I laugh, kissing her cheek. “No thank you, Ellie.”

I hug Mom and she gives me an easy smile. “Have fun. Take your time.”

I wave to the two, and head outside. There’s a dark Audi sitting in the drive. I can’t see inside it, but I know it belongs to Marcus. Swallowing, I walk over and open the door. I gasp with pleasure as my eyes take in the gorgeous man in the front seat. He’s wearing a pair of black dress pants with a white, button-up shirt. Instead of a tie and jacket, he’s wearing a vest. The shirt is rolled to his elbows and he looks like, well, heaven dipped in hell.

“Marcus,” I say, breathily.

Way to go, Katia.

“Katia,” he says, his voice low and husky.

Damn.

I slide into the car, the cool leather chair brushing against my thighs. My black dress is short, but not slutty. It’s low cut, showing enough cleavage to be sexy but classy. I matched it with a pair of black pumps, and left my hair down in light curls.

I close the door and turn to Marcus, and the looks he is giving me are scorching. He doesn’t need to use words—his expression is telling me exactly what he wants to do to me.

“So,” I breathe, “what’s for dinner?”

His lip twitches.

Dirty bastard.

“Don’t answer that,” I say.

“Tonight,” he murmurs, dropping his eyes to my lips. “You look devastating.”

Oh. Wow.

“Oh, thanks.”

With that, he turns back and drives us to dinner.

CHAPTER 11

NOW

Katia

I bang on the door over and over, my fingers trembling. I close my eyes, trying to gather myself. I’m hurt; Marcus went away for two weeks and then came home and simply dismissed me. Did he miss me at all? Was there one moment he thought about me and longed to be at home in my arms?

My heart aches—it aches because something deep down in my chest is tugging at me, telling me I’m missing something. I just don’t understand. Marcus could have any woman he wanted at the click of his fingers, make no mistake, so why pick me and then marry me, if he doesn’t care?

“Sweetheart.”

I jerk my head up and see my mom sitting in her chair at the door.

“Momma,” I whisper.

“Oh Katia, come in, sweet.”

I rush in, leaning down and throwing my arms around her neck. She holds me tight and then we both head into the kitchen.

“You look awful. What’s happening?”

“It’s Marcus,” I say, sitting at the kitchen table, dropping my head into my hands.

“Have you two had a fight?”

I sigh, then lift my gaze and look at her. I go over everything that’s happened with Marcus and she listens, her eyes soft. She nods every now and then, but says nothing until I’m done.

“I just don’t know what to feel,” I admit.

“Honey, maybe there’s more to it. Maybe something bad happened? Maybe he’s stressed.”

“It’s not just this once, Mom.”

“Is he bad to you, honey?”

“No,” I say, and it’s the truth. He isn’t bad to me; he’s just not loving either. “I just don’t feel like he loves me, which makes no sense because he married me.”

“Let me tell you a little something I’ve learned about men like Marcus,” she begins. “Men like him struggle with emotion. They’re broody and angry because of their lives and how things turned out for them. They struggle to show love, and sometimes seem cold to keep control.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I understand—I just don’t know what could have gone down in his world that would make him so closed off.”

“Do you love him, Katia?”

“More than I should.”

“Then stand by him. Talk to him; see if you can get him to tell you why he pulls back. It can take time, but you’re a good girl, Katia. If he loves you, he’s going to come around. Marriage can be hard—you just have to find a way to fight the battles.”

I smile, because I know she’s right. I lean forward and hug her again. “Thanks for listening, Mom.”

“Any time, sweetheart. Don’t give up on him, okay?”

“Okay, Mom.”

I spend the next two hours with her, and after three coffees and two chocolate-chip cookies, I head home, ready to face this head on. Ready to push my doubts down. Ready to make myself believe that I’m not crazy, and Marcus really does love me.

~*~*~*~

The smell of garlic and tomato hits me the moment I step through the front door. Yum. I walk towards the kitchen and stop when I see Marcus sitting at the counter, fork twirling in some pasta.

“Where have you been?” he asks, without turning.

My chest seizes. I want to believe my mom is right, I want to push and fight for this man I love so dearly, but when he talks to me in that tone, with that voice, it’s so hard to believe there’s any hope.

“I went to see Mom.”

“How is she?”

“Fine.”

He turns and stares at me, God he looks tired. He nods his head towards the spaghetti that’s still sitting, mixed with sauce in the pan.

“You made this?” I ask, walking in and lifting a bowl.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you cooked.”

His eyes flash to mine. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Katia.”