The first morning I truly understood I wasn't a guest, I met Marcus.
I padded into the kitchen in one of Theo's shirts and nothing else, hunting coffee. A man the size of a refrigerator leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching the espresso machine like it had personally offended him. Black suit, earpiece, shoulders that could block doorways. When he turned, his dark eyes flicked over me once, clinical, then softened.
"Miss Hart," he said, voice low and amused. "You're shorter than the boss said."
I tugged the shirt hem lower. "And you're...?"
"Marcus Reed. Head of Mr. Valadier's personal security for the last twelve years." He poured perfect espresso into a tiny cup and slid it toward me. "Two sugars, splash of oat milk. He texted the order from the gym."
Of course he did.
Marcus studied me openly now. "You're good for him. He actually slept last night. First time in months."
Heat crawled up my neck. I knew exactly why Theo had slept: because he'd come inside me twice, then kept his cock buried deep while he held me like I was the only thing keeping his heart beating.
Before I could answer, Theo strode in wearing nothing but low-hanging sweats, hair damp, chest still glistening from the shower. The second he saw Marcus talking to me his entire body language shifted: shoulders squared, jaw tight, eyes narrowing.
"Reed," he said, voice edged.
Marcus didn't flinch. "Just making sure your girl doesn't poison herself with the wrong milk, sir."
Theo's arm slid around my waist, pulling me back against his bare chest. Territorial. Possessive. His hand settled low on my stomach, fingers spreading wide over the place our baby grew.
"She's fine," he said, the words directed at Marcus but clearly meant for me.
Marcus's mouth twitched. "Yes, sir. She's very fine." He gave me a small nod. "Welcome to the circus, Miss Hart. If anyone tries to photograph you in that shirt, I'll break their camera. And their fingers."
He left as silently as he'd appeared.
Theo turned me in his arms, backed me against the counter, and caged me there with a hand on either side of my hips.
"Marcus likes you," he muttered, almost accusingly.
"I gathered." I traced the line of hair beneath his navel. "He's terrifying."
"He's loyal." Theo's forehead dropped to mine. "And he just met the only two people I would die for in the same week. He's adjusting."
My heart stuttered.
He noticed. He always noticed.
"I have a meeting downtown," he said quietly. "Come with me."
I started to protest; I had freelance edits, a life, boundaries; but he pressed a finger to my lips.
"Not negotiable. I don't want you alone yet. Not until we have proper protocols."
Protocols. Like I was a head of state instead of a knocked-up editor from Brooklyn.
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not a prisoner, Theo."
"No," he said, voice dropping to that dark velvet register that made my knees weak. "You're the mother of my child. And I just got you back after you almost walked out. Humor me."
He kissed me slow, filthy, until I was gripping his shoulders and rubbing against him like a cat.
When he pulled away I was breathless and wet.
"Wear something I can take off fast," he ordered against my mouth. "Because the second we're home I'm bending you over the nearest surface and reminding you exactly why you're never leaving again."
He left me trembling against the counter.
Marcus was waiting by the private elevator, pretending not to smirk.
I flipped him off behind Theo's back.
Marcus's smirk became a full grin. He winked.
I decided I liked him.
A lot.
By the time the elevator doors closed, Theo's hand was already sliding under my skirt, fingers tracing the edge of my panties.
"Mine," he whispered into my hair.
I leaned back into him and smiled.
Yeah.
I really wasn't going anywhere.