I was too distracted by the way Marcus watched chew, his expression unreadable yet sohow more open than I’d ever seen it.
One bite followed another, and gradually, I surrendered to the experience. _Since I can’t use my arms anyway, I might as well enjoy being cared for_, I rationalized to myself, accepting each morsel he offered.
The servers had long since departed, leaving us alone in the vast dining room. The only sounds were the soft clink of silverware against china and our occasional quiet comnts. A strange peacefulness settled over despite everything that had happened.
After several minutes of comfortable silence, Marcus’s expression shifted back to its usual impassivity. "About Logan Porter," he said, his tone returning to its customary coolness.
"What do you intend to do?"
The ntion of Logan’s na sent a fresh wave of pain through , but it was duller now, tempered by exhaustion. I swallowed my current bite before answering honestly.
"I don’t have any plans. Our families are too closely connected for to avoid him completely, even if I wanted to."
Marcus frowned slightly, sothing flashing behind his eyes that I couldn’t quite identify. Disapproval? Concern?
"You should remain vigilant," he advised, his voice carrying unmistakable protective undertones.
"I know," I replied softly.
Marcus’s POV
I had initially planned to handle the Logan Porter situation privately. Anna had already experienced enough trauma from his betrayal, and part of wanted to shield her from the ugly truth. But watching her face as realization dawned-seeing that razor-sharp intelligence piece everything together—I knew she deserved to confront her demons directly.
Her composure throughout the entire confrontation impressed . Most people would have crumbled under the weight of such betrayal, especially from soone they’d considered a lifelong friend. But Anna Shaw wasn’t most people. She maintained her dignity even as her world tilted on its axis.
Now, seated beside her in Golden Oak Manor’s private dining room, I found myself studying her profile as winter sunlight stread through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I speared another piece of steak with her fork, holding it before her lips.
"You need to eat more," I said, my voice softer than I’d intended.
Anna parted her lips obediently, accepting the food with a small nod of thanks. The vulnerability in her eyes stirred sothing primal in -the urge to protect, to possess.
Her gaze drifted to the untouched water glass. Following her unspoken request, I brought it to her lips, tipping it carefully as she drank. A small drop of sauce lingered at the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, I reached out, gently wiping it away with my thumb.
Ti seed to freeze. Her eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating as they t mine. My heart kicked against my ribs with unexpected force.
The space between us-already intimate-suddenly felt charged with electricity.
I found myself leaning forward, drawn by so magnetic pull I couldn’t— didn’t want to—resist. My thumb traced the outline of her lower lip, feeling its softness. The small, sharp intake of her breath was the only sound in the room.
Giving in to impulse, I pressed my lips against the corner of her mouth-not quite a kiss, but far from innocent. Just the barest touch, lasting only a mont, yet it sent lightning crackling through my veins.
When I pulled back, her cheeks had blood with color. I could see her pulse fluttering rapidly at the base of her throat.
"Uncle Marcus," she finally managed, her voice carrying a slight tremor, "do you think this is... appropriate?"
I t her confused gaze directly, not a trace of apology in my voice.
"Appropriate."
The single word hung between us, neither a question nor fully an answer.
Simply a statent of fact-whatever existed between us felt right to , and I wouldn’t pretend otherwise.
She drew a deep breath, clearly trying to collect herself. "I’m full now, thank you for lunch. May I leave?"
I studied her flushed face, enjoying the subtle play of emotions she was trying desperately to hide. "There are no drivers available at the mont. Were you planning to walk back?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly, that brilliant mind of hers clearly spotting the flimsy excuse. "What about Peter?
Or any of your other staff?"
"They all have assignnts," I replied smoothly, watching her expression shift between frustration and resignation.
This small victory-keeping her here just a little longer-satisfied sothing deep within .
I motioned for the housekeeper who had been waiting discreetly in the doorway. "Please show Ms. Shaw to the guest suite."
Turning back to Anna, I softened my tone. "I have so matters to attend to. Rest for a while, and I’ll drive you ho myself later."
She opened her mouth as if to protest, then closed it again, accepting defeat with as much grace as she could muster.
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