Chapter 214

Quinn's POV

After the gala, I rode back to the Sherwood mansion with the family. In the car, Christine leaned forward from her seat. "Quinn, honey, you and Spencer have been married three years now. Have you thought about giving us a grandchild?"

I felt my chest tighten. A baby? Spencer spent more nights at club than in our wing of the house. The idea was laughable.

"I know it's been... difficult with Spencer," Christine continued, her voice softening. "But you've seen how he is. All those nights downtown, the gossip in the Post... Maybe a baby would give him something real to focus on besides bottle service at club. They say becoming a father changes men."

She didn't sound convinced. Neither was I.

"And then there's Marcus," she sighed, mentioning my workaholic brother-in-law. "Brilliant as he is in his research, even with this new girlfriend... I can't be sure he'll ever settle down. The Sherwood Group needs an heir - the shareholders are asking questions."

I understood their position. The Sherwoods had been generous, playing very nice to me and giving me a seat on their board. "I'll talk to Spencer," I heard myself say. "If he agrees... we can try."

It was past midnight when Spencer stumbled in, his suit reeking of vodka. He froze at his bedroom door, checking his watch - 2:30 AM.

"Lost?" His mouth twisted. "Marcus's room is down the hall, if that's what you're after."

I kept my expression neutral and played deaf to his mockery.

"Still here?" He glared when I didn't move. He loosened his tie with exaggerated movements. I looked at my watch instead of him.

After his shower, he emerged in a robe, scowling at finding me still on his armchair. "Quinn, what the hell? This isn't some Lifetime movie. Get out. I need to sleep."

"Your parents want a grandchild," I said quietly.

He barked out a laugh. "What am I, their personal breeding program? Not happening!"

"You're twenty-nine," I reminded him.

"I wouldn't do it at fifty-nine."

"By fifty-nine, your trust fund might not cover the IVF."

"Jesus, Quinn!" His carefully maintained composure cracked.

I stood up, keeping my voice steady. "According to my Flo app, I'm ovulating. One time could do it. If we miss tonight, it means more of your... precious time away from your buddies at club."

My silk robe was conservatively tied. "You've had plenty of experience in these situations. How do you want to handle this?"

His face twisted. "Have you lost your mind? Is this because Marcus brought his girlfriend home? That desperate? Remember our wedding night - how you couldn't even stay in the honeymoon suite?!"

Painful memories are flooding back, and I feel like I'm suffocating. I thought time would dull the pain, but his words still cut deep. I'm digging my nails into my skin, trying to use the physical pain to drown out the memories. I tried to compose myself. "This has nothing to do with Marcus. I just think we should start a family."

"I've already told you I'm not interested," he says, his impatience authority bleeding into every word.

Looking at his irritated expression, I stretch up on my heels, barely managing to kiss his neck. Even in heels, the height difference is ridiculous - he towers over my 5'4" frame with his basketball player height. I feel his throat tighten, his whole body going rigid.

My hand slips inside his robe. "Been skipping those SoulCycle classes lately?" I said, my fingers tracing his stomach. "Your six-pack isn't what it used to be..."

His expression hardens, that shark smile appearing. "Why don't you move that hand lower and find out?"

My fingers freeze against his skin.

"Getting cold feet?" He smirks.

"No, I just want to dim the lights." I hate how small my voice sounds.

"At least you know you're not Gisele Bündchen." His words cut like ice, but I stay quiet. The truth is, I just don't want to see the contempt in his eyes.

As I reach for the panel, he suddenly lifts me up. I startle at the sudden movement. He drops me onto bed like tossing a gym bag. "Let's make this quick."

His frame blocks out the moon light. When his face nears mine, I turn away instinctively.

"Really? Playing hard to get after trying to seduce me?" His laugh is pure condescension.

"We don't need to kiss to conceive." Even I can hear how pathetic that sounds.

"So this is just breeding stock for the Sherwood empire?"

"Family planning," I try to make it sound more sophisticated.

"Screw your family planning!" He pushes away from me. "If you're so hung up on my brother, go make your dynasty with him."

Before I can respond, he continues, his voice rising. "Let me tell you something, Quinn. I'm not some desperate fund manager who'll sleep with any socialite who comes calling. I have standards. You're like a Methodist choir girl in bed. You don't even make the cut. GET OUT."

His anger exploded so suddenly that my mind went completely blank. Before I can move, he grabs me and throws out.

The door slams hard enough to rattle the walls.

Tears streamed down my face, hitting the floor. I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried. I thought I'd become numb to things as I got older, but in that moment, I felt utterly humiliated. A deep, overwhelming sense of shame and a complete lack of dignity washed over me. I truly, deeply hated Spencer Sherwood - I always had, ever since we were kids.

I adjust my silk slip as I stand, fighting back tears. I'd expected tonight to go poorly - Spencer has always been volatile.

I push myself up from the floor when a hand appears in front of me.

Looking up, I see Marcus standing there. I was shocked, and desperate for him not to see how upset I was, I turned away abruptly and brushed away the tears. I took a deep breath, trying to get my heart rate back to normal.

I take his offered hand and slowly stand. "Sorry if I woke you," I say quietly.

"Still on Berlin time," Marcus explains. He's been abroad for years doing research, only recently transferred back to Columbia for a new research grant.

"Has Spencer always been like this?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"You learn to deal with it," I reply. I don't want to lie to Marcus, but I also don't want him to worry.

"Quinn, I'm sorry. If I hadn't pushed for ..." he trails off.

"Ancient history," I force a smile. "It's late. I should get some sleep."

"Let me walk you to your room."

A sudden SLAM echoes through the house-Spencer taking out his anger on another door. I jump despite myself.

Marcus reflexively reaches for my shoulder. I could feel the warmth of his palm, and the feeling was oddly familiar. I was momentarily captivated, but I still pulled away.

"Sorry, I was just-" he starts.

"It's fine," I say, reaching my door.

As I'm about to go in, Marcus speaks up: "About Emma who came back with me-she's not my girlfriend. She's my colleague's daughter. I'm helping out until Aiden returns from his sabbatical next month."