Chapter 131: Chapter 131 I Never Want To See You With Any Guy
Sarah’s POV
I sat on the floor with my back against the door, my bleeding finger forgotten as I stared at the ceiling, trying not to cry.
The blood was dripping onto my jeans. Now, I should clean it up. I should get a bandage so as not to get infected.
Instead, I just sat there.
After a mont of silence, I got up, and just in ti, the door slipped open, and Marcus walked in.
The door pushed open against my back, and I scrambled to my feet, stumbling backward into my room as he stepped inside.
He was still in his robe with his hair slightly disheveled, and I hated that I noticed.
He closed the door behind him.
My room suddenly felt very small.
"What do you want?" I asked my voice to co out steadier than I felt.
He didn’t answer. His eyes dropped to my hand, to the blood still dripping slowly onto the floor.
"Co here."
"No."
His eyes snapped up to mine. Sothing flickered there, surprise maybe or amusent, I couldn’t tell.
"I said, ’ Co here."
"And I said no." I crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the sting in my finger. "I don’t need anything from you. Go back to your guest, I’m sure she’s wondering where you are."
He took a step closer and then another.
I backed up instinctively until my legs hit the edge of my bed.
He kept coming.
"What are you doing?" My voice cracked slightly. "Stop.... I said I don’t need your help."
He didn’t stop but kept walking until he was right in front of , so close I could sll him, sothing clean and masculine.... Soap and sothing else that was just him.
"Sit down."
"No."
He grabbed my arm, not hard or rough but firm. His hand wrapped around my bicep, and he guided
backward until my knees buckled and I was sitting on the edge of the bed.
"There." He let go. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"
I glared up at him. "What do you want?"
He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a small first aid kit, setting it on the bed beside .
"My hand is fine."
"It’s bleeding."
"I’ll take care of it."
"When?"
His jaw tightened just slightly. The only indication that I was getting under his skin.
"Give
your hand."
"No."
"Sarah." He said my na like a warning
"What? Are you going to fire ? Go ahead, I’ve been fired before. It’s not that scary."
He stared at
for a long mont.
Those dark eyes are unreadable.
Then he crouched down in front of
so we were at eye level.
"Give
your hand."
"Why do you care?"
"I don’t."
"Then leave."
"I’m not leaving until I fix what happened on my watch."
I laughed. A bitter, broken sound. "On your watch? I cut myself on a plate. It’s not your responsibility."
"You cut yourself because my guest was a bitch."
I blinked. The word sounded wrong coming from him.
Too crude.
"Your words," I said quietly. "Not mine."
"Give
your hand, Sarah."
I held out my hand.
He took it gently, so gently it made my chest ache. He turned it over, examining the cut with his fingers, warm against my skin.
"It’s not deep," he said quietly.
I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t even not with him kneeling in front of , holding my hand like it was sothing precious.
He opened the first aid kit with one hand, not letting go of mine. He pulled out an antiseptic wipe and ripped it open with his teeth.
"This will sting."
"I know."
It did sting. It burned like fire, and I hissed, pulling back instinctively.
He held firm. "Stop moving."
"It hurts."
"I know. Hold still."
I watched his face as he cleaned the cut; his focus was absolute. Like nothing in the world existed except this mont, except my hand in his.
"Why did you co here?" I whispered.
He didn’t look up. "Because you’re bleeding."
"That’s not a reason."
"It’s the only reason I need."
"You have a woman in your room, she’s waiting for you."
He kept cleaning my finger, dabbing away the blood, examining the wound with careful attention.
"She’s gone."
I blinked. "What?"
"I told her to leave."
"When?"
"When I saw what she did."
I stared at him. "You... you believed ?"
He finally looked up, his eyes eting mine, and I couldn’t breathe.
"I saw what happened."
"What?"
"I watched from the door."
My throat tightened. "Then why did you ask? Why did you say, ’Is that true?"
"I wanted to see what you would say."
"And what did you learn?"
He held my gaze. "That you’d rather bleed than defend yourself."
I looked away, my hand trembled slightly in his.
"You should be more careful," he said quietly.
"I’ll try."
"Not with the plates." He looked up. "With yourself, you give too much of yourself away. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and you let people walk all over you."
I pulled my hand back. "You don’t know ."
"I know enough."
"You know nothing." My voice rose.
He was quiet, just watching
with those unreadable eyes.
"No." I stood up suddenly, backing away from him. "You don’t get to co in here and play hero, you don’t get to patch up my finger and look at
with those eyes and make
feel like maybe you see sothing different. You made your opinion of
clear from day one."
He stood up slowly, towering over
in my small room.
"And what opinion is that?"
"That I’m a liability, that I’m not to be trusted. That I’m only here because of a contract and the mont I step out of line, you’ll throw
out."
He took a step toward .
I stepped back.
"You’re not wrong," he said quietly.
I felt the words like a physical blow.
My chest tightened.
My eyes burned.
"Right," I whispered. "Of course. So why are you here? Why fix my finger? Why tell your... your guest to leave? Why any of it?"
"Because despite all of that," he said, taking another step, "we agreed on fidelity when we signed the contract."
I stopped backing up.
"You should go," I said quietly.
"I know."
He didn’t move.
"Marcus."
"Sarah."
"What do you want from ?" I asked if my voice was barely a breath.
"I never want to see you again with any guy."
And with that, he left.
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