Mark (Next Generation Carter Brother #9)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Freya

My heart races and sweat trickles down my back as I stand in my place on the left-hand side of the aisle. I avoid Danny’s gaze and focus on Mark, who has moved from the bride’s side to the groom’s, causing quite a fuss with Danny’s uncles. He says something to them, giving them both a hard look, which has them moving down to make room for him. My heart flutters at the sweet gesture. He’s done it so I can focus on him, which I do, giving him a tight smile in thanks.

Esther did incredible with the details. The white runner between the aisles has the same orange petals as her bouquet scattered across it. Dried flowers are tied to the edge of the chairs, and the arch over the platform they will stand on is decorated the same. Everything is perfect, just like she wanted.

My cousin and Diana walk down next, both of them smiling at Danny. Neither smile at me as they take their place next to me. I expected it from Diana; she’s never liked me. My cousin, on the other hand, her reaction hurts. Once upon a time, we were close friends. Now she’s taken a side, a side Esther probably forced her to take like she has with so many others.

The music changes as my mum takes her seat next to the empty chair reserved for Dad. My attention is pulled to the limo, where Esther now stands, beaming from ear to ear as she links her arm through our dad’s.

No matter what has transpired between us, she is still my sister, and I’m happy for her. I smile as she elegantly makes her way down the aisle. She glows as she smiles at her guests, but once she locks gazes with Danny, her smile is wider and only for him. The love shining there is so bright, I can’t begrudge her for it. I might not like that her love is for a boy I once loved, or like how they got together, but I’d be just as bad as she is if I held those things against her, like she holds it against me.

She shoves her bouquet at me, taking me off guard for a moment. Mark grits his teeth at the move, and as the ceremony begins, he never once looks away.

I hold his gaze, needing it, wanting it. It anchors me as the ceremony continues.

When the vows begin, I lose my focus, because those words...

I’ve heard those words before.

“I will love you when I am old. And make you proud every day. I will be your lover forever. And more, I’ll be your best friend. I will always be your soulmate. And my love will be eternal. I will never keep any secrets. And I promise to never lie. I will vow that this is the beginning. And vow we never part. I love you, Esther, for now and always,” Danny reads, and my heart freezes.

A block of ice encases my heart, because that poem was not his to share.

That poem was mine.

It was a poem about us. A poem from me to him when I was at university. He’s picked out parts from the poem, but the words are still mine. I’d recognise them anywhere.

Mark watches me intently, but I look away, turning to my mum. Her gaze meets mine, her lips drawn tight.

She knows.

She knows because I read it to her before submitting it.

“Danny, you have been my best friend for what feels like forever and I knew this day would always come. With our friends and family here supporting us, I vow to choose you like you’ve always chosen me. I am proud to become your wife, to join our lives together. When I am with you, you make me feel like a better person. You complete me in a way no one else ever has,” Esther declares, her emotions clear in the break in her voice. “With you, I have found love. In your arms, I have found a home. In your eyes, I see our future. Thank you for loving me, for choosing me to spend the rest of your life with you. I love you, Danny. For now and always.”

As the officiator declares them man and wife, I can’t move. I can’t smile for the newlywed couple. And it takes everything in me not to rake my nails down his face. Something I should have done the evening they declared they were together.

How dare he use my poem like this.

A red haze blurs my vision, and before I can gather my bearings, Mark is there, taking my hands in his.

He runs the palm of his hand along my jaw, leaning in. “Don’t break now,” he whispers, and slowly pulls me away from the gathering crowd.

“Honey, I didn’t know,” Mum explains, making me jerk.

“Know what?” Nanna asks. “Why do you look like someone killed that cat of yours? Please tell me this isn’t about Danny.”

“Not now, Mum,” Dad pleads.

I turn to where Mum stands, her expression blank, but her eyes are filled with sadness. “Those words weren’t his to share,” I rasp, feeling the ice around my heart begin to melt. They weren’t inspirational and didn’t win awards, but they were mine. Anger begins to boil below the surface. I’ve dealt with them being together. I’ve stood and smiled whilst they got married. I was able to do it because I don’t harbour feelings for him. What we had is gone. But those words are a reminder of what I did feel. They were personal. Ours. Not meant to be shared as a vow to my sister. It’s messed up.

“Words?” Mark asks.

