She blinked. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m bringing them myself. I need out. Eddy…” He sighed like the weight of a thousand fashion faux pas was on his shoulders. “It’s not good right now. He’s sending ending-soon signals, and I could use a break. Or a distraction. Preferably one with wine and Frankie-level judgment.”
Frankie’s heart squeezed. As new couples went, Ziggy and Eddy didn’t make her gag.
“Zig…”
“Don’t count us out yet, queen. Just make sure this town’s got room for one more emotionally unstable fashion editor with impulse control issues, a Sephora rewards card maxed out at Rouge status, and an affinity for blackout shopping.”
She grinned. “You can’t truly be so concerned that you’d come to Gi Gi’s Crossing voluntarily.”
“Honey, I’m more anxious than an unpaid intern who left a couture gown in the back of a taxi and then realized the receipt was in the gown.”
“In that case, bring wine. Lots of wine. This town doesn’t even have a liquor store.”
“Please, I’m bringing enough to open one. See you just as soon as I get the okay from Ms. Birdie to takesome me-time.” He hung up.
Frankie set the phone down, let her head fall back, and smiled at the water-stained ceiling like it was a freshly waxed runway.
This wasn’t just control. This was the start of a comeback, front row, spotlight ready, and guaranteed to make the Miss Informed gossip column. She could already see the headline:Runaway Heiress Melts Down in Small Town, Forms Cult.
Chapter 21
The back door slammed. Marcus winced. He’d meant to tell her. He’d even started to. Then she wanted to go first. And—
The pounding on the manor door rattled the frame, jerking him back to the reason she’d left in the first place. His glass hit the mantel harder than he meant, amber sloshing over the rim. “Damn it.”
He wanted to go after Frankie. To fix…his mess. And it stank worse than cheap whiskey. Instead, he had an uninvited visitor. If this was Harriet with another fake owl update, he’d lose it. Everyone knew she just wanted to gossip…probably about the ghost sighting in the town square. Harriet swore she’d caught it on camera this time.
Scowling, he stomped to the door and yanked it open.
Four brothers. Grim faces. Bad news written all over them.
“What the hell are you doing in Gi Gi’s Crossing?” They’d all agreed that at any given time, only one of them would be in town. At the reading of Gi Gi’s will,Marcus had drawn the short straw and had been the first to move to the small town to complete his Gi Gi task. When the manor was fully restored, he’d return to Manhattan and one of the other four would take his place.
“Not out here,” Giovanni said, his tone sharp as one of his chef’s knives.
Marcus stepped back. They swept inside in a wave of leather, cologne, and tension. Wordless, he led them to the living room.
Luca slung his Vancouver Vortex jacket across a chair. His posture said casual, but his eyes didn’t. Antonio paced like a caged wolf, restless energy snapping off him. Lorenzo didn’t look up from the blue glow of his phone.
“We’ve got a problem,” Giovanni said.
“Not we. Him,” Antonio shot back. “He’s got a fucking problem.”
“That’s not how it works,” Luca said, dropping onto the sofa with too much charm for the moment. “One brother’s problem is all our problem. At least, that’s the sermon I get every damn holiday.”
Marcus’s patience thinned. “Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?”
“Your project,” Antonio snapped. “She’s the problem.”
Marcus’s stomach dropped. Frankie. “What about her?”
Lorenzo finally looked up, face pale in the phone’s glow. “I picked up chatter this afternoon. Journalist Melanie Carter has a tip Frankie lied about why she threw the stiletto. She’s chasing it like it’s royal scandal season.” He glanced back at his phone. “She’s pinging every contact she has, testing networks like she’s running a full systems scan.”
“And this prompted all of you to drop everything and come here?” What was he missing?
“She’s also after the identity of the man who took the hit,” Giovanni said. “Which means she’s after you.”
