Mark wasn't entirely sure where they were going. All he knew was that they had been walking for about half an hour, their pace steady as the sidewalks emptied out and they moved away from Manhattan and towards Tribeca. Mark knew that he would have to make his own way back home at some point and he was in Brooklyn. He knew that he would probably be walking for quite some time.
"So how often do you play concerts?" Mark wondered from her, enjoying the feeling of her arm in his as she walked by his side. He was at least a foot taller than her, even when she was wearing her heels. He often looked down to her, his eyes glancing over her figure and drinking her in. She would steal looks up to him too, finding herself completely entranced by his bright blue eyes.
"About three times a week. I tutor the other nights and try to take Friday night off at least," she said to him. "It doesn't pay too well, but I don't know what else I would do really. There's something about playing that I find soothing…and then the look on kids' faces when they finally master a piece…I just like that. I like it because it makes me remember how I felt when I was learning."
"You really are amazing," Mark said to her and she lowered her gaze, a smile forming on her face and cheeks reddening again. He stood on the side of the pavement, waiting to cross as cars drove by them. "Janet also happened to mention that you went to Julliard. That's impressive."
"Not really," Verity replied with a shake of her head and he sensed that she was modest. That was something he noticed in people. Those who were actually good at things never boasted about it. She was that kind of girl and he could see that. But she had no need to be modest. "I mean, I guess my parents helped get me in. My father just so happens to know the dean."
"I doubt that was it," Mark said to her and Verity glanced to him as they started to cross the road and he noted her slowing pace, almost as if her shoes were hurting. He doubted she intended on walking home that night in them judging by how long they had been walking for. "Reputation and connection can only get you so far. You do need talent to get as far as you've got. You know, I meet quite a lot of people…arrested quite a few who have parents with connections…being rich doesn't mean you always get away with things."
"I guess not," Verity said to him. "So how long have you been an officer?"
"About two years. I joined straight out of school and eventually settled here."
"You didn't want to go to college?"
"It wasn't for me," Mark said with a shake of his head. "I wanted to start earning my own money as soon as possible and find my own place…being a cop…I always thought that it sounded interesting and I enjoy it. The stakeouts and night shifts can be a killer, but it's the nature of the job."
"And how do your parents feel about you being an officer? I imagine they worry constantly," Verity said and Mark took his turn to glance down at his feet. A sad smile formed on his face and a moment of silence stretched over them. Verity turned her glance over to him and they rounded the corner, Mark's arm tightening in hers as they faced a gaggle of party goers who walked around them.
He waited until they had gone before he spoke, their whoops and cheers dying down. "My parents died when I was a kid," he said to her and Verity cursed in her head.
"I am so sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to…I didn't think…"
"It's alright," Mark promised her with a shake of his head. "I was six and I didn't even know them…not really. It was a car crash. They were bringing my sister home from the hospital and a drunk driver drove straight into them…both of them died instantly."
"Christ, I am so sorry to hear that," Verity whispered and Mark thought about how she was one of few who knew that. He hadn't even told the people he worked with about his history. He didn't like thinking about it or talking about it. He also didn't like the pity on people's faces when they gave him their condolences. He never felt it was genuine. But there was something different about Verity. Her voice was so warm. He noticed the way she pressed closer to him too, almost like she was trying to comfort him.
"I don't really remember them," Mark said with a shake of his head. "It's Angelina, my sister, who I feel for. She never got to meet them and then…when we were growing up…I just couldn't tell her about them because I didn't really know anything."
"I can't imagine," Verity said with a soft sigh. "That must have been horrible."
Mark shrugged. "I told Angelina what I could and I think in the end she stopped asking. My aunt raised us and Angelina is still living with her…she's sixteen and just finishing high school."
"Do you see her often?"
"As often as I can," Mark said with a nod of his head. "My aunt isn't the most maternal of women. I think Angelina struggles sometimes…I think she longs for a maternal influence…someone to talk to about things she doesn't want to talk about with me."
"I get that," Verity assured him.
"And you?" Mark asked. "I get the feeling that you don't entirely get along with your parents."
Verity sensed he longed to change the topic and she was willing to do that. She nodded once and Mark lifted his free hand up to push his fingers through his hair. He tucked some loose strands behind his ear before scratching his nose.
"It makes me feel guilty," Verity said. "You never got to grow up with your parents and I can hardly stand mine."
"Hey, just because you have parents doesn't mean they have to be good ones. I've seen plenty of people who don't deserve to be parents in my line of work," Mark assured her.
