Page 44 of Vicious Games

“Fine, whatever.” I follow him outside, mumbling under my breath. “Just remember, I already took you down once. I can do it again.”

“Hardy har har.”

“Not joking.” I roll my shoulders back. “Any funny business and I promise you’ll meet my left hook again.”

“I’m not going to do anything to you. I just want to get out of this place and get you away from my meddlesome family before they get any ideas.”

I glance at him. “What kind of ideas?”

“Who knows with that lot? They get carried away over nothing.”

I can’t tell if he’s being honest or laying the groundwork for some elaborate prank. And if it’s the latter, I wasn’t bluffing when I said I’d punch him again.

No, Frankie. You can’t hit him. You’re already on thin ice with Sister Margaretta as it is. Imagine how mortified she’d be if she found out you decked Lucky again—especially after his family invited you into their home. Or second home. Whatever.

Those thoughts tumble around in my head as we walk deeper into the woods behind the mansion, the crunch of dry leaves echoing beneath our steps.

Autumn is on fire around us. The trees are ablaze in scarlets and golds, the air crisp with that unmistakable earthy scent. The sun filters through the branches in soft, golden beams, making the whole area look almost mystical.

Aside from winter, autumn is one of my favorite times of year. I’d take this serenity over the blazing heat of summer any day.

It’s so beautiful here. Calming. Almost enough to make me forget who I’m with.

I take a deep breath, letting the stillness settle over me like a blanket.

My guard drops. Just a little. Just enough. And when I’m completely distracted by the tranquility of my surroundings, Lucky decides to act and push me up against a tree.

I immediately shove my hands against his chest in defense and yell, “Let me go, Lucky!”

“Not until we get a few house rules straight,” he says, his voice low and sharp. “Whatever you think you saw back there? Forget it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I shout in his face.

His grip tightens on my hips, not enough to hurt me, but enough to make a point.

“Don’t play dumb, Frankie. I saw you. I saw your face when you noticed Gio holding my mom’s hand.”

How? He ignored me all throughout lunch. Or… was he faking it?

“So?” I frown.

“So, I don’t want to hear shit at school tomorrow about it. In fact, I’d rather no one even knew you came here today.”

I roll my eyes. “Like I go around telling people about my life.”

“What life?” He smirks.

Motherfucker.

Forgive me, Sister Margaretta, but the prick had it coming.

His smug expression barely has time to register before I slam my knee straight into his crotch.

“FUUUUUUUUUCK!” Lucky howls, doubling over as he clutches his junk.

“That’ll teach you not to try intimidating me again.” I smile, his hollers of pain music to my ears.

He’s still bent over in agony with one hand braced against the tree trunk for support and says, “Jesus fuck, Frankie! Do you always wake up in the morning and choose fucking violence?!”

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