Page 119 of Vicious Games

“Are you okay?” he asks, entwining his fingers with mine under the table once I’ve sat down. I nod, not wanting to pick a fight with him right now in front of Darius and Lourdes. “You don’t need to lie to me. I can tell you’re upset,” he murmurs, giving my hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Why did you tell Lourdes I was going to culinary school?” I finally ask, facing him.

His shoulders slouch back into his chair, but his hand remains latched to mine, and he replies, “I didn’t say you were going. I said you would benefit from it. There’s a difference.”

“Not much of one from where I’m sitting,” I hush out, unable to hide my inexplicable anger.

Why am I so angry that he said such a thing?

Is it because he should know better than to vocalize a dream that will never come to fruition? Or is it that I resent him for even thinking it could be possible?

“I’m sorry,” he says after a long pause. He then leans in and hides a strand of my hair behind my ear, looking deep into my eyes. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

I stare into his warm brown orbs, seeing actual regret there. “It’s okay,” I let out a heavy sigh.

“Yeah?” His eyes light up. “You forgive me?”

“You’re kind of making it hard not to,” I retort, feeling my lips curve into a smile.

“Well, fuck me. I think that’s the first fight we had where you didn’t physically attack me.” He laughs, leaning closer.

“Don’t tempt me. I still might,” I tease.

“I’ll settle for a make-up kiss instead,” he counters, his gaze lowering to my lips.

“What? Here?” I giggle.

“Just one kiss, Frankie. What harm can one kiss make?”

Easy for him to say.

Every kiss feels like I’m promising something I shouldn’t. Something that isn’t mine to give.

Like my future.

Before I can stop myself, I bridge the gap between us, pressing a sweet kiss on his lips. His hand instantly snakes behind my nape, holding me still just so he can take as much of me as he can. His lips move against mine, gentle at first, then deeper. Hungrier. The air between us hums, thick with everything we’re not saying. Everything we’re pretending not to feel. Just as I’m being pulled under his spell, Lucky pulls back, his eyes hooded and a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“I might not like it when we fight, but I sure as fuck enjoy us making up.”

“Liar. You like it when we fight too,” I pant for breath.

“Not when it hurts you. Never when it hurts you,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I hope you know I’d never hurt you on purpose.” My heart drums in my chest at the sincerity in his voice.

He promises not to hurt me… but can I make the same promise?

Instead of addressing the loaded question swimming in his eyes, I cast a glance toward the other side of the kitchen, where Lourdes hums softly, weaving her magic. At the same time, Darius chats animatedly about his night at the mansion, his eyes wide and his hands flying with excitement. She listens patiently as she slides plates of scrambled eggs and bacon onto trays. With Darius in tow, she then walks over and places them in front of us.

“This all looks amazing, Lourdes. Thank you,” I say, slipping my hand from Lucky’s while doing my best to ignore his pout.

“Mangia, mangia,” she sings. “You’re too thin. All bones.”

I freeze for half a second and stare at her. Is that a joke? Is she messing with me?

As I look into her eyes, however, I see nothing but kindness and warmth reflected back at me, so I can tell she really means it. I guess her perception of thinness differs from the rest of the world. Not that I’m complaining.

“I could get used to this,” I murmur, already reaching for my fork.

“I hope you do,” Lucky says, earning a conspiratorial wink from Lourdes.

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