Page 117 of Vicious Games

Chapter 19

Frances

Aside from the soft hush of our footsteps, the Romano mansion is dead quiet. Unwilling to wake anyone up, I silently guide Darius down the hallway, attuned to every creak and shift of air around us. As we descend the winding staircase, sunlight spills through the large, wide windows, catching on the chandeliers and warming the cold marble beneath our feet.

I pause for a second, taking in the polished floors, the glittering glass, the ample space. It’s all so different from the orphanage, where light comes through cracked panes and the floors groan under every step. This place feels like a dream someone else is meant to have. Someone who isn’t me.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” Darius rubs his eyes and yawns. “Do you think we’re even allowed to eat? I mean, without permission from your boyfriend’s family?”

“Lucky said it was fine,” I whisper back, even though I feel like I’m trespassing. “Just… be cool.”

“I knew it. He is your boyfriend!” Darius smiles, looking more alert now.

“Shh,” I press my finger on my lips.

“You can shush me all you want, but you didn’t deny it.” He grins ear to ear as if he’d just caught me in a lie.

I let out a heavy sigh since I know he won’t stop asking me about who Lucky is to me until I give him an answer.

“Lucky’s not my boyfriend. He’s a… friend,” I finally relent.

“We don’tdofriends.” He arches a brow.

“Well, we do now. And Lucky isourfriend. There… you happy?”

Darius glances around the grand, lavish foyer and shrugs. “We could do worse.”

I chuckle under my breath and smile.

He’s right. As friends go, I could definitely do worse than Lucky Luciano Romano. However, it’s not the wealth or his family’s generous hospitality that makes him a good friend.

It’s him—Lucky. And last night, we were more than just friendly—we were perfect.

Still, even perfection has an expiration date. Nothing lasts forever in life. Especially mine.

It took all the restraint I had to leave his room this morning. After the night we had, we both needed a shower and some food in our systems. I also wanted to check on Darius.

Back at the orphanage, we’re up by six-thirty and eating breakfast by seven sharp, no excuses. So I wasn’t surprised when I walked into his room a few minutes ago and found him already freshly showered, dressed, and the bed made, just like the nuns drilled into us. And, like me, he was also starving.

As we make our way to the kitchen in search of breakfast, we pass the grand dining room, where a long table surrounded by a dozen empty chairs sits beneath a vase of white roses that likely cost more than our combined tuition.

For a second, I hesitate. Maybe we are being rude, like Darius said—creeping around the mansion while everyone’s still asleep, thinking about food. Are we supposed to wait for someone to invite us? Stay in our respective rooms until someone calls us for breakfast? I don’t know the rules in houses like this. Neither of us does. We’re just hungry. But after everything the Romanos have done for us, the last thing I want is to seem ungrateful.

As if hearing my internal struggle, Lucky appears out of nowhere. His hair is damp, his shirt rumpled as if he just pulled it on, and he’s carrying a duffle bag under his arm, but all I see is that swoony, crooked grin on his face aimed at me.

Crap…did I just describe Lucky’s smiles as swoony? God, help me.

I plead with my heart to settle down as he places a chaste kiss on my cheek and then focuses on my little brother.

“You sleep okay, little man?”

“It was alright.” Darius shrugs nonchalantly.

“He slept in a king-size bed with sheets that probably have a higher thread count than my entire wardrobe,” I tease, eyeing Darius with affection.

“Well, you must be hungry. Kitchen’s this way,” he says, motioning us down another corridor.

“Are you sure it’s okay with your parents? We wouldn’t want to be rude. We can wait for everyone else to wake up,” I say, my anxiety coming back to me.

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