Verity shrugged. "It's not that they are bad parents," she said. "I mean, they gave me everything I could ever want growing up. They…anything material…new clothes…tutors…books…I mean they paid for my piano lessons for years. I had everything, but I just never really had them. They would always be at dinners or parties. Holidays were never family time, it was always time for them to go off and leave me with the nanny."
Mark was quiet and Verity rolled her eyes.
"I get it," she said to him. "Poor little rich girl, right? Had everything handed to her on a plate and still thinks she's hard done by because she didn't have mommy and daddy's attention."
"I don't think that."
"I do," Verity said. "And I hate myself for it."
"You really shouldn't," Mark said to her. "I don't think there's anything wrong with feeling resentment. I mean, would you have given it all up if it meant you could have been closer to your parents?"
"Without a doubt," Verity replied. "Anyway, I still see them once a month. Mother insists on dinner together to catch up, but they use it more as an opportunity to set me up with one of their friends' sons…or berate me for not having a proper job."
"And what do they do for work?"
"My father is director of an insurance company and mother is from old money. She's never worked and never needed to. She sits on the boards of charities…hosts dinners…galas…that kind of thing. I think she always wanted me to follow in her footsteps, but I always disappointed her."
"Then, and I am sorry to say this because I have never met them, but your parents sound like idiots," Mark said and Verity let out a loud laugh, snorting once and covering her mouth with her hand. Mark chuckled and Verity looked at him, eyes glimmering with mirth and amusement. She nodded and rolled her eyes to the night sky.
"My parents would definitely hate you," she said to him.
Mark chuckled. "Not sure that bothers me too much. In fact, I think that's almost a compliment, right?"
"I'd take it as one," she assured him.
"Then that's exactly what I'll do," he said with a nod. "But seriously, if they act like that then screw them. Life is too short to be unhappy. Fancy things are nothing…I mean, do they make your parents happy?"
Verity shrugged. "I don't know," she confessed. "My father…I think he's had affairs. I am pretty sure he has actually. Mother doesn't look or she just chooses not to. I brought it up once when I was fifteen. I'd seen him in his study with his assistant and…I knew enough to know what was going on and what I was seeing. I ran to my mother and she just shrugged me off…told me to go to my room…father…I would just look at him and wonder how he could do this to us."
"Shit that really does suck," Mark said and Verity stood still her arm moving from his and Mark turned around, looking down to her with a quizzical glance.
"I've only ever told Janet about that," she said to him.
Mark wondered if this was going to be her closing off to him. Was she going to run? Was she going to hide from him? He didn't know, but what he did know was that he felt something between them. He knew that there was something and he knew it was something he wanted to pursue.
"And I haven't even told the people who I work with about my parents," Mark replied. "I hardly tell anyone because I hate the false pity they give me, but you haven't done that. You…you make me feel comfortable and not many people have that impact."
"I don't do this," Verity said to him. "I don't unload all of this onto strange men who I've just met."
"Not sure I can be a strange man when you know my name."
"I hardly know anything else about you."
Mark was acutely aware that they were stood in the middle of an empty sidewalk, the only noise coming from a restaurant down the street where people stood outside drinking and having cigarettes. Mark stepped closer towards Verity, hands going into the pockets of his coat and shoulders moving up and down.
"What do you want to know?"
"I don't know," she replied. "I mean…is this weird? We haven't even done the awkward small talk and you already know things I haven't told people I've known for years."
"I find the small talk boring," Mark said with a smirk and Verity couldn't help but smile back at him, almost as if she was in disbelief. Should it be this easy with someone she's just met? Should she feel this at ease with him? "Granted, this has not been traditional in any sense, but I really don't see anything wrong with that because we've been walking for…" he checked the watch on his wrist, "about an hour and I'm already trying to find excuses to keep walking."
Verity's stomach flipped and her chest heaved as she realised just how close she was to him. She had never felt like this when she'd first met someone. She'd never wanted to keep a date going for even longer than she thought was acceptable. But was this even a date? She was still holding the rose he had given her in her left hand by her satchel.
"Well…as much as I would love to find an excuse to keep walking too…an hour in these heels is killing me," she confessed and Mark continued to smirk smugly.
"I figured those couldn't be comfortable. I didn't think you'd live this far away."
"I usually get the subway."
"I can imagine," Mark retorted. "Yet you asked me to walk you home."
"Well, if we got the subway then this would have been over in about thirty minutes."
"So you wanted to drag it out?"
"Had to figure if you were worth getting to know. You can't do that in thirty minutes," she said and Mark's smile continued to widen as he noted her blush increase on her cheeks. He liked this side of her.
"I'm flattered," Mark replied, hand going to his chest. "And is the jury still out?"
