Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You
Chapter 168: Date Night

Chapter 168: Date Night

Rebecca

It’s Saturday night, and my date with Kevin is in less than an hour.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror for the sixth time in the last ten minutes, tugging at the sleeve of my dress like it’s suddenly too tight, too bright, too not me. My lipstick is too red. My hair has too much volume. I look like someone trying too hard—and maybe I am.

Kevin is sweet. Safe. Predictable.

He’s the kind of guy who remembers to open doors and asks about your day and laughs at all the right moments. He’s nice.

And yet, all I can think about is Marcus.

Marcus, with his sharp mouth and sharper eyes. Marcus, who infuriates me and unsettles me and somehow makes my whole body remember him even when my mind begs it to forget.

Kevin isn’t even in the same solar system.

Still, I need to give him a chance.

That’s what I tell myself as I pick up my purse and walk down the stairs, ignoring the flutter in my chest that doesn’t belong to Kevin at all. I check my phone—no texts. No calls from Marcus. And for some stupid reason, I’m disappointed.

Stop it.

There is a knock on my front door, and I open it to find Kevin right outside, who is giving me his most dazzling smile.

"Wow," he says, eyes sweeping over me. "You look incredible."

I force a smile. "Thank you."

He’s dressed in a navy button-down and dark jeans. Clean. Polished. Handsome in a catalog kind of way. Everything about him is easy, comfortable. And for a moment, I feel guilty for not being more excited.

"I made a reservation at that little Italian place on 9th," Kevin says. "I remember you said you liked their risotto."

I nod, stepping outside and pulling the door closed behind me. "Sounds perfect."

But even as I follow him down the front steps, something feels off. Like I’m walking through a scene someone else scripted.

He holds the car door open for me. I slide in, murmuring another thank-you, and buckle my seatbelt while he circles to the driver’s side.

"You okay?" he asks as he starts the engine. "You seem...distracted."

"I’m fine," I lie. "Just a lot on my mind."

He nods, accepting the answer without prying. And I wish, absurdly, that he would pry. That he’d push, get frustrated, ask questions I didn’t want to answer.

I grip the edge of my dress, trying to anchor myself in the present, but the memory of Marcus’s hands, his voice, his heat—it’s everywhere. In the space beside me. In the scent of my perfume. In the ache beneath my ribs.

I find myself wishing he’d show up.

Which is insane.

The car rolls forward, and I turn my face toward the window, hoping the cold glass will cool the heat in my cheeks.

This night isn’t about Marcus. It’s about Kevin.

So why does it already feel like I’m going the wrong way?

"Those are...um...interesting choices for earrings," Kevin says, looking at my earlobes.

I blink, caught off guard. "What?"

He gestures toward my ears with a slightly confused smile. "Your earrings. They look like...broccoli?"

I reach up instinctively, fingertips brushing the tiny green gemstone florets. A laugh slips from me before I can stop it.

"Yeah," I say. "They are."

Kevin chuckles politely, though the confusion doesn’t quite leave his eyes. "Well, they’re definitely...unique."

I stare out the window again, the laughter gone from my chest.

Kevin reaches for the radio, filling the silence with some light acoustic track I barely register. He’s saying something about the restaurant’s wine list, but it all blurs together under the weight of memory.

What am I even doing here?

My phone buzzes in my purse, and my heart jumps.

Kevin doesn’t notice as I pull it out and glance at the screen.

1 new message — Marcus

"Have fun on your date."

I frown. Is he trying to be passive-aggressive with me right now?

"What’s wrong?" Kevin asks, noticing my sudden stillness.

I look up from the phone. "Nothing."

~-~

The date went well, and Kevin held my hand during the drive back from the restaurant, thumb-tracing slow circles over my knuckles. He walks me to my door, says he had a great time, and hugs me politely.

This is how it’s supposed to be, I think: normal. Sweet. No hot tub jet-fueled confusion or power games or unexpected Tiffany’s deliveries.

I drop my purse and move through the house toward my bedroom.

When I push open my door, my first thought is that some animal has broken in and made a nest in my bed.

Because there is no way Marcus Winters is lying there, half-tangled in my duvet, with a bare leg draped over the side. There is a blanket, but it covers only the necessary territory, and just barely. He’s reading something on his phone with the blue light illuminating the sharp line of his jaw and absolutely nothing else.

I make a sound that’s somewhere between a scream and a lunge for the nearest blunt object.

Marcus looks up, startled, then grins a wide, predatory smile that got me into trouble in the first place. He doesn’t even reach for more coverage.

"About time you got home," he says, as if naked home invasion is a thing people just do.

"Jesus Christ, Marcus!" I slam the door behind me out of reflex and then stand there, clutching the knob to keep from collapsing. "How the hell did you get in here?!"

He shrugs, like my locked home is just another conference room at Luxe. "Your spare key is in the fake rock. That’s the oldest trick in the book, by the way."

"Normal people call first," I hiss, feeling my face go so hot it might combust.

"But you wouldn’t have let me in. I needed to see you." He sits up, but the blanket slips, and I get a very clear view of his navel before I snap my eyes skyward.

"You broke in!" I cross my arms, as if this will hide the fact that I am now deeply and inappropriately invested in the blanket’s ability to stay put.

He swings his legs off the bed and sits on the edge, all lean muscle and calculated nonchalance. "Yes, I did." He says. "That part is obvious."

"Why?" I snap.

His eyes flick up. He gives a lazy, appraising nod. "Payback for you barging into my life."

I want to argue. Instead, I turn away, step into my bathroom, and close the door behind me. I stare at myself in the mirror, trying to get my breathing back to normal. I splash water on my face because there is a man in my bedroom waiting for me.

And he is naked.