As the door to the flat opened, I checked my appearance. Three hours of trying to cook the perfect steak dinner showed in the hair slipping out of its ponytail and a slight smudge of something on my cheek. There was nothing I could do about the bruise on my face, although I'd tried to hide it with makeup. I wasn't sure how Marcus would react. He hated it when things he felt he owned were damaged.

Tonight needed to be perfect. I didn't want him to see me looking ruffled as if I had put in too much effort, as it would immediately make him suspicious of my intentions.

I wasn't sure why I was so anxious about getting this evening right, but I needed to tell Marcus how much gran's place meant to me. I wanted him to come with me, but I knew that would be an enormous sacrifice on his behalf. One I wasn't sure he would make. I wasn't happy with him outright deciding on my future and giving up the property without discussing it with me.

I greeted Marcus in the hall, and he pulled me in for a kiss. My skin tingled where his hand touched me as it was it always did. There was something about his guy I found utterly irresistible. He kissed me deeply before resting his cheek on the top of my head.

I felt his stubble graze my skin as he pulled back and winced. He looked at my face closely. The make up clearly hadn't covered the bruise well enough and his smile faded. The blue of his eyes seemed to darken as they fixed on the deepening purple bruise on my cheekbone.

"Evie, what happened?" he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. Concern tinged his voice. He touched the bruise, being careful not to apply any pressure.

I hesitated, trying to find the right words. How could I explain without sounding melodramatic? "It's nothing," I said.

He continued to stare at my damaged skin.

"It's clearly 'not nothing', Evie," he said. His voice carried a familiar hint of steel. Marcus always wanted to know the bottom line, so he could choose his options more clearly.

"Well," I hesitated. "There was an incident at Mrs Whitman's today."

"I can't believe the old lady did this to you."

"No, it was some guy called Davies. He was trying to get Mrs Whitman to sell up."

"Davies? The property developer?" He frowned, confusion mixing with concern in his piercing gaze.

I nodded. "He wanted part of Mrs Whitman's garden for development." I stopped, feeling a lump form in my throat as I remembered the way Davies had loomed over me. "Mrs Whitman said no, but he tried to intimidate her. I stood up for her, and he didn't take it well."

Marcus pulled me in for a hug. I felt his grip around me tighten as I recounted the details. "I'm proud of you for protecting those weaker than you, but by putting yourself in danger, you stop me from protecting you."

He held me so he could see my face again, as if he was making some decision. His eyes shifted from shock to a blend of anger and worry.

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" He was finding it hard to keep his voice steady. "There's this thing called a mobile phone."

"I didn't want to worry you," I said, biting my lip, habit when I was nervous or upset, and right now, I was both.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked at me, the anger fading from his eyes. "You know I hate it when you do that. Keep things from me."

"I know," I said, meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry, Marcus."

He hugged me again. "Promise me you'll be careful, Evie," he said into my hair.

"I promise," I said, hoping I could keep that promise.

"You smell good," he said, changing the subject. "But what's this all about? You never cook steak midweek, not that I'm complaining."

"I just wanted to celebrate," I said. "It's not everyday you inherit your childhood dream. I've always wanted to live there."

"Have you got any of that beer in?" Why was he changing the subject? Why was hesitant about the place? We needed to visit as I hoped when he saw the place, he would change his mind and want to move there.

"No, I'm sorry, we've run out." We had been drinking craft beer for the last three weeks, sharing the last one yesterday. I should have considered that if I wanted his support today.

I heard a faint growl as Marcus turned towards the lounge. It was a sound I tried hard to avoid, as I didn't like it when Marcus became irritated. Tonight was the worst time to wind him up.

"Just get me some wine then, just whatever," he said, shaking his head and fixing the cuffs on his shirt. He did that only before relaxing, so maybe things weren't as bad as I feared.

His day at the office must have been tough. As a stockbroker, he had a very stressful job. Some days he lost millions, but the next day he might make it back and more.

I gave Marcus his red wine, which placed on a side table before pulling me into his lip, burying his head into my neck. He inhaled deeply, as if he was taking in my scent.

"I'm sorry Evie. It's been a hard, long day. I shouldn't take it out on you," he said. "You know I'm worried about my job interview in 2 days' time. It's the job I've been working towards for the last 10 years."

"That's OK," I replied. Being in his arms was my safe space. His touch, being so close, skin against skin. I sat in his arms for 10 minutes, our breathing synchronising. How much time do you need before eating?" I asked.

"Give me 15 minutes, for a quick shower and I will be all yours and ready to eat."

He lifted me to my feet and headed towards the shower. I finished preparing his steak. It would only take a few minutes. He was very particular about how he ate his steak, charred on the outside but still running with juices on the inside.

I preferred my steak medium-rare.

Marcus sauntered into the lounge, his dark hair wet and slicked back from his face, highlighting his angular jaw. Instead of the dark suit he had been wearing, which flattered his physique, he was wearing a tight white t-shirt, showing off his muscles.

I needed to let him talk about his day. Whenever I listened to him and let him talk, he would give me his full attention rather than butting into every other sentence.

We enjoyed our meal together. The steak was perfect, and the conversation flowed freely on unimportant topics.

"So," he said, pushing his chair back from the table with the glass of red wine in his hand. "Tell me the truth. What was all this for?"

"I want to go check out the bed-and-breakfast. To see how it's changed and if I want to move out there."

"You didn't need to go to all this effort to make an impression on me. You are free to go there whenever you want."

I ignored him and continued. "The condition is that we move, sorry, that I move to the bed-and-breakfast, that I spend a year there. Once we have lived there for a year, everything is mine. If I don't live there for a year, then I lose everything."

Marcus muttered under his breath, "stupid old biddy," or that's what it sounded like. He had never really liked gran. They'd always had a very difficult, tense relationship. My gran always felt he wasn't good enough for me. I disagreed. He always took good care of me.

He looked deep into the burgundy liquid in his glass, considering his next words. "So you're saying you want me to move to the countryside with you for a year? You want me to give up everything I worked for in my career on the whims of a mad old lady?"

"No, love, I'm saying for me to inherit the money, then that's what I need to do. I'm not instructing you to do anything. I could feel his anger simmering, like a wedge between us.

"Is there any way around this?" he asked.

"Not that I can see. We need, I need to live there before it's becomes mine."

"Well, I'm not moving to the country. I must stay near this job. I need to be here to trade. I can't live in such a remote place."

"Maybe we can do both," I said. "You could live here during the week and visit me on weekends. What do you think?"

"You want to make this a long distance relationship? Do you think I can be away from my fiance for that long?" He looked deep into my eyes. I could see vulnerability in them, the intimacy which initially drew me to him. Only I was allowed to see his vulnerability.

I loved he wanted to spend so much time with me. My friends called him possessive, but I loved his attentiveness.

"I have no idea how this will work," I admitted. "We could meet up with gran's best friend tomorrow or I could visit her by myself, but I'd like you with me."

"Taking time off work on short notice might not be possible," Marcus said. "I don't want to make a poor impression the day before my interview."

"Well, maybe you don't have to be with me," I said uncomfortably.

Marcus closed his eyes and paused. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than with you while you deal with this stuff." I will be there. I'll take carers leave tomorrow and we can go up and meet this lady and see the property.

"I don't want you to do this by yourself. Putting pressure on you is not something I want to do. If it doesn't work out, it's alright though. I earn enough for both of us, and with the family money, you don't need the inheritance."

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