CHAPTER FOUR
2031 Words
POPPY
I shot upright in bed, heart slamming against my ribs. The room spun for a second before settling, unfamiliar walls, dim morning light, the faint scent of Marcus’s cologne on the sheets.
Then it crashed over me.
Damian’s voice, smooth and fake-sorry. “Just want to talk, Poppy. I brought your favorite champagne.”
I’d believed him. Like an i***t, I’d followed him.
Tears burned hot down my cheeks. I clutched the blanket to my chest, shaking. How could I have been so stupid? Again.
My eyes darted around the room. No Damian. But I was wearing Marcus’s white shirt from last night, buttons half-done, sleeves swallowing my hands, and the red dress lay crumpled like a ruined skirt at the foot of the bed.
Where was Marcus?
The door creaked open. Sharon slipped in first, eyes wide with worry. Lucas loomed behind her.
“Oh, sweetie.” Sharon rushed over, sitting beside me, rubbing slow circles on my back.
I collapsed against her shoulder, sobs breaking free. Everything felt raw, my throat, my chest, my skin.
“You’re safe now,” she whispered, but her voice trembled.
Lucas stood rigid by the door, arms crossed tight, jaw locked.
“You dumb thing,” he snapped.
Sharon’s head whipped up. “Lucas!”
I lifted my face, wiping tears with the back of my hand. “No. Let him.”
He stepped closer, eyes blazing. “You just had to go with him, didn’t you? He’s getting married, Poppy. What did you think would happen, an apology? A grand romantic gesture?”
His words cut deep because they were true.
“Yes, Lucas!” I shouted, voice cracking. “People deserve second chances!”
He leaned in, furious. “When are you going to accept that he never loved you? Not in high school. Not ever. Why the hell would he start now?”
The truth hit like a fist to the sternum. I curled forward, hand pressing hard over my heart as if I could hold the pieces together. A broken sound escaped me, half sob, half scream.
“Lucas, enough!” Sharon yelled, tears in her own eyes now.
He exhaled sharply. “f**k this. I’m going home.”
He stormed out. Sharon looked torn, guilt flashing across her face.
“Go with him,” I whispered, forcing the words out. “Please. I don’t want to ruin things for you.”
She shook her head, tears spilling. “I can’t leave you like this.”
“I’ll be fine.” I squeezed her hand and managed a wobbly smile. “Go.”
She stood slowly, reluctant, then followed him.
The door clicked shut. Silence pressed in.
I couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t keep crying over someone who’d drugged me at his own engagement party.
I needed Marcus.
His club was alive with afternoon light and low music. Laughter floated over the clink of glasses. My stomach knotted tighter with every step. Shoulders hunched, I hugged my arms around myself, Marcus’s oversized shirt tucked into the ruined red dress, looking like I’d crawled out of a bad decision.
Which I had.
He was behind the bar, mixing a drink, smiling at some girl leaning on the counter.
My throat closed. I almost turned back.
But then his eyes lifted and found mine.
The smile vanished. Worry flooded his face.
“Poppy…”
He vaulted over the bar, actually vaulted, and closed the distance in seconds. Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his chest. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed it until I was there, breathing him in, my face pressed to his shoulder.
He held me tight, one hand cradling the back of my head.
“I’m so sorry I left,” he murmured against my hair, voice rough. “I couldn’t stay after… I didn’t know how you’d look at me. I swear I didn’t take advantage of you. It was the only way to calm the drug, to help you sleep—”
I pulled back just enough to see his face. “What are you talking about?”
He searched my eyes, expression falling. “You… don’t remember?”
I shook my head, cheeks heating.
“What happened?”
He swallowed hard, guilt flickering. “Did we—?”
“No,” he said quickly. “No. I just… I used my hand. To help you come down from whatever he gave you. That’s all.”
My face burned scarlet. The image flashed unbidden, his fingers, my body arching, pleasure I couldn’t recall but somehow still felt in my bones.
I dropped my gaze, mortified and strangely aching.
He cupped my cheek gently, tilting my face back up. His thumb brushed away a tear I hadn’t noticed.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Look at me.”
I did.
His eyes were fierce and soft all at once.
“I’m glad you don’t remember the bad parts,” he said quietly. “But I need you to know, I’d never hurt you. Never take something you didn’t give freely.”
My chest tightened. Fresh tears welled, but this time they weren’t for Damian.
“Thank you,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
He pulled me back into his arms, chin resting on my head.
“You’re safe now, pretty,” he murmured. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
I stayed with Marcus until night fell, the club transforming from quiet afternoon haven to pulsing, neon-lit chaos. I didn’t want to leave. Every minute with him felt like borrowing happiness I wasn’t sure I deserved.
He moved behind the bar with effortless confidence, mixing drinks, laughing easily, eyes finding mine across the room every few minutes like he needed to check I was still there. Each time our gazes locked, warmth bloomed in my chest, soft and dizzying. He adored me. I could feel it in the way he spoke my name, the way his voice dropped when he leaned close to ask if I was okay. Like I was something precious he was afraid of breaking.
