Chapter 3: Chasing Him, Stealing Hearts

After that, my attitude toward Marissa did a total 180. I started calling her “little sis” at every possible opportunity.

“Savannah, we’re not even close. Stop calling me that!” she’d grumble, but I just grinned wider.

I dragged her on shopping sprees—clothes, bags, makeup, skincare, jewelry, you name it. When we parted, I loaded her down with bags and beamed. “A little gift from your future sister-in-law.”

“Help me win your brother over, and I’ll treat you to the best food and drinks, anytime you want.”

Marissa looked torn, trying to hand the stuff back. “I’m not selling out my brother!”

So I whipped out VIP concert tickets for her favorite pop star. Instantly, her eyes sparkled, and the last bit of resistance melted away.

“You really are my sister-in-law!”

With Marissa in my corner, I got the scoop on every spot Marcus worked part-time. I showed up everywhere he went, every chance I got.

He’d scowl at me. “What do you want from me?”

“I’m chasing you. Isn’t it obvious?”

He frowned, exasperated. "Look, I’m broke and busy. I don’t have time for your games."

On weekends, Marcus worked at a bar. The first time I walked in, his face went dark as a thundercloud. He yanked me outside. "Go home!"

I refused. “If you agree to be my boyfriend, I’ll listen to you.”

He gritted his teeth, muttered, “Do whatever you want,” and stormed off. But I knew he was keeping an eye on me, even asking his coworkers to watch out for me.

Once, I went to the restroom, and when I came back, Marcus was gone. I was about to go looking when the bar lights dimmed, music cut out, and the crowd erupted as pink and purple spotlights hit the stage.

Five guys in black jeans and crisp white button-downs, their eyes covered by black silk scarves, straddled chairs backward and moved to the beat, hips rolling, bodies lithe and confident.

I spotted Marcus immediately—second from the left. My jaw dropped. Mr. Stoic and Proud was actually doing this kind of dance for cash?

I couldn’t look away as his hands slid up his long neck, fingers tracing lightly down to his chest, slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons to reveal pale, perfect collarbones.

My heart hammered, my cheeks burned. I was probably drooling.

When the music hit its peak, the lead dancer ripped open his shirt, showing off a lean, toned waist. The crowd lost their minds, screaming so loud it rattled my bones.

Thank God the other four didn’t have to strip, or I might have stormed the stage to throw Marcus’s clothes back on him myself.

I had no idea he could dance, or that he was struggling so much for money back then.

After the dance, they played a game. Five audience members were chosen at random to have the lead dancer feed them a lollipop, mouth-to-mouth. Of course, I was the last "lucky" winner.

As I walked to the stage, I could feel Marcus’s eyes burning holes in me. The lead dancer bent down, ready to feed me the lollipop, but Marcus suddenly appeared, yanked me over, and pressed the candy to my lips himself.

I opened my mouth, not even thinking. The sweet and sour hit my tongue. Through the silk over his eyes, I met his gaze in the sea of screaming fans, my heart going wild.

The sugar rush went straight to my head.

After the show, I waited for Marcus at the bar, fending off guys left and right. The next one who tried, I didn’t even look up. “I have a boyfriend, not interested!”

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

“None of your—”

I looked up and froze. Dylan. Of all people.

At that moment, Marcus appeared, back in his regular clothes, sliding between me and Dylan like a human shield.

Dylan glanced at Marcus, then shrugged, eyes back on me. “So, who’s your boyfriend?”

“I am,” Marcus said, voice icy. “Don’t bother her. Beat it.”

Dylan just laughed. “Oh, what a coincidence. I’m her fiancé.”

Perfect. As if this night needed more chaos.