The room hushed. Even Ziggy.
Frankie spun, caught Marcus’s eye mid-turn, and laughter unexpectedly bubbled out.
They moved together easily. Too easily. Like the rhythm had been waiting for them all along. Curiosity had been right to choose him.
Marcus stepped in close and leaned in, voice brushing her ear. “We move well together. Let me try again when the cat clocks out.” His gaze held hers, unflinching.
She leaned in, close enough to feel the heat of his skin.
“My bedroom. Midnight,” she whispered. “Curiosity says you’ve got one more chance.”
Chapter 32
Marcus stalked the study, pacing the rug with the grim focus of a man waiting for his own execution. Midnight ticked closer in the grandfather clock and in his molars. The house sighed. Somewhere downstairs, the music from Frankie’s club drifted up, carrying her laugh all the way to him.
He’d expected to come home and find her gone, or at least frosty. His plan, should she still be there, had been simple: act needy, make excuses, bumble so spectacularly she’d leave to escape the disaster. But then he’d seen her smiling and his brain had short-circuited, or rebelled, or maybe his traitor heart had taken over. He really hoped it wasn’t the last. There was no way she’d ever love him back.
Having no idea what to do next, he opened the brother group chat and hit video. Four tiles blinked to life.
Giovanni wore his chef coat, steam curling behind him, tasting spoon gripped like a gavel. Antonio sat in perfect lighting with a branded mug, mood boards pinned in a meticulous grid over his shoulder. Lorenzo was framed by three glowing monitors and a headset,code marching across one screen. Luca lounged in a team hoodie, one shoulder taped, hockey stick balanced across his knees.
Antonio’s gaze went surgical. “You look like a man who was just told off by a woman as she was walking out of your life.”
Luca’s grinned followed. “Scoreboard says: Frankie one, Marcus zero.”
Giovanni’s spoon hovered like a gavel. “I didn’t know if you had it in you. Proud of you bro.”
Lorenzo kept typing. “Start from the top.”
Marcus let out a breath. “You’re all fucking wrong. Bad Boyfriend was a bust. I had to implement the nuclear option. Which was also a bust, because I’ve been invited back to her bed for a fucking do over.”
Silence. Then the screen erupted in chaos.
Antonio: “You did what?”
Giovanni: “You actually did it?”
Lorenzo: “Please confirm this is a joke.”
Luca: “Fuck, man!”
Marcus stared at them, jaw tight. “Why do you all sound like I just admitted to being Santa Claus?”
Giovanni groaned into his spoon. “Bad sex was never actually on the table.”
Marcus’s head snapped up. “Come again?”
“It was a deterrent,” Giovanni said.
“Deterrent to what?”
“To your taking the nice guy approach to being a bad guy.” Giovanni shrugged, as if it went without saying. “To your not giving the bad date thing everything in your arsenal.”
“Are you saying you didn’t trust me to get behind the assignment?” Marcus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d only had eight years as a DeLuca, but a boy could learn a lot in that time. They carried out assignments. Distasteful or not. Sure, he was young when that had been drilled into him. But it had stuck.
“Nope,” Luca said.
“And it sounds like we were right to worry you couldn’t pull off bad boyfriend,” Lorenzo added.
