Eleanor’s pov

We left the open bar and moved to a private booth in the back of the café where the light stayed lower and the seats sat deeper.

Marcus guided me with one hand lightly at the small of my back, the pressure firm enough that I felt every step.

The booth closed us off from the rest of the room and the moment we sat the air between us changed.

His knee brushed mine under the table and stayed there solid and warm.

“Sit up straighter,” he said, his voice dropping into that low commanding tone that made my stomach tighten. “Let me see you.”

I obeyed without...