Chapter 84

Theodore didn't waste another breath. He simply dropped to a crouch right there in front of Marissa.

They were practically nose-to-knee, close enough that his warm breath kept grazing her leg everySo often.

Marissa couldn't pin down whether the air conditioning in the hall was running on fumes or if she was just getting flustered, but her ears were turning a telltale shade of pink.

When she instinctively tried to take a step back,she felt the warmth of his fingertips brush against her ankle. His voice came out a touch rough around the edges."It's red."

Marissa had already told him it was no big deal. She found herself backed into a corner-she couldn't very well turn him down again. She hesitated mid-step as she retreated, then went still. Her thoughts were running in circles, and she barely registered what had come out of his mouth, her eyes settling on his hair instead.

She'd been staring at Theodore long enough to make it look like she was about to say something.

Theodore seemed to have mumbled something,then stopped short, pulling his gaze away from her ankle to look up at her instead.

Her right heel had taken a beating from her new high heels, rubbed raw and angry, while her left heel was only showing a bit of redness-nothing that broke through the skin.

Marissa's skin was paper-thin, and she felt pain like nobody's business. What would barely register as a twinge for most people hit her like a freight train.

Back in the day, she'd sat on the fence for over half a year before finally pulling the trigger on going to the beauty salon to erase the burn scar on her hand.

In the end, it was a stupid move-all it did was hand Evelina the credit for taking care of Bryson.

The thought of Bryson brought a wave of disappointment crashing over Marissa, though if she was being honest, she'd seen it coming from a mile away.

That man had a real talent for spinning her fairy tales,each one more far-fetched than the last.

"Come again?" Marissa was off in her own world,looking for all the world like she was hanging on Theodore's every word, though her mind was a million miles away.

When she came back down to earth, her hands were planted on Theodore's head, and his carefully styled hair was now a disaster zone thanks to her wandering fingers.

Theodore stayed put in his crouch, letting her have her way with him.

Her hands froze, and she glanced down at Theodore,then at her own hands-which had clearly overstepped-and felt completely thrown for a loop.

If she played it off like her hands had a mind of their own and she bore no responsibility whatsoever,would Theodore buy it?

"Um, what were you saying just now?" Marissa asked, tripping over her words as she tried to slip her hands back without drawing attention. She hadn't counted on his hair being so soft and downright pleasant to run her fingers through.

The corner of her mouth twitched upward in quiet satisfaction at the feel of it. But then reality kicked in -she couldn't keep indulging-and her expression took a nosedive for just a moment, betraying a flicker of regret at having to stop.

"Do you enjoy it?" Theodore's voice drifted into her ear.

He stayed in his crouch, looking completely at ease,his hand resting casually on the sofa right beside Marissa's thigh-basically camping out in her personal bubble. Marissa didn't catch his teasing tone. She figured Theodore was taking a jab at her.

Not about to let herself look like the one who blinked first under his somewhat loaded stare, she boldly reached out again, her slender fingers weaving through his soft hair and giving it another good muss.

The more she went at it, the more her expression evened out, eventually settling into a look of complete nonchalance-as if she saw no wrong in her actions whatsoever.

Theodore made no move to stop her, his silence a quiet acceptance of her touch.

He dipped his head slightly, playing the part of a loyal knight kneeling before his queen.

"I do enjoy it." Marissa let out a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling as they caught his striking face.

"Glad to know that," Theodore replied, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, his tone filled with sincerity.Right then, Wilbur stood about a meter off, his voice carrying a note of seriousness. "Mr. Brooks, the internet's gone wild with gossip about Miss Curtis and her brother. Reporters are swarming like bees,and the makeup studio entrance is completely gridlocked. The police are working on clearing a path -it should take about ten minutes."

The original plan had Marc picking her up himself.But once word of the online rumors reached Theodore's ears, he bumped a meeting to come get Marissa in person.

When they'd left the company, things hadn't blown up to this degree yet, and there was no tale of Marissa clocking Evelina out of jealousy and landing her in the hospital.

Yet somehow, in a flat forty minutes, these stories had rocketed into the top three trending topics.

It was crystal clear someone was pulling strings behind the curtain to paint a target on Marissa's back. Back when it first hit, this whole mess had kicked up quite the storm, with ridiculous titles like "Sisters Go Head-to-Head Over the Same Man" climbing the trending charts.

With a fiancé as exceptional as Theodore in her corner, how could Marissa possibly have eyes for Bryson?

In Wilbur's eyes, Bryson had no redeeming qualities.

Though Wilbur's face was a blank slate, his mind was running a marathon.

At the revelation, Marissa pulled her hand back,shifting slightly to fish her phone out of her handbag.

Hearing all this, Theodore rose to his feet without missing a beat, running a hand through his hair to put it back in order.

He shot a glance at Wilbur, not remotely fazed about being caught with Marissa's fingers tangled in his hair. Cool as a cucumber, he directed, "Have someone bring over a pair of flats." Theodore was finally learning to care for his fiancée!

Wilbur felt a surge of excitement, barely keeping a lid on his shock as he responded promptly, "Will do."

"If they're killing you, don't wear them. No sense in putting yourself through the wringer," Theodore said,turning his attention back to Marissa.

When they'd crossed paths before, her shoes-though high-heeled-weren't stilettos and didn't look like they were giving her such grief.

Marissa had no clue what was running through his head. If she had, she would've set the record straight that her wedding shoes were custom-made by a friend.