I Took His Pampering and Left Him Behind Chapter 08

After he left my apartment that day, Marcus seemed to switch on some kind of automatic

tracking mode.

No matter where I went I could spot him nearby.

When I visited an art exhibit, he trailed behind me.

Tall as he was, with that cold, unapproachable aura, strangers mistook him for my bodyguard.

I’d watched more than one person try to strike up a conversation with me, only to turn and flee

the second they noticed him.

I finally got a chance to chat with a soft-spoken artist while he stepped away to take a call. The moment Marcus returned, the man made up an excuse and hurried off. I shot Marcus an

angry glare.

He pretended not to notice and spoke calmly.

“You speak the local language?”

“I always have. Minored in it in college and got certified.”

“You keep surprising me, far more than I expected.”

I rolled my eyes. There it was again, that patronizing tone, like he believed everything was still within his grasp.

I stopped walking and turned to face his dark eyes directly.

“Mr. Parker, did your company collapse? Do you really have this much free time to stalk people?”

Instead of growing angry, Marcus lifted one eyebrow slightly.

“I’m courting you, Can’t you tell?”

I laughed, sharp and bitter.

“You call spying courting?”

I took a slow breath, forcing my tone steady.

“Marcus, you handed me away to someone else. *You* told them they could take me. Doesn’t

it feel ridiculous to say this now?”

His eyes darkened. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his voice came out rough.

“Bonnie, I was wrong. Give me a chance to make it right.”

“I don’t want that.” My voice turned cold.

I stepped around him and walked away without a backward glance.

My rejection didn’t drive Marcus off.

He switched to a clumsier, more persistent way of trying to slip back into my life.

He stopped following me everywhere, but “happened” to run into me at my favorite dessert

shop. There was always a slice of strawberry cake waiting at my usual table.

“I tested all their batches. This one has the sweetest strawberry jam.”

I kept reading my book and didn’t look up.

“I don’t like strawberry cake.”

Marcus froze. Back at the mansion, strawberries had vanished faster than anything else.

I saw the confusion on his face.

“That was all part of the act.”

His expression darkened.

“What do you actually like to eat?”

I ticked them off on my fingers.

“Lots of things. Liver and onions, spam, Campbell’s tomato soup…”

None of those were foods a spoiled wife would ever touch.

I’d hoped this list would at least push him away for a while, if not make him give up entirely.

Instead, he started learning how to cook them.

“Bonnie, I followed recipes from back home. Taste this.”

I stared at the plate of braised offal he held out, stunned.

Marcus had always preferred light, simple food and would never touch organ meat. The same hands that signed contracts worth tens of millions had cleaned messy offal for me.

When I hesitated, he picked up a piece with his fork and held it to my mouth, smooth and practiced.

“Open up.”

His coaxing tone was identical to the way he’d fed me before.

Goosebumps crawled over my skin.

“Marcus, stop this. It’s creepy.”

His hand paused. There was a faint, hurt look in his eyes.

“You used to beg me to feed you.”

I reminded him plainly.

“That was fake. I was pretending to depend on you.”

His grip on the fork tightened until his knuckles whitened.

“I know. But i want to get to know the real you.”

I looked at him, a heavy weariness settling over me.

This man was like stubborn taffy I couldn’t shake off. I couldn’t hit him, snap at him, or chase

him away.

The man who commanded absolute obedience in his company had cast aside all his pride, Plinging to me in a way that bordered on desperation

The old spoiled Bone might have softened

But that woman had never been real and I wasn’t her

I had never once fallen for Marcus, not then, not now,