"You're a cop," she said. "You should know better than anyone that it can take quite a while for a jury to deliberate."
"Depends on the evidence."
"And what evidence do you have?"
"Well," Mark began, hands going to his hips. "If we are talking things that should go in my favour then you already know I love classical music."
"A good start."
"I cook a very good Bolognese."
"A foodie?"
"The only way to someone's heart, I think," he said, hand patting at his chest and he watched as she tried not to laugh too much. She also couldn't deny the way her eyes flickered down to his lips and he felt a warmth pool in his stomach. "I also love scary movies."
"What about rom-coms?"
"When Harry Met Sally is a personal favourite."
"A good choice," Verity confirmed.
"I'm also quite funny…always turn up to dates with flowers," he said, motioning to the rose she was holding. He wasn't going to tell her that he had improvised that. He took a moment to consider what else he should say before he settled on it. Moving until his chest was almost brushing hers, he finished off, daring to move his fingers to her cheek, thumb roaming on her cheekbone. "Plus, I imagine I would piss your parents off."
"You really did save the best until last," she joked and he felt her lean in closer to his touch.
"I thought so too," he agreed with her.
"And Janet told me I was an idiot last night to run away from you. I wondered why she had this smug look on her face all night when I said I doubt I'd ever see you again."
"She's a good friend," Mark commented. "She could've easily told me to get lost and not to bother you. I get the feeling she's very protective and there's nothing wrong with that at all."
"I'm glad she interfered. I don't usually say that for her, but this time…yeah, I'm glad."
"So am I," he promised her. "Now, while I would love to stand here all night and just talk to you, I do suspect those heels aren't doing your feet any good so how much further is it until your apartment?"
Verity had to admit that he wasn't wrong and she could already feel the blisters beginning to form. She moved a hand to his shoulder and he dropped his from her cheek, instead tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear. She reached for her heels and pulled them from her feet, carrying them in her hand as Mark shook his head.
"You're going to hurt your feet."
"I live ten minutes away and I'd rather take the sidewalk than walk in those heels for another step," she said to him and Mark shook his head as she shoved them into her satchel.
"Afraid I can't let you take that risk. As a New York officer, it would go against my civic duty," he retorted and Verity wondered what he was doing but she was almost doubling over in laughter when she realised. He was going to give her a piggyback all the way home. Verity laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, his own hands holding her thighs and her satchel swinging against her back.
"You can't carry me, Mark," she said and he shook his head.
"I think you'll find I can. Now, am I going left or right?"
"Mark-"
"-Left or right, Miss Daniels," he interrupted. "You don't want to argue with an officer, do you?"
Verity continued laughing, shaking her head and inhaling the scent of the shampoo from his hair. It smelt almost like sandalwood, intoxicating her senses.
"Left," she directed him. "Thank you very much, Officer Hoffman."
"You're welcome, ma'am," he replied and tried not to think too much about how her thighs felt wrapped around him. He carried her the rest of the way, asking her for directions until they came to a brownstone building on a leafy road. It looked posh, much posher than where he lived. He set her down on a step up to her building and she moved her arms from around his neck.
Verity glanced behind her to her building. "This is me," she said and Mark nodded.
"Glad you made it home safe," he said.
"You wouldn't be much of an officer if I didn't, right?"
"Most definitely not," he assured her on that point. "And I gather it goes without saying, but I want to see you again."
"As long as I get to wear appropriate footwear next time, then yes, I would like that too," she said and Mark smirked, nodding his head and looking her in the eye considering they were the same height with her on the step.
"I'm working night shifts for the next week," he said to her, not entirely sure how this would work. "I don't know if that ruins things or makes life difficult-"
"-I can do breakfast?" she suggested to him and Mark found her eagerness endearing. He nodded. "I know this amazing waffle house near Brooklyn."
"And it just so happens I love waffles," Mark said. "I think I might especially be in the mood for them tomorrow."
"Is that so?"
"Most definitely."
"Would ten a.m. work?"
"A perfect time for breakfast," Mark confirmed and Verity nervously pushed her hair behind her ear, not sure what she was doing as she noticed him glance across her face. "I guess I should head off…leave you-"
"-Do you want to come up?" Verity interrupted, wondering if this was being too forward. She bit down on her tongue for a second as Mark's eyes widened. "I can call you a cab. I'd feel bad if you had to catch the subway home after you walked me back here."
Mark wasn't sure if that was what she meant, but he knew he wasn't going to give up the chance to see her place. He found that a home really told him about a person. Nodding his head, he saw her face light up before she turned and moved towards the door. She fumbled in her bag for the keys and unlocked the door. Mark followed her, hands in his pockets as they walked up one flight of stairs and she unlocked the door that said apartment six. She held the door open and dropped her bag to the floor, switching the lights on.
