Grace Unchained

15: Wine And Words

Marcus noted her dripping sarcasm.

"I guess it was pretty cliché," he said. "But I meant well."

They always do, Grace thought, but she nodded.

"I was California," Marcus began, fingering the stem of his wine glass. "The two kids I'm funding at Stanford made a breakthrough on some code that had been giving them trouble. This piece of code, it was sort of the crux of the whole venture, so it was important that we meet about it." Grace nodded again, surprised. He seemed to be almost asking her permission, which seemed impossible. Or not asking her permission, but apologetic—like he'd regretted leaving.

"Anyway, I got there, they showed it to me, I gave them the thumbs up...and then I came home. I thought it would take longer. Normally it would have. I'd have taken them out to dinner and bought them a few bottles of expensive wine. Sort of goes with the territory. But I didn't want to be there, so I left. We got in Sunday morning, early. I told Edward to take me straight to Yasna Group."

"Missed me that much, huh?" Grace quipped.

"Yes, actually," said Marcus, after a beat. He smiled slightly.

Grace had been kidding, of course. She was a prostitute he'd hired. Why would he miss her? She'd been hiding behind a joke, as she was wont to do, but he'd answered seriously. She didn't know what to say.

"I thought, maybe, you'd still be free. That we could pick up where we left off. I've been looking to take some time off."

"Do you know Darius?" Grace asked. Marcus pursed his lips and nodded.

"A little. By reputation, mostly. I've met him once or twice, at parties, including the one when he gave his card. I can't say I ever cared for him, but it seemed like he knew how to run a business. I didn't know that he—I wouldn't give money to a man who treated women like that. I know that sounds...I don't approve, Grace. I just don't approve."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that Marcus Lowell doesn't approve of beating women," Grace said. She couldn't help it. She didn't say it unkindly, but she had to say something.

"See!" said Marcus. "That's why I like you, Grace! Nobody talks to me like that. I swear, the only other person who lets down their guard enough to get snarky with me is my mother."

"So I remind you of your mother?" Grace said, raising an eyebrow.

"What? No, I—" He cut off and laughed. "I'm screwing this all up. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Grace said. "Male privilege is a disability like any other."

Marcus laughed quietly and looked out at the rolling ocean water. He was silent for a few moments. He had a way of revealing himself in unguarded moments like this, as if he wasn't used to being watched or simply didn't care. Grace was struck by how attractive he was: her view might have been a photo in a magazine. His brown hair riffling in the wind, the strong lines of face in profile against the sun setting over the bay...it was almost too much. She couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh or jump him right there.

"So what is this we're looking at? It's not open water," Grace remarked, if only to break the silence.

"Hm? Um, it's Salem Harbor, basically. Or the sound that leads into it. We're looking at Marblehead, across the way there. Roughly south. Grace, I think what I'm trying to say is...I like you."