My Boss’s Hidden Heir (Elara and Marcus) novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18

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Marcus drove through the city with Elara passed out in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window.

The sleeping vitamins had knocked her out cold. She hadn’t moved since he’d buckled her in.

He followed the route back to her apartment, the same one he’d taken earlier when he picked her up at eight. But midnight made everything look different. Darker. The streetlights that worked earlier were just broken glass now. Groups of men stood on corners, watching his car roll past. A woman screamed something from a third–floor window.

Marcus pulled up to Elara’s building and cut the engine.

The brownstone looked worse at night. Peeling paint. Barred windows. A front door that hung crooked like someone had kicked it in and never fixed it properly. This was where she’d been living for five years while working for him.

He looked at her. Still asleep. Face relaxed in a way it never was at the office.

He should wake her up. Walk her to the door. Make sure she got inside safely.

But his gut said no.

Not tonight. Not here. Not with those men still standing on the corner watching his car like they were deciding whether it

was worth the trouble.

Marcus put the car back in drive and headed toward his penthouse.

Twenty minutes later he parked in his private garage. Elara still hadn’t moved.

He got out, walked around, and lifted her from the seat. She was lighter than he expected. Her head fell against his chest

and she made a small sound but didn’t wake up.

The elevator ride up was quiet except for her breathing. He carried her through his front door, past the living room with its floor–to–ceiling windows overlooking the city, down the hall to the guest bedroom.

He laid her on the bed. Pulled the covers over her. She mumbled something in her sleep. Turned onto her side. Didn’t

wake up.

Marcus watched her for a second longer than necessary, then left and closed the door.

Morning hit at six AM like it always did.

He was up. In the gym. Lifting until his shoulders burned and his mind cleared. Protein shake after. Cold shower that did

absolutely nothing to wake him up properly.

He threw on a white t–shirt and grey sweatpants, still drying his hair when his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter,

Dante: Dude.

An image loaded below the message. Marcus and Elara from last night. Him carrying her to the car, her heels dangling

from his hand, her head against his shoulder.

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The headline beneath it read: ‘The state’s Most Eligible Bachelor Off The Market? CEO Marcus Thorne Spotted With Mystery Woman.”

Dante: See? I told you my plan would work.

Dante: Nobody knows who she is. They’re guessing models, celebrities, everyone you’ve been with before.

Dante: “Who is Marcus Thorne’s mystery woman?”

Dante: This is PERFECT.

Marcus scrolled through the article. Speculation. Theories. People zooming in on her face trying to figure out if she was

someone famous.

Dante: Also can we talk about the way you’re holding her? Very romantic. Very “I’m in love.” Did you recreate the fire exit

scene last night?

Marcus: Shut up. Your dirty mouth is showing.

Dante: Sends laugh emoji

Dante: But seriously, you can’t announce the engagement today. It’ll look too…..

Marcus: I know.

Dante: Good. Give it a few days. Let people wonder. Build anticipation.

Marcus tossed his phone back on the counter.

A week, Fine. He could wait a week.

Footsteps on the stairs made him look up.

Elara was coming down slowly, one hand on the railing. Her hair was a disaster, black and messy, half falling out of the bun she’d tried to twist it into. She had glasses on. Black frames he’d never seen before.

And she was wearing his t–shirt.

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