Stuck with you

Chapter Nine

Kate's POV

It was late evening already — just the way time really flies. Marcus had ordered me to stay in all day.

I still can't believe I did that. I found myself realizing I didn't even know how long the whole thing would last — me trying to do what I don't know how to do, and him ordering me around like it was that simple.

I didn't even ask how long.

I was standing by the mirror now, looking at the dress Leah bought me again. They somehow always know what I like.

The dress was an A-line one, the color suiting my body so well that I forgot I was hurt on my back.

"I guess you must be well satisfied with the dress, then." The voice came from behind me.

I turned, my eyes locking on him.

Marcus.

"You know that door has a lock on it, right? You just get in as you like," I said, fixing my eyes on him.

He stepped closer.

"Then I'll suppose you're more with your eyes than your ears."

This man doesn't fail to annoy me.

"You should have knocked louder," I answered.

But what I really wished was to drag him out of my room.

"I knocked once, and only once," he said, implying.

I knew he knew he was getting on my nerves.

"You know what, I've been thinking," I said, stepping closer to him.

"When will this end — like, the contract? I know I pissed you off by talking back to you, but you can't possibly keep me forever." I said it believing he would admit it.

But he smiled.

My expression turned blank.

"You did," he said.

I refused to accept it as a question.

"Well," he continued, stepping closer now.

"It ends when I say it will."

What the hell.

"For now." He was still talking. I could see his fingers reaching for my face.

"Just know — you're stuck here. And stuck with me."

My heart scattered. I couldn't imagine another week with him.

But what if it wasn't a week, or months —

My gaze locked into his eyes.

This isn't going to be good, I thought.

His fingers grazed my cheek, and I hated how much my body betrayed me by not pulling away fast enough.

"Say something," he said, voice low.

"There's nothing to say." I finally stepped back, putting space between us. "You've made yourself clear."

"Have I?" He tilted his head, like he was studying something he hadn't quite figured out yet.

"Because you still look at me like you're deciding whether to hate me or not."

"I already decided."

"Mm." He didn't look convinced. "Then it should be easy for you. Hating someone you're stuck with — people do it for a lifetime."

The word lifetime landed heavier than he probably meant it to. Or maybe he meant it exactly that heavy.

"Marcus." I made myself say his name steadily. "I need to know what I'm actually agreeing to. Not threats. Not riddles. An answer."

Something shifted in his face — not softness, but maybe the edge of it.

"You want an answer," he said. "Fine. Ask me tomorrow. Tonight, I only came to see if the dress fit."

He turned before I could argue, pausing once at the door.

"It does, by the way," he said, not looking back.

"Fit you. Better than I expected."

The door clicked shut.

I stood there for a long moment, furious that my heart hadn't caught up with my head yet.

_____

Marcus's POV

The stubborn look on her face when I left got me smiling as I walked back to my space.

She really had a way of intriguing me, and until I figured out what it was about her, I knew I wasn't letting her go.

I could see Tank coming toward me.

"Buddy, your mother is here," he said, reaching me.

I was suddenly taken aback.

Why today, of all days?

"Where is she?" I asked Tank instead.

"The living room. She isn't agreeing to entertainment either," Tank said. I could see the smile on his lips.

"This isn't funny," I snapped.

"But poor Granny deserves to see her grandchildren, right?" Tank replied.

I took one last look at him and left. After all, he was the married one — I was the single one.

On getting to the private living room, I could see her. She didn't even want to look at me; she was sitting on a couch facing forward.

"Good evening, Mom," I said.

Her gaze suddenly met mine. "Marcus, you are so unbelievable."

I sighed.

"After all the unanswered calls and messages," she said.

"I'm sorry, you know how—" I tried finding a way out of the conversation.

"You are not the only soldier, son," she cut in.

"I have seen more of you, and they have families. Yours shouldn't be any different."

I knew there wasn't a way out of this conversation.

I decided to sit.

"But what am I supposed to do?" I asked.

"Find a woman and marry her," she answered.

"You have pretty ladies here, you know," she added.

I knew she was talking about the maidens I always take in to live at my residence.

I thought for a second. I have to get out of this conversation.

"Mom, I'll listen to you today. I understand I'm getting older too," I said, trying to look remorseful.

She looked at me. "I hope you mean it," she said.

I smiled. She knows me.

"Yes," I replied, wishing I meant it.

"Good, I know you should listen," she said, coming toward me.

She sat next to me, holding my hands now.

"Your dad can't wait until this happens. Please don't let me down this year."

This year, I thought.

This year is almost coming to an end.

"Mom, let's get you something," I said, signaling a maid.

"Okay, just orange juice," she said. The maid nodded and left.

I looked at my mom. It was almost nightfall.

"Mom, we'll need to get you back safely," I decided to say.

"No, I'm staying tonight," she said.

Oh no.

She grabbed her phone, then smiled at me.

I tried to smile back.

I seriously knew this wasn't going to work in my favor.