Page 23 of Mark & Don't Tell

“It smells so good.” I follow her into the kitchen. It’s still a shock to walk in and see the gleaming marble counters. This house might not be a mansion, but it’s a major upgrade from the peeling siding, old roof, and bubbling laminate counters I grew up with. I can’t say I blame Letti for not wanting to move into our old house. It was in rough shape, and she deserves better.

Letti bounced around from crappy pack to crappy pack until she met my dads, when they came out to do a repair for her. Their meet-cute was something out of a book, and if she had the courage to keep trying, maybe I should too. She’s found a good, strong love without her scent matches. While my dream has always been to find my fated mates, maybe I need to start thinking differently.

But that’s the thing—I don’t want to settle. I want that uncontrollable love. I want the all-consuming attraction and need that comes with scent matches. I want to be possessed by it. Last night with Vic was the closest I’ve ever gotten. And if that’s not sad, I don’t know what is.

The spacious kitchen is filled with my dads and what I can only assume are Letti’s brothers. Or two of them. Nico, my other dad, said she has three.

“Daria,” Letti begins, turning back to me and gesturing to the tall men in the kitchen. “Meet my brothers Alejandro, Carlos, and...where’s Vicente?”

My heart jumps into my throat. Vicente? Surely that’s a coincidence, right? It has to be. There’s no way that the beta who fucked the shit out of me last night is...

“I’m right here, Lettícia. You’re as bad as Mamá.”

That voice.

Oh, fuck.

“I heard that,” Letti’s mom calls from the other room.

The brothers in the kitchen chuckle, and my mouth goes dry as Vic steps into the kitchen. He’s as beautiful as I remember—tattoos, strong jaw, sinful lips. He’s rolling his eyes at his brothers. His black hair is neatly swept back, but it’s him. There’s no mistaking that face or the way the deep timbre of his voice shoots straight to my core and has my cunt clenching, remembering exactly what he felt like inside of me. Remembering how his tongue swirled over my clit. Or the way he smirked up at me right before I sat on his face.

Is it hot in here?

Vic’s smile is beautiful, and I ache to have his eyes on mine to see if he’s as affected by last night as I am, but at the same time, I want a hole to open and swallow me whole because holy shit. Vic is Letti’s brother.

My cheeks are probably bright red. I glance at my dads to see if they can tell I’m panicking, but they’re grinning at Letti, who is chastising her brother in Spanish.

She huffs, then turns to me. “Daria, meet my baby brother, Vicente.”

“Baby? I’m forty-two,” he tells her. And then I feel the weight of his attention fall to me, and I swear he sucks in a sharp breath.

My gaze roves over his face, memorizing the surprise on his face. “Uh, nice to meet you,” I say quickly.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, expression shuttering. That lighthearted smile is gone, and he’s staring at me like he’s trying to figure out how to get rid of me.

Guess I should’ve seen that coming. Disappointment swims in my stomach. No, you know what? I’m not going to let this get to me. I’m done letting other people hurt me.

Turning away from him is hard, but I give him my back, a very subtle fuck you and look at Letti. “What can I help you with?” His gaze drills into me, making my hackles rise, but I ignore that too.

“The table needs napkins,” my stepmom says. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Heart fluttering, I grab the napkins from the drawer and escape into the dining room.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How is this possible?

That man has done so many things to me. That man has been consuming my thoughts all day. How am I supposed to sit through a dinner and pretend like we’ve never met?

One of the other brothers says something about the latest happenings in the stock market, and that starts a big discussion about investments. I lay all the napkins on the gleaming dining room table, chewing on my cheek and trying to come up with an excuse to leave.

But that would hurt Letti’s feelings, and I really like her.

No. I’ll have to suffer through and try to erase the memory of last night from my mind.

Which is a damn shame because I spent half the day wondering if I’d find him at the club if I went back. Blowing out a hard breath, I pull myself up. I can do this.

“You must be Daria.”

I spin and spot an older woman sitting in the leather recliner in the living room, her hands resting on a cane. She’s got the same scrutinizing gaze as Vic, but her soft smile reminds me of Letti.

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