I meet his gaze. “The poem he read was mine. I wrote it for an English essay. I wrote it thinking of him.”

“That slimy ball bag,” Nanna growls. “I hope Esther is okay with being a widow.”

“Maybe he doesn’t realise. Maybe they were just in the back of his mind,” Mum offers. “She can’t know it was your poem he read.”

“Yes, because doing something to Esther would be a tragedy. She made multiple digs towards Freya during her entire speech,” Mark mutters, pulling me close. “We are going to meet you back on the boat.”

“We still have photos to take,” Mum argues.

I lean into his touch, absorbing his strength.

“Do you really think she’ll be able to stand and smile for a camera when she’s so on edge? You don’t want her breaking her composure right now. Trust me. Because it will be Freya who gets the blame.”

“Well, I don’t have a problem getting the blame,” Nanna states sharply.

“Go, Freya. You too, Mum,” Dad orders. “I’ll make up an excuse for why you had to leave early.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, and let Mark pull me away.

“Are you okay?” he asks when we are away from the crowd and it’s just us and my nan.

“No,” I rasp, but then let out a dry laugh. “That was more embarrassing than the fucking bridesmaid dress.”

“Why? Your dress is hot, my girl,” Nanna declares.

Mark leans over to see her. “No. She means the actual bridesmaid dress. It was ugly as fuck.”

“They looked fine to me,” she replies, glancing back to where they are all congratulating the newlyweds.

“Mine had sleeves,” I explain.

“Trust me. It belonged in a Halloween shop,” Mark announces.

I snort. “I said the same thing.”

“You must have really loved him to write a poem like that,” Mark states, his voice drifting off.

“Love was the topic. It could have been about a broken heart or even a beloved pet. I chose to write about Danny because at the time, I thought we were forever. We had been friends since we were fourteen. We got together in sixth-form. I was in love.” I shrug, like it’s meaningless, but at the time it meant everything. He meant everything. “I’m not anymore. I haven’t been for a long time. And honestly, even if he had never got with my sister or broke up with me, I don’t think we’d still be together. We’re two different people, and as I moved up in my career, we would have clashed.”

Nanna snorts. “My Freya doesn’t do second chances. She was broken hearted over the break up but she would never have begged for him back. And definitely not after he was unfaithful. In her eyes, if someone can take your man, he’s theirs to keep. She doesn’t want him.”

“Too right,” I confirm.

“I’m so confused,” Mark announces, and he sounds it.

My lips twitch. “I’m not upset that he married my sister, if that’s what you are wondering. It’s that he used a poem I wrote for his vows. They were my words. My feelings. He had no right to repeat them. Not to Esther. Not as a vow. It’s not fair to her or to me.”

“So you aren’t upset?”

“I’m angry if that counts as being upset. I’m angry because during all of this, I’ve never hated them. I’ve never taken my anger out on them even though I really wanted to in the beginning. All our arguments have stemmed from me standing up for myself. No one else would, and it began to take a toll on me. Danny is not even a chapter in my life for me to look back on. When I erased him from my life, all our memories were erased too.”

“She’s good at compartmentalising,” Nanna declares.

I let out a breath. “He dredged up old memories, whether purposely or unconsciously. I’m not okay with that. It’s like both of them want a reaction out of me so they keep pushing.”

“It seems to me you do react. It’s just not the reaction they are hoping for. It’s probably why your sister keeps pushing you. Cheating is only fun when it’s forbidden. It’s no longer forbidden for them. I will bet money on the fact he knew where that poem came from and he was hoping to play mind games with you. I see the way he looks at you.”

I shrug. “Cheat often?”

He narrows his eyes at that. “Cheating is for the weak. And I can assure you, I don’t need to cheat to spice things up in the bedroom.”

My cheeks flame at the tone in his voice. It shoots right down to my clit and I have to clench my thighs.

“I’m sure she could handle anything you throw at her,” Nanna muses, and I jerk from the pull he has me under to glare at her.

“Nanna!”

She holds her hands up. “I’m just saying.”

We reach the cart, and as Mark helps Nanna into the front seat next to the driver, I climb onto the back, taking my seat.

I don’t want to think about what he does to spice things up in the bedroom. I won’t let my mind go there.

I won’t.

Damn, it’s already there .

