Guaranteed chaos.
Chapter 23
The crunch of tires over gravel cut through the morning rain tapping the scaffolding outside Marcus’s office window. His insides clenched. That had to be the car Ms. Birdie sent to take Frankie back to Manhattan.
In three minutes or less, she’d be gone. Out of his life. Whatever had sparked between them, snuffed out. All for the greater good. A clean break. A willing sacrifice. And maybe, if he kept saying it that way, his heart would stop shouting:you mother-fucking idiot.
A stronger man would stay put. Not check the window. Not look for one last glimpse of the woman who’d turned his careful life on its axis. And he sure as hell wouldn’t be listening for a knock on his back door in the hopes she’d stop and say goodbye.
“Hell.” He set down his coffee and moved to the rain-streaked window.
Headlights cut through the gray. A backfire cracked the stillness. Marcus froze. Not a town car. George’s battered pickup rattled up the drive, and it wasn’t forwork. Renovations were canceled while his brothers were in town.
As if on cue, Frankie rounded the corner, blue Birkin swinging, umbrella popped. On her feet, sky-high blue heels beneath a dress that hugged every curve. Buttons ran from hem to collar like a dare.
George hopped out and opened the door. She climbed in with easy grace, no backward glance, a short black wig he had not seen before in place.
“Wonder what that one’s called?” he muttered, grabbing his phone and calling the only person who could untangle this mess.
“Birdie residence,” Ms. Birdie answered on the second ring.
“Why,” Marcus ground out, staring down the drive, “did I just watch Frankie leave for work?”
“I did what I could,” Ms. Birdie replied, infuriatingly calm. “Told her she was no longer needed. Strongly encouraged packing. Even offered transportation.”
“And?”
“She refused. Said she made a commitment she intends to honor.”
“Commitment to what?”
“To help Rae Mathers.”
Marcus blinked. “Come again?” Rae Mathers was basically a walking detention slip. How the hell had she landed on Frankie’s radar?
“According to Frankie,” Ms. Birdie continued, her tone softening, “she made a promise to this child, and intends to keep it.”
“And you just let her tell you no? Aren’t you her boss? Doesn’t her commitment toNaked Runwaycome first?”
“Darling, I know you’re under a great deal of stress, and because of that, I’ll refrain from saying what I think about your tone of disrespect. But I will say this… You need to tell her you’re Mr. Uptight. Tell her the truth that you and your brothers have a secret worth protecting.”
For one reckless heartbeat, he considered it, what it would mean to go rogue and place his trust in Frankie Peterson.
But the thought barely had time to bloom before he crushed it. Frankie was impulsive. The stiletto incident had proved that. Hell, she’d promised revenge on Mr. Uptight more than once if she figured out who he was.
Between her high emotions, vows of revenge, and a journalist who could sniff out secrets between two monks, there was no way in hell he could risk telling Frankie either of his remaining truths.
Gi Gi hadn’t sacrificed everything for him to blow it chasing the impossible dream of a woman like Frankie.
Family first. Always.
“I can’t risk it,” he said, voice scraped raw.
Ms. Birdie sighed. “Then you’ve got a problem. One I hope you solve before it costs you both more than you can afford.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me, too.”
He hung up before she could say anything else. The scent of bacon hit him halfway to the kitchen, and his stomach growled in response. Giovanni must have run into town and grocery shopped. Having a chef for a brother wasn’t all bad.
