when they reached the front door, they both shifted back and she stood there drawing in great gulps of air and feeling the cool air rushing over her sweat-dampened skin.
She thought Marcus would walk inside with her, but instead he just gave her a short, sharp nod, grabbed his clothing and headed over to the workshop, buck naked.
Chapter Nine
Wednesday morning
Eileen walked towards the lobby of the hotel, accompanied by Marcus. She was there to get the rest of her suitcases and check out of her room.
It was Wednesday, and it was a work day for Marcus, but Roman thought they should be together as much as possible so they could pull off the fake mating. Marcus had agreed he’d come to town with Eileen and let everyone see them, then go in to work late.
She’d spent the previous night tossing and turning on his bed while he slept in his workshop. Talk about a dream honeymoon.
He hadn’t been rude or anything, just…monosyllabic. He’d vanished back into himself. It was like those passionate kisses, so full of tenderness and hunger, and that wild, joyous race through the woods had never happened.
They’d joined the rest of the pack for dinner; Verity had showed up briefly, looked disappointed when she saw Marcus spoon-feeding Eileen dessert (because they’d been warned she was coming), and then left.
Eileen braced herself when they walked into her hotel room.
All Marcus did was glance at the mountains of clothing with a resigned shrug. “I’m going to need to build another wardrobe. Or three.”
Then he silently helped her to repack. He was swift and efficient. He loaded everything onto a rolling cart for her, and they headed downstairs without a word.
As they walked through the lobby, Marcus grabbed her hand and held it, and she felt warmth sizzle through her body. For a brief moment, Eileen actually thought he was showing her affection – then she saw who was walking into the hotel.
Eileen stopped dead in her tracks.
Her father, her personal assistant, Marisol, and her stylist, Ambrose, stood there with two of her father’s bodyguards. Verity was with them, with that perpetual frown pinching her brows. As ever, Marisol was a combination of business and style, in a pink tweed Chanel suit and pink pumps. Ambrose had sky-blue hair and wore a blue raw silk suit with a matching pocket square. He tried to hide the dismay on his face as he looked Eileen up and down.
“Well, this is quite the welcoming committee,” Eileen said, trying not to sound nervous. She felt a little braver with Marcus standing next to her.
Her father gave Marcus a startled glance. He had to tip his head back to do it. From the way he looked at Marcus’ faded denim jeans, construction boots and leather jacket, he wasn’t impressed.
“This can’t be your husband,” he said indignantly.
“And yet, it is.” She gave him a tight smile and patted Marcus’ arm. “Isn’t he dreamy?”
“You are already promised to Beacham.”
Marcus let out a growl of anger.
“Kindly show my mate some respect,” she said with genuine annoyance. Even if Marcus was her fake mate, her father couldn’t stand there and diss him like that.
“You married someone you met yesterday?” His voice was heavy with skepticism.
“We met a while ago. He’s the real reason I came to Silver Peak.” She smiled sweetly.
“Try again,” her father sneered, and instantly she felt like a little girl again – a stupid, clumsy little girl.
A rumbling snarl brought them all up short.
“Call my mate a liar one more time. Go ahead,” Marcus said, eyes flashing dangerously. Wow, if she hadn’t known better she’d have thought he actually cared about her. She knew it was fake, but it still felt good. He wouldn’t let anyone put her down or make her feel small and terrible – for as long as their charade lasted, anyway.
Both of her father’s bodyguards stepped forward, growling, shoulders hunched.
Marcus stepped in front of Eileen.
They were