*** *** ***

Now that dinner is finally out of the way, and the speeches have been made, the lights are dimmed and the DJ begins his set for the night.

“When will the food be brought out?” Mark asks as we walk over to the bar that runs along the entire back wall.

“I think they have something being put out a little later. Why? You’ve just eaten,” I remind him.

His brows pinch together. “That wasn’t the starter?”

I laugh as he orders our drinks. “Dude, it was a five-course meal.”

“A five-course meal? It was more like snacks. I thought it was, like, appetisers or something.”

I laugh harder. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Babe, I know my food. That was not a meal,” he scoffs, leaning against the bar.

“They’ll be bringing out more later. Don’t worry,” I assure him, patting his arm.

“You promise?” he asks, and those eyes... I bet he got away with a lot with those puppy dog eyes as a teenager.

My lips twitch. “I promise.”

“Freya! Freya!”

“What the fuck does she want?” Mark growls.

My sister hasn’t made a friend in Mark at all tonight. Her speech was just more of a dig towards me. He doesn’t realise I’m not at all bothered by it, but watching him get overprotective is pretty cute. If this is how she wants to begin her marriage, it’s no skin off my nose. She’s put so much effort into making sure I know where my place is, she’s forgot where hers is. Which is next to her husband. But Mark’s dislike grew when she made a joke, asking him how much I paid him to attend the wedding as my date. Like I couldn’t get my own. I didn’t tell her we were both blackmailed and forced into it. I’m worried he’ll leave once the gig is up, especially now people are out of their seats and can approach me.

“It’s her wedding,” I remind him and turn to my sister, who is linking arms with her husband. I paste on a smile. “Everything okay?”

“We need photos with you. You ran out to make sure the room was ready before we could get some with you on the beach.”

I glance around. “Where are the other bridesmaids then?” I ask. “Shouldn’t they be here for the photos?”

Esther waves me off. “We’ve got enough group photos. We wanted to get some of us three together.”

Mark coughs on the swig of beer he takes, his eyes bugging out. “Seriously?”

“She’s my sister,” Esther points out snottily. “So, are you ready? We thought we could get some in here and then some upstairs on deck.”

Mark snakes his arm around my waist. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do them here, and quickly, because me and Freya have plans.”

“Plans?” Esther questions. “But it’s my wedding.”

“And at every wedding, there’s dirty, slutty wedding sex. Didn’t you know?” he questions.

I jab him in the stomach subtly. “I’ll take some pictures with you,” I agree, not wanting to start an argument.

“Let’s go over to the backdrop,” Esther orders.

She doesn’t give me a chance to agree; she just makes her way over, expecting me to follow. Mark quickly grabs my drink off the bar before we make our way over.

“Blink three times if you want an out,” he whispers as we reach where they have a backdrop set up. It’s plain white with a balloon and flower arch.

Esther and Danny stand in front of it, leaving the space between them open. “You want me in the middle?” I gulp.

“Yes. Come,” she demands.

I do, my entire body tensing as she wraps her arm around me. I smile tightly when the photographer asks us to move closer together. When Danny’s hand wraps around my waist, I blink three times fast. I don’t want him near me, let alone touching me. Just being near him makes my skin boil.

“That’s enough monopolising my date,” Mark declares, taking my hand and pulling me against his chest.

“We aren’t done,” Esther grits out.

“Yes, you are,” he replies, his tone giving no room for argument. “Congratulations on your nuptials. Your poem was quite moving, Danny. Where did you find it? My sister is getting married soon and I’m looking for a poem for my speech.”

Esther beams as she moves in closer. “Danny wrote it for me. I found it in his flat, and he got all flustered when he said they were his vows. Aren’t they sweet?”

I grit my teeth as I pinch Mark’s back. Or try to. There’s no fat on his body. It’s all muscle. “They were beautiful.”

“They sounded very feminine. Almost like a girl wrote it,” Mark continues, pointedly looking at Danny, who can’t meet my gaze. “Did someone help you?”

“It all came from the heart. Didn’t it, Danny?” Esther probes.

Danny rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. Yeah, it did.”

Esther’s attention is pulled away from the conversation and her lip curls in a snarl. “What are they doing here?” Esther bites out.

I turn to the back entrance near the bar. The Carters and their partners are making their way inside. Following my nan. Some of them are dressed up, whilst others are still in shorts and tank tops.

