“This is your friend’s house?” I asked Marx as he led me by the hand towards the kitchen where there was a makeshift bar set up on the island.

He glanced at me over his shoulder with a strange expression on his face that I couldn’t read, but he nodded. I didn’t have a chance to question the disquieting look when a tall, reed-thin man with thinning hair stepped in front of Marx, halting our progression.

“Marx, good to see you,” the man boomed over the music playing not too loudly in the background.

“Harrison.” Marx shook the man’s hand, and then in an extremely possessive move, he pulled me into his side with an arm around my waist. “This is Aurora. Aurora, this is Bob Harrison.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” I said and held my hand out to him. Rather than shake it, he brought it to his extremely chapped lips and pressed a wet kiss to my knuckles. Generally, this behavior wouldn’t bother me. With Harrison, it felt wrong.

“She’s a delectable one.” Harrison addressed Marx as if I weren’t in the room even though his eyes were on me.

“Yes. She’s something else,” Marx concurred. His eyes narrowed on the man in front of us and his hand tightened on my waist. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Not giving Harrison a chance to respond, Marx pulled me towards the kitchen where only a few people milled about while talking and making themselves drinks.

“Interesting fella,” I mumbled.

“He’s a prick,” Marx added as we entered the room.

It was a kick-ass kitchen—exactly what I would want if it were mine—with white cabinets, glass subway tile backsplash in aqua, dark granite countertops, and gray slate tiles on the floor. My mouth gaped at the view out of the large window over the white farmhouse sink. The sun had set, which meant all I could see was the moon reflecting off the dark water of the lake and stars twinkling above the trees.

It was breathtaking. And I was kicking myself for not taking Xavier up on his offer to live on Lakeshore Drive—the same street as this magnificent house.

“Beautiful,” I breathed in utter fascination.

“I agree.” Marx’s voice was closer than I expected, so I turned my head towards the sound and found him watching me. My stomach dipped with the knowledge that while I meant the lake view, he meant me.

Before I could react, he pulled me into his arms and brought his head down to mine.

“I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he whispered against my mouth, and then his lips brushed mine sweetly, making me want more. Opening my mouth to him in invitation, his tongue slipped inside, quickly taking me up on the offer. I found myself melting into his embrace as our tongues tangled in a sensual promise.

Sooner than I would have liked, he pulled away and rested his forehead against mine. His breath was like soft puffs of air against my face. He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted before any words formed.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” an ominous voice snarled.

Our heads turned in unison only to be met with a glower from the owner of the aggrieved voice. I swallowed, fear coursing through me, at the castigating expression and lethal energy coming off him in palpable waves. A vein pulsed at his temple, his jaw as hard as the granite on the counters, and his eyes burning with what I imagined was fury. I may have thought I had seen him angry before, but it was nothing compared to how enraged he was right then.

Shit.

“O’Brien.” Marx stood at his full height as he turned to face Xavier, and I insanely thought, What is it with men calling each other by their last names?

With an arm around my waist, Marx pulled me into his body, making it clear that we were together to anyone who might wonder. I wasn’t so sure that was such a smart move given the crackling energy in the air.

“What. The. Fuck. Is. She. Doing. Here.” Xavier’s words were clipped, each one angrier than the last. If smoke suddenly began coming out of his ears, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised.

“I invited her,” Marx unwisely answered. I mean, who the hell purposely steps in the line of a fire-breathing dragon?

“She works for me,” Xavier unnecessarily pointed out. “Does this mean you’re paying for her time?”

The crude insinuation was a slap in the face, even if it was true that Marx could and had paid for my time. Even with it being true, that didn’t mean I wanted it announced to the whole room.

“Fuck you,” Marx said in a low, steady voice, skating the edge of losing control. And damn but it was hot as hell to see his confrontational side.

“Aurora is better than that and you damn well know it,” he continued. “She’s here as my date and this unusual display of possessiveness doesn’t suit you, friend.”

Xavier took a step towards Marx, who subsequently pushed me behind him. It was then I noticed at least a dozen sets of eyes on us.

Fantastic.

Chest to chest, the two men stared one another down. Tension crackled in the air and I found myself wishing I could slink away and pretend this had never happened.

“You dare to stand in my kitchen with my girl and call me a friend?” Xavier drawled in a composed tone, giving off a false sense of tranquility.

My heart stopped when he called me his girl, and I had to force myself to breathe through the conflicting emotions those two words caused inside of me.

“She’s not your girl and you’re being ridiculous,” Marx replied.

“Don’t fool yourself. She is very much mine.”

I couldn’t help it. I let out an exasperated noise at that announcement. Anger quickly edged out any feelings of elation that had started brewing in my mind. He really was delusional and apparently determined to piss me the fuck off.

“Why did you bring her here?” Xavier tried again.

“I told you. She’s my date.” Marx shrugged as if it was no big deal and the whole conversation was beneath him.

“And you thought it was a good idea to bring her here? Now who’s ridiculous?” Xavier raised one condescending brow and crossed his arms.

“Obviously it wasn’t.” Marx ran a hand through his hair in agitation, giving Xavier the reaction he had been going for.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to pull with this little show of yours, Marx. Get the fuck out of my house.” Xavier’s lip curled up into a sneer.

“Fine, but this isn’t over. Let’s go.” Marx pulled me forward with a hand on the small of my back before nudging me towards the door.

“She stays.” Xavier gripped my arm, forcing me to stop moving.

“The hell she does,” Marx returned, and the tension that had begun dissipating quickly returned.

Xavier stood in between us and I sensed the situation deteriorating worse than it already had. Knowing I was—insanely—the reason for all this, I knew I needed to do damage control before the male posturing went too far.

“I’ll stay,” I announced, and Marx’s eyes shot to me.

“Like hell you will,” he semi-repeated his earlier thought on the matter.

“It’s okay. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I assured him.

His brows drew together when he frowned. “You came with me. We were on a date, Aurora.”

“I know,” I whispered sadly. I could tell by the look of disbelief on his face and the incredulity in his tone that I was probably burning the tentative bridge I had built with him.

Marx was sexy, intelligent, a good kisser and an excellent listener. In time, I could see myself caring for him, which made this whole situation suck. Bad.

My defection was nothing that he deserved, and deep down I knew when this night was over I was going to end up regretting it, even if he had asked for it by stupidly—in my opinion—bringing me to a party at Xavier’s house.

“Don’t do this,” he warned.

“I’m sorry, but it’s my job. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I told him again, hoping he would let me.