"This is me," she said and Mark was amazed at what he was seeing.
Her hallway was as big as his kitchen. The floors were wooden floorboards and there was a chandelier hanging in the long hall that had bare walls. There was panelling along the bottom and it reminded Mark of some stately home. Verity shrugged out of her coat, leaving her in the dress she had been wearing at her piano that came off the shoulders. Mark wasn't sure if he should take his coat off or not, but she made the decision for him.
"Feel free to hang your coat with mine," she said. "Do you want a drink?"
"It depends," Mark said. "Do I place my order with you or the butler?"
Verity shot him a glare and he looked at her amusedly.
"It's not mine," she said to him and headed down the hallway and past three doors that were closed. He followed her and came to a large living room and kitchen. There was a sofa opposite a fireplace, a TV in the corner. The floors were carpeted and the kitchen was a classic mahogany style. The walls were a dark grey and the curtains were already drawn over three large windows.
"Whose is it? I haven't just helped you break in somewhere, have I?"
"As much as I would love to say yes, the answer is no," she replied and moved into the kitchen, opening cupboards and pulling out two glasses. She reached for the bottle of whiskey she kept at the back of a cupboard. "Janet's parents gifted her with this place when she graduated college. She moved out of it when she got engaged to Robert and asked me if I wanted to stay here…I don't pay rent, but I do pay for the bills and I can hardly afford those."
"Where were you living before this?"
"In an apartment share with four other girls," she said and handed him a glass of whiskey. Mark glanced around once more and wondered just how much a place like this would cost to rent. "And you? Where do you live?"
"Brooklyn," he replied. "Thankfully I live by myself, but I think my entire apartment might fight just in your kitchen."
"Not my kitchen," she reminded him and he followed her towards the sofa. They sat down at opposite ends, Verity curled up and Mark with his legs spread wide, nursing his glass in both hands. "I mean, this is nicer than sharing, I'm not denying that…it was either this or stay there…I wasn't going home after what happened with James."
"Janet mentioned something about a James. I take it he's an ex?"
"Are we really going to talk about past relationships?"
"We've covered parents…childhood trauma…might as well go for the home run," he said, not wanting to confess that he was just intrigued as to what had happened. "But you don't need to tell me anything you don't want to."
Verity cocked her head and took a sip of her drink again. "It's not that complicated really. I met him at Julliard at one of my mother's fancy galas. His parents were friends with mine and so my parents approved entirely of it. He was on the composer course with me and we…we hit it off, I guess. He was good looking, smart and charming," she confessed to Mark who watched her as she kept her gaze on the liquid in her glass. "I don't think I really knew what was happening…but he would…he would just tell me that what I was doing…what I was composing…it just didn't sound quite right. He always said I shouldn't be disheartened though. He reminded me how most people hardly made it once they finished Julliard."
Verity took another sip of her drink and Mark could see her eyes begin to glimmer with tears. He hadn't wanted this to happen. The last thing he had wanted to do was make her cry or upset her.
"Turned out it was good enough because he stole everything I'd done. He took my work and then passed it off for his own…graduated top of the class and I didn't have a leg to stand on. There had been no proof any of that work was mine. I told my mother but she told me not to worry about it. James didn't care what I graduated with. She was convinced he was going to propose. She was more upset that I broke up with him than anything," Verity said. "I confronted him and he just said he had no idea what I was talking about and that was worse. He just lied to my face…made me wonder if I had made it up…and then after so many months of being told I wasn't good enough…I just stopped playing. I stopped doing anything I loved and just stayed with Janet."
"What got you out of the slump?" Mark asked, putting his glass down on the coffee table and angling his body towards her.
"Janet and her tough love," Verity said. "She told me never to give something up because of a man. She practically forced me to play piano for her and I realised why I loved it. I swore since then that whatever James did…whatever success he had…I'd be better than he ever was."
"And did he have success?"
"Nope," she said with a satisfied smile on her face. "He couldn't compose for shit. He could hardly play the violin despite apparently being quite the prodigy as a child. He ended up going to work for his dad at some investment bank."
"What a bastard," Mark declared.
"Oh yeah," she agreed. "I shut myself off after that. I stopped dating and just spent time writing and playing…until you came over to me last night."
"I guess you have my team to thank for that."
"So if they hadn't have bet you ten dollars to come over to me…you wouldn't have?"
Mark tilted his head. "Honestly? I'm not sure," he confessed to her. "I'm not exactly the kind of guy who chats girls up in bars, Verity. The job is my life and it doesn't leave much time for dating. I mean, I had girlfriends in high school…Janine Davies…Michelle Wallis…but nothing serious."