“Nan must have invited them to join,” I muse, waving at Teagan, Mark’s mum.

“It’s my wedding. I don’t want riff-raff here. It’s a classy wedding. Not something thrown by a group of people who live off an estate.”

Mark tenses beside me. “I would watch how you address my family. To me and to them. We don’t take insults lightly, so I would be careful if you don’t want to find yourself in certain situations.”

“Mate, back off. It’s a private party,” Danny argues, brushing his fingers through his brown hair. His green eyes shine with rage, and I snort. I might not know Mark, but I do know Danny, and my nanna could take him in a fight.

“I’m not your mate. She hasn’t hired the boat, nor is there a sign to say it’s a private party. Either way, Maya clearly invited them,” Mark bites out before glaring at Esther. “My family are not riff-raff. We all work hard for what we have, which, by the way, is what most people call an empire. And just so you know, living on an estate would be better than the high horse you live on.”

He pulls me away and I grimace at the tightness in his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“Your sister is a bitch,” he growls. “It’s a shock you didn’t turn out the same.”

“Pretty sure you called me a bitch on the plane,” I point out.

His gaze locks on mine, holding me in those intense hazel-coloured eyes. Every single time he looks at me like this, I feel it down to my toes. “That was before I knew you.”

“You don’t know me now,” I point out.

He smirks, and after taking my drink and depositing it, along with his, onto an empty table, he pulls me onto the dance floor. He wraps his arms around my waist. “No? You are loyal to those who have never earned your loyalty. You are faithful to a fault. You would rather people cut into your soul than be the one who does it to someone else. You love your family, even though they test you. And you idolise your nan. You act like your family’s digs and comments don’t bother you, but your nose scrunches up in a tell, like you are holding back tears. And … You know your cat broke into my home but you are too stubborn to admit it.”

I narrow my gaze. “ You stole my cat.”

He leans his head back, but his smirk is still in place when he meets my gaze again. “Lies,” he whispers. “You are also grateful for my company but will never admit it.”

I sniff, lifting my head straight. “I’m not ungrateful .”

“You love that you have me here to step in because you are afraid that if you say something to your sister, you’ll never fix your relationship.”

Now he’s just being annoying.

Because he’s right.

“You still don’t know everything about me,” I rasp as he presses his hand to the small of my back.

“I will,” he promises, his tone alluring and sure.

I tilt my head to the side. “And why is that? You did everything to avoid me before this trip and now I can’t seem to get rid of you. And believe me, I’ve tried.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth. “I know. Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to run off when we got back to the boat earlier.”

“Stop avoiding my question,” I warn.

My lips part as he brings my body flush against his. “Maybe I’m beginning to realise there is more to you than the neighbour who tries to break into my home.”

I arch a brow. “If you think I’ll be your holiday fling, you are very much mistaken. It takes a lot more than charm to get into my bed.”

The truth is, I don’t think it will take much. Something changed between us. Whether it was when he helped me carry my nan back to her cabin, or whether it was when he spoke to me on the sun lounger, something shifted. I just know as badly as he annoys me, there’s an undeniable attraction between us, one I loathe but love at the same time.

He clucks his tongue. “You have a dirty mind, Freya.” He stops swaying to the music, and with one hand on my lower back, the other presses against the nape of my neck. “You are infuriating. You don’t demand my attention yet you have it. You intrigue me. Just when I think I have you all figured out, you do something that takes me by surprise.”

I gulp. I should put space between us, take a step back, yet I drift closer, like a moth to a flame. “And when you lose interest?” I question.

He smirks, and I wish he would stop it. It’s more appealing than his smile. It’s devilish, sinful and full of promise.

“Who says I will?” he fires back.

“Every man loses interest at some point.”

He tilts his head down, his lips a breath away, hovering just a little out of reach. I close my eyes, anticipating, wanting. But when they don’t come, my lashes flutter open. I swallow at the smouldering gaze aimed at me. My toes curl, my breath hitches, and my lips suddenly become dry.

“I’m not just any man. I’m a Carter,” he states, and tingles shoot down my spine at the subtle warning there.

I watch him walk away, feeling lost and confused.

Why didn’t he kiss me?

Why did he walk away?

And what did he mean when he said he was a Carter?