Fake-Married to My Billionaire Boss

Chapter 50 : Trust

Thursday night

Katelin

I eye the darts in my hand warily.

"It's not rocket science, Kate," Marcus says. "Just throw it."

"What if I hit someone?" I say. "I'm not very good at aiming things." We're at Finlay's. It isn't too packed, as it is a weekday. Still, it's one of the few establishments in the city that stayed open until late at night, so there's still a good number of patrons present. There's no one between me and the dartboard but these things could bounce off a wall and head in some unexpected direction to hit someone's eye. I really am terrible at aiming. Or throwing. Or any sport.

His mouth twists as he tries to suppress a laugh. "If you do, I'll take responsibility. Okay?" He raises his beer bottle as though giving a toast before taking a sip.

"And I have to try to hit the bullseye right?"

He takes his time swallowing. "To start, yeah. Or any of the spaces inside the double ring."

"And which one is the double ring again?"

"I've told you which one it is. Stop stalling."

Busted. I make a face then turn to the dartboard. Taking a deep breath, I take aim and then let the dart loose from my hand.

It flies very slowly, arching downward and falling to the ground before even reaching the board.

"Oh well, I guess I lose," I say, shrugging. "That was fun, we should do it again next time." I pick up the fallen dart and hand it and the other two unused ones to Marcus.

Instead of taking it, he just gives the darts in my outstretched hand an amused glance before smirking at me. "If I'd known you were going to try to be funny tonight, I would have signed you up for the open mic."

I widen my eyes in mock surprise. "There's an open mic?"

He rolls his eyes. "Come on, Berano. Aren't your people supposed to be good at darts?"

"You're thinking of boxing." I glare at him before trudging back to my position a few feet away from the dart board. I shoot him a dirty look before throwing another dart. This one at least reaches the wall — right above the board, where it bounces off before landing on the floor.

As much as I dislike sports, I like failing even less. I grit my teeth and try a third time. This one at least hit the dartboard. I score a fifteen, but not a double. "Now what?" I say.

"Now it's my turn," he says, putting down his beer and getting up from his bar stool.

As much as he comes off as a straight-laced, buttoned-up boring finance guy who loves nothing more than sit behind his desk to stare at dollar figures all day, Marcus has a physicality that's almost mesmerizing. Seeing him using his arms or hands is like watching an artist paint or a dancer go through the motions of a step. Every movement is precise and quietly powerful.

Raul, too, is like that. Except he doesn't hide it behind his businessman persona. Even at the office, he can barely keep still behind his desk for longer than twenty minutes. He's always pacing and moving about, always giving off the vibes of a tiger about to pounce. Watching him move around his enormous office, I could almost see his beautiful brain working. Each turn of thought is a precise, deliberate movement of a clock. Or a dancer's pirouette.

"Kate?"

I blink. "Oh, sorry. What did you say?"I glance at the dartboard and see his three darts stuck on it. Two of them were in the double ring. "Oh."