"And why is that? It can't just be the job, right? I mean, you're good looking and clearly have a good sense of humour."
"I'm also a bit of a hermit. Rarely go out…last night was the first time I've been out in months with the team," he said to her. "Glad I did though or else I wouldn't be here."
"And what a night it's been," she replied. "I guess I should call you that cab, huh?"
"I guess you should," Mark said and he saw her put her own glass down. "But before you do, you should know that you're better than whatever that scumbag of an ex said to you. I mean, I heard you play for just an hour, but even I know that you have more talent than he ever could dream of having."
Her cheeks reddened even further from the alcohol and his words. She found herself acting out of impulse. She moved towards Mark, leaning towards him and before he could question what was happening, she was kissing him. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of her lips moving against his. He reached for her, his hands finding her hips and dragging her closer to him. Finally, she pulled away from him and panted for breath.
"I don't usually do that," she whispered, her breath warm against his lips. Mark smiled ruefully.
"Not going to say I mind," he said to her and she leaned in to kiss him again. Mark felt like they were moving in sync together as she scrambled into his lap, one leg either side of him and her front pressing against his. He knew that his trousers were getting considerably tighter, but he hoped she didn't notice or, if she did, wouldn't freak out.
He moved to kiss her neck slowly, listening to her moan against him, her body shuddering. He nipped down on her skin before brushing against it with his tongue softly. Her head tilted to give him better access, one of his hands holding the back of her head to angle her head where he wanted it. Her own hands ran up and down his shirt covered chest.
"I think…maybe…" she panted out as he kissed along her collarbone. "You…we should hold off on that cab…"
"Wholly agree," Mark said and her hands moved further south and towards his belt buckle. He groaned as she brushed against him and he moved his lips from her skin before planting them back on her own, firmly kissing her as she undid the fly to his trousers.
"Do you…I mean…the bedroom," she garbled but Mark understood and nodded. "I mean, unless this is too forward."
"Sweetheart, you've felt that, right?" he asked from her, moving his hips slightly and making his intention known. "I'm more concerned that I'm the one being too forward."
"The bedroom is at the end of the hall," she whispered and Mark wasted no time in picking her up, hauling her up against his body and carrying her to the bedroom.
"Don't need to tell me twice."
…
Waking up the following morning, Mark had been amazed at how well he had slept. The mattress was comfortable and at least a king-size, but he didn't have any of his personal space considering Verity was plastered to his side, one of her legs in between both of his, her head on his chest and her hair a mess, tickling his skin softly. He pulled the duvet higher up so that it covered her shoulder as she woke slowly. The sun had started to stream in from behind the curtains, illuminating the large bedroom that had a wall of wardrobes and a vanity. There were bookshelves against another wall, all filled with classics and music books. Clothes were strewn around the room and the chair by the window.
Verity began stirring, nestling tighter against Mark as he smirked and let her. He kept still as she began to wake up, her eyes fluttering open and an arm moving across his torso.
"Good morning," he said, voice husky.
"Good morning," she whispered, her own voice groggy.
"How did you sleep?"
"Very well," she muttered and Mark reached a hand up to run it along her arm, stroking it slowly. "And you?"
"I have to say that this bed is quite comfortable," he admitted to her. "And the company isn't too bad either."
She dug her fingers into his side and he winced with a chuckle before he kissed the top of her head slowly. "Last night…I mean…you're okay, right?"
Mark's brows arched on his forehead. "You really asking me I'm okay after last night?" he wondered from her. "Because I'm great."
"I just didn't want you to think I was too forward or that…you know…"
"I don't know," he said, peering down onto her, wondering just what she was thinking. But she seemed to struggle to say it. Mark continued to stroke her arm softly as she kept her head on his cheek. "Unless you're implying that you think last night was a one off thing…that I wouldn't be interested now because we've slept together?"
"I wondered."
"Well, don't," Mark said. "Because as nice as last night was and trust me, it was really nice, I am actually just as excited to take you out for breakfast this morning."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he confirmed and she picked her gaze up to meet his finally. He kissed her once more, the motion slow and sensual before he moved back and kissed the tip of her nose. "And I have to say that I'd be interested in eating other meals with you too."
She laughed at him and resumed kissing him once more, pretty certain that she'd found someone a little bit special.
...
A/N: So it is all sweetness to begin with but obviously that won't last forever! There will be quite a few chapters of back story and introducing some characters who might keep popping up...I'll let you guess on that one! Not sure if I am updating too quickly but I would love your thoughts on this!
