Luca:How bad is the fallout?
Giovanni:Does she know you’re Mr. Uptight?
Lorenzo:Maybe you shouldn’t tell her.
Marcus stared at the screen, throat tight. Too late.
Marcus:She knows. And if I don’t move, Channel 8 will know by morning.
Dots blinked.
Antonio:Ideas on neutralizing the situation?
Marcus:She’s not the type to be neutralized.
A memory of a date night conversation tugged at his brain.
Marcus:She once mentioned hoping to be the recipient of a grand gesture someday.
Luca:We can work with that.
Lorenzo:What do you have in mind?
He let his gaze settle on the Birkin, the first thing she’d ever trusted him with, and a plan formed.
Marcus:Hear me out on this.
Chapter 41
The cottage was quiet.
Ziggy was out. After the ambush, he’d walked Frankie to the golf cart, offered a ride to the manor, kissed her cheek, adjusted her wig, and sashayed toward the bonfire. “If you murder anyone, darling, wear something flattering for the mugshot.”
For now, it was just Frankie, the silence, and a loop of everything she should have said to Marcus.
Her phone buzzed. Not Marcus.
Ms. Birdie.
Perfect. Emotional sabotage followed by unsolicited wisdom. She let it ring. And ring. Her therapist’s voice nudged: When you’re too raw to be alone with your thoughts, call someone you trust.
Did Ms. Birdie qualify?
Only one way to find out. Frankie stabbed Accept. “If you’re calling to say you knew who Mr. Uptight was this whole time, I swear—”
“I called because I saw the interview. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“And I take peace,” Ms. Birdie added, “knowing you finally know who Mr. Uptight is.”
Betrayal rose like bile. So she had known. “How could you not tell me?”
“Because if I had, every choice you made would have orbited him,” Ms. Birdie said. “This was always meant to be about you.”
Frankie’s jaw tightened. “What part of about me includes being lied to and maneuvered?”
“Not lied to. Guardrails,” Ms. Birdie said, unruffled. “What’s best for you is discovering what you actually want, not what you think you’re supposed to want.”