But beneath the flutter and heat, gratitude burned hotter than anything else. He’d saved me, literally pulled me out of Damian’s hands. And I wanted to thank him. Not with words. Words felt too small.
He’d mentioned the club would be packed tonight, then added, almost shyly, “Stay with me?” The way he’d said it, low, hopeful, fingers brushing mine, made my heart stutter. Romantic didn’t cover it. I could have screamed right there from pure, giddy want.
So I stayed.
I watched him work, perched on a stool near the end of the bar where he could reach me easily. Every time a girl leaned too far over the counter, batting her lashes and smiling too widely, he’d nod politely, then glance at me, tilt his head slightly in my direction, a small smile playing on his lips. The girls would follow his gaze, see me, and deflate. I tried not to feel smug. Failed.
God, I wanted him. Not just the sweet, protective version who held me when I cried. I wanted the heat I’d felt in flashes, his hands on me, his mouth, his body pressing me into a mattress until I forgot my own name. The thought alone sent liquid warmth pooling low in my belly. I shifted on the stool, thighs pressing together.
I’d nearly confessed earlier, blushing like an i***t, that I’d touched myself thinking about his i********: photos. The gym ones. The suits ones. All of them. Cringe didn’t begin to cover how mortifying that would be. So I kept it locked behind my teeth and let the want simmer.
Late into the night, the door swung open, and Sharon breezed in, handbag swinging, Lucas trailing behind her like a shadow.
I felt my smile tighten.
Sharon squealed the second she spotted me, rushing over for a crushing hug. “Hi, girl!”
I hugged her back fiercely. She was chaos and love in human form, but my eyes slid past her to Lucas. He met my stare with cool indifference, arms crossed. The memory of his words in that hotel room stung fresh: *You dumb thing.* Like I was a burden. A disappointment.
I ignored him completely.
Sharon didn’t notice the tension. “Tonight we’re celebrating!” she declared, already pouring herself wine. “You’re finally over that bastard Damian, and now you’re with…” She waved dramatically at Marcus. “The mysterious hot guy!”
I laughed at myself, warmth spreading at the memory of how Sharon and I met, her storming in like a superhero when Damian slapped me in a crowded cinema, delivering a smack that echoed through the theater. She’d looked at trembling, humiliated me and said, "You’re way too hot for a jerk like that." I’d been mad at first. Then grateful. Forever grateful.
Why had I never believed her until now?
“Drinks on me,” Marcus said, appearing at my side like he’d materialized from my thoughts. His lips brushed my cheek, soft, deliberate, and my whole body lit up, cheeks flaming, stomach flipping wildly.
Sharon squealed again. “Oh my God, the romantic moves already!”
Lucas rolled his eyes, but before he could comment, Marcus’s arm slid around my waist, possessive and steady.
“Isn’t it too soon, Poppy?” Lucas said anyway, voice edged. “You barely know this guy.”
Marcus’s grip tightened slightly. “Why don’t you mind your business, Lucas?”
“Yeah,” I added, glaring. “Why don’t you?”
I was done with his judgmental big-brother act. Done feeling small under his stare.
Sharon jumped in quickly. “Okay, everyone, calm down. Lucas, it’s really none of your business who my best friend chooses.” She pulled him down for a kiss, defusing the tension like only she could.
The night blurred into music and laughter. My plan looped in my head like a mantra: *Get tipsy. Find Marcus. Let him see the side of me that isn’t broken.*
But Marcus got swallowed by the crowd, orders piling up, guests demanding attention. Sharon and Lucas disappeared into a dark corner, lost in each other.
I sat alone at our table, sipping wine that went down too easily, eyes locked on Marcus.
He was talking to a girl now.
Slim. Petite. Gorgeous. Long dark hair, a confident smile, hand resting casually on his forearm as she laughed at something he said.
He was smiling back.
Not the polite customer service kind. A real one, dimples flashing, head tilted, engaged.
Jealousy hit me like a slap, sharp, breathless, ugly. It clawed up my throat and sank its teeth into my chest. My fingers tightened around the stem of my glass.
She touched his shoulder again. Lingered.
He didn’t move away.
I downed the rest of my wine in one burning swallow and stood.
The room tilted, then righted itself. My legs were unsteady, but determination burned hotter than the alcohol.
I wove through the crowd, vision narrowing to just him. Ignored the girl completely.
Marcus turned as I reached him, concern flashing. “Poppy, are you—”
I didn’t let him finish.
I rose on my toes, cupped his face in both hands, and crashed my lips into his.
Hard. Desperate. Claiming.
The world fell away, the music, the voices, the pretty girl. There was only the heat of his mouth, the scratch of his stubble, the way his body went rigid with shock for half a second before his hands gripped my waist like he was afraid I’d vanish.
I poured everything into that kiss: gratitude, want, jealousy, and relief. All the words I couldn’t say.
When I finally pulled back, gasping, his eyes were dark and blazing, his lips swollen, his chest rising fast.
The girl was gone.
“Pretty,” he rasped, voice rough with something that made my knees weak. “What was that for?”
I swallowed, heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it.
“Because you’re mine tonight,” I whispered. “And I’m done waiting.”
- Writer
