Chapter 40

Marc parked his car and Sinead hesitated before getting out. He’d driven them back to his place, which made sense since her car was parked out on the street, but she was feeling nervous and wasn’t sure how to handle it. The weirdest part was that it wasn’t nerves like the first time when she’d known what she was getting into with Marc.

This time it felt even more like an unknown than what she’d been guessing when she thought he was going to just take her to bed and fuck her. He’d proven that he wasn’t just looking for sex - and she knew that she’d been more than a little interested in just sex. Especially that night after staking out Barisha, but that had mostly been the booze talking.

Her hesitation gave Marc the time to cross around the car and open her door for her, and he offered her a hand out.

“Thanks,” she said, feeling his strong hand in hers.

He didn’t respond, and that made the little pit in her stomach grow a bit. Then Marc offered his arm, and she held it as they walked through the underground parking to the elevator in silence except for the sound of her heels on the concrete. Marc thumbed the call button and they waited. Sinead opened her mouth slightly, wanting to say something, but not knowing what to say. She didn’t want to apologise to him, that was for damn sure. And she hated that she felt like maybe she should.

The soft ding of the elevator arriving knocked her out of her own head and Marc led her into the small, enclosed space. Sinead took a breath as she turned to face the door, but Marc thumbed the Close Doors button and then held the Stop button.

“Detective,” he said, his voice deepening a bit back towards that one he’d used in the coat room. “Tonight I thought we were having fun. A beautiful dress, a fancy party, good food and drink. I intended to be a perfect gentleman, and we could have our little adventure. But tonight you acted like a brat.”

“Marc-” Sinead said, her voice firm. She wasn’t some child to be scolded. But as soon as he held up a hand, one finger ordering her to wait, she stopped.

“I’m not interested in having fun with a brat, Detective,” he said. “A brat thinks she’s better than the people around her. A brat thinks she deserves things that she hasn’t earned, and says things that she knows will be hurtful just for the sake of a tiny endorphin hit. Brats have no self-control, no impulse control. I’m not interested in a brat, I’m interested in real, adult women.”

“I’m-” Sinead started, but hesitated again. She did not want to apologise to him.

“Brats also don’t deserve nice gifts,” Marc said. “Not when they can’t behave themselves. So, Sinead, I think you should give me back my gift.”

Sinead frowned. He hadn’t given her anything except the USB drive with the data for her case, and there was no way she was handing that back when she’d already blown him in payment. But looking into his eyes, Sinead realised that wasn’t what he was talking about.