What are you doing to me, Marcus?
We say very little for the remainder of our flight to Sydney. A glance here, a smile there, and a simple brush of his arm against mine at times. I try to busy myself any way I can and after purchasing a set of earphones from the flight attendant, I settle into my seat.
“We’re about to descend. If you could please secure your seatbelts, we’ll be landing within ten minutes,” is heard through my earpieces.
Marcus’s eyes lock onto mine. “Did you hear that?” he mouths as I remove the earphones.
“Yes.”
“Do you need help this time?”
“No.” I smile.
He grins.
Maybe this week won’t be so bad after all.
His grin is followed by a sexy wink.
Who am I kidding? I’m in all sorts of trouble here.
FIFTEEN
Touchdown
“I hope you enjoyed your flight,” the same air hostess who interrupted us in the restroom says upon my departure.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Have a good day,” she adds cheerfully.
“I will.”
We’re ushered rather quickly from the flight into the airport. Marcus keeps his distance this time, which is probably wise. A long hallway greets us as we move in a pack. Once the hallway ends, I’m instantly lost—the airport is huge. My gut tells me to turn right and take the travelator, but since my gut’s always wrong, I instead turn left down another hallway.
“Where are you going?” Marcus calls, stepping in front of me from out of nowhere.
“I’ve no clue, actually.” I try to gauge some sort of indication as to where I can collect my luggage by concentrating on the large signs in front of me, but they may as well be written in Japanese. Directions clearly are not my thing.
“Come on, you’re coming with me. I can’t have you lost before we even leave the airport, now, can I?” His fingers entwine with mine, and before I know it, I’m being pulled along, and not gracefully either.
“Baggage collection area,” he chortles, slipping me to his side.
“I see.”
“See? That wasn’t hard, now, was it?”
Okay, wise arse. “Hmm.”
Releasing my hand, Marcus bends down and plucks his black suitcase from the conveyor belt. “Yours shouldn’t be far behind mine.”
I wait, watching impatiently for my leopard-print case to make an appearance. It doesn’t. “Um, so where’s my luggage?” I shrug after every last bag has been collected.
He throws his head back, and he laughs.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I think your hex has been out to play, Miss McMillian.”
“Wait. What? Shit. No. It’s missing?”
He throws his head back again, and he laughs harder while trying to nod. Why is this so funny to him?
“Frick.”
“Come on.” He grins, leading me by the hand to God knows where. “Nothing’s changed in all this time.”
“Pardon?”
“Never mind.” His smiling expression turns serious.
After all what time?
The man at the lost luggage and baggage section is a complete arse. Barry, the scrawny dweeb, is absolutely no help whatsoever. He couldn’t have displayed his boredom and distaste for his job any more if he’d tried.
“What’s your contact number? Fill out this form and sign here,” he says miserably.
Once I’ve completed the formalities, I’m informed a call will be made to arrange delivery when the luggage has been located. Every part of me wants to tear Barry a new one, but I manage to stay calm long enough to exit the airport with only my carry-on flung over my shoulder.
“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Marcus taunts.
“Shut up.”
“Looks like we need to go shopping before we check in.” Glancing at a gold watch secured around his wrist, he announces, “Plenty of time.”
“It’s after eight p.m. Nothing will be open.”
“We’re in Sydney … Anything can be opened.”
A black car pulls up to the curb. A shiny silver badge on its boot glints in the light—Porsche Cayenne SUV. Huh. I bet Dad would have loved this one.
Marcus, on the other hand, stares at this particular vehicle like he’s being shown his first-born child for the very first time. I guess this is just another thing we don’t have in common. My dad, would have fallen head over heels in love with this gorgeous car.
He strokes a single finger over the black bonnet, and the smile he’s displaying says, “I’ve missed you.”
“Good evening, Mr Klein, Miss McMillian. Sorry for the delay.” A young, solid man stands in front of me dressed in a tailored black suit.
“It’s okay, Grady,” Marcus replies, facing him before passing over his carry-on and wheeling his suitcase towards him. Grady takes the handle into his freehand.
“We were delayed ourselves. Miss McMillian’s luggage has been misplaced in transit.” He smiles, and I wish to wipe that toothy grin from his face. “We’ll need to go to The Strand Arcade for some essentials. Please organise this immediately.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.” He puts Marcus’s luggage in the boot.
Grady takes two large strides before opening the back door closest to the footpath, his golden-brown eyes looking at me with kindness. “Miss McMillian,” he says before sliding the strap of my carry-on from my shoulder and placing it over his. “May I assist you?”
“Please.”
“In you go. Watch your head.”
Once I’m seated, I glance out the driver’s side window and see the two of them talking. Why can’t I read lips? I’m unable to make out a single word they’re saying, but Marcus seems completely relaxed in this man’s presence. Are they friends?
“You ready?” Marcus mutters as he enters the car, pulling the seatbelt over his chest.
“Yes.”
“Let’s shop.” The corners of his lips arch; he’s pleased. He must love shopping.
Thirty minutes later, we stop in front of what appears to be an old heritage building—a rustic brown brick, maybe five stories high. It’s in darkness apart from a few window lights that highlight clothing displays on the ground floor.
“It’s closed,” I say, irritated. Men! They never listen.
“So it seems.”
“No, it doesn’t seem … It is.”
“We’ll see,” Marcus states smugly just before Grady opens the door.
“Miss McMillian.” Grady’s light blond hair rustles with the breeze as he holds out his hand for me.
“Thank you.”
“Let’s go,” Marcus interrupts excitedly, wrapping his fingers around mine and leading me towards the building.
What do you know that I don’t? The building is bloody lifeless. There are no people anywhere inside or outside. Okay, Mr Magician, why are we here?
Stopping about a metre from what I assume is a closed, locked, and deadbolted door, Marcus shifts to face me. “Before we go in, there are a few things we must discuss.”
“Um. In case you haven’t noticed, the centre is closed.”