Withering Rose

Chapter 3

Marcus P.O.V.

The most breathtaking woman in the world stands before me, wearing nothing but my shirt. God knows how much I want to tear it off her and take her right here and now. Her cheeks flush slightly at my earlier comment, and I can't help but laugh softly to myself. Licking my lips, I force myself to step back, returning to the stove. She's hungry, and I don't want to scare her off. Losing her isn't an option.

The moment I saw her walk into the club, it was like the world around us faded into nothing. Everyone else disappeared, leaving only her in my sight. I've never felt this before—this need to be near someone, to touch them, to claim them. Her curves, her confidence, even her moments of shy hesitation had me captivated.

"Y... you cooked all of this?" she asks, her voice soft and uncertain as she slowly approaches the dining table.

I finish plating the scrambled eggs, perfectly fluffy, and set them down. "Yes. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I made a little bit of everything."

I join her at the table, sitting across from her. She looks at the spread in front of her—pancakes, bacon, toast, eggs, and fruit—like she hasn't eaten in days. There's something so pure, so unpretentious about the way she's sitting there, and it only makes her more beautiful.

"Help yourself, Destiny. I made this for us."

It's like a switch flips in her head. She digs in, devouring everything in her path like it's the first real meal she's had in ages. My jaw drops slightly, but I can't help smiling. Most women I've met try to play a part, acting delicate or reserved to impress me. But not Destiny. She's raw and real, and I'm in awe of her.

With toast in one hand and orange juice in the other, she finally looks up at me, pausing mid-bite. "...Did you want me to leave some for you?" she asks with the most innocent look I've ever seen. God, she's adorable.

I stifle a laugh and shake my head. "No, you're good, princess. Enjoy it."

She raises an eyebrow at the nickname but shrugs and continues eating. Once she's finished, she leans back in her chair, rubbing her stomach with a satisfied smile. I clean up the table and wash the dishes before sitting beside her again.

"I want to get to know you better," I say, my voice calm but serious.

She hesitates for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's fine by me..."

"I want to take you on a date. Not now, of course," I add with a small smile, earning a giggle from her.

"Thank you for taking care of me," she says softly. "I'd love to go on a date with you, but would you mind dropping me off at home?"

"Absolutely, babe," I reply, noticing the faint blush on her cheeks.

I retrieve her freshly cleaned clothes from the laundry room. Once she's changed, I drive her home.

Destiny P.O.V.

The ride home felt unexpectedly comfortable. Marcus told me about his father's business, where he worked, though he didn't say much about his mother. I sensed it was a sensitive subject and decided not to pry. He's an only child, with one close friend—a fact that makes me want to play matchmaker with Stephanie.

When we arrived at my house, we sat in silence for a moment before Marcus broke it with a smile.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at 11:30," he said, his white teeth gleaming.

"Y... yeah! Thank you again," I stammered, unsure of what to do. I awkwardly held out my hand to shake his, but he took it and kissed it instead.

"No problem, babe," he said, his voice smooth and warm.

That word again—babe. It sent a shiver up my spine every time he said it. I hurried out of the car and into the house, only to come face-to-face with a very angry Stephanie.

"Where the HELL have you been, Destiny? I've been worried sick!" she yelled, her face red with frustration.

I tried not to laugh at her over-the-top reaction. "My phone died. I'm sorry," I said as I walked past her to my room.

"That doesn't answer my question, Destiny!" she huffed, folding her arms and blocking the doorway.

"Well..." I hesitated, fumbling with some laundry to avoid her piercing glare. "I spent the night at someone's place."

"SPENT THE NIGHT?" she shrieked, her voice echoing through the house. "Oh, yes, Stephanie, let the whole neighborhood know!" I shot back.

Stephanie's expression shifted to mock seriousness. "So... you had your first one-night stand?"

"Negative. We didn't have sex," I replied bluntly.

Her jaw dropped. "So you're telling me you spent the night with a guy and didn't do anything? Destiny, are you... okay? Do you need to talk? You know I'm here for you."

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Stephanie, he just took care of me. I was intoxicated and couldn't find you."

"...So is he gay?"

"STEPHANIE!" I snapped, glaring at her.

"Kidding, kidding! So, what's he like?" she asked, plopping onto the couch and patting the seat next to her.

I sighed and joined her. "He's smoking hot... and he wants to take me on a date tomorrow."

Stephanie gasped, her face lighting up with excitement. Without a word, she rushed to my closet, pulling out clothes and shoes. Moments later, she laid three outfits on the couch—each one more daring than the last.

"It's time to put my gifts to good use," she said with a smirk, folding her arms like a proud stylist.

I groaned, knowing there was no arguing with her.