He lifted his arm casually and checked his watch, the silver glinting like it had something to say.
Then he turned those stupidly sharp, annoyingly handsome eyes on me.
"We've been sitting together for over thirty minutes," he said, voice smooth enough to butter toast. "Bumped into each other twice… I think it's appropriate now to ask your name. Let's get to know each other."
He flashed me a smile so charming, I swear I heard a ghostly choir go "aaaaah" in the distance.
Salem snorted.
"Pathetic," my furball familiar mumbled on my lap. "He just wants to get into your skirt. Don't tell him anything. I don't like him."
Of course he didn't.
Marcus raised a brow, amused and obviously flattered—until he shot a side-glare at my cat. Salem just blinked smugly like he owned the train and possibly the underworld.
