Page 47 of Bittersweet Endings
“I don’t want to hear her moaning. You will have plenty of women in California where I don’t have to hear it.”
“Put away your claws. I was just warming up.”
Once the flight was in the air, I noticed Marco twitching.
Watching him from across the aisle, pretending to be absorbed in my work, my eyes kept drifting over. He was leaning back in his seat, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on something out the window. The usual cocky smirk was absent, and for the first time in a long time, I saw him differently.
The playboy act was still there—flashes of it, at least—but there was something else now. A quiet edge. A sharpness that was new.
He’d changed. Hardened. Climbing the ranks in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge before. Yet here he was, on this flight to California. With me.
I shifted in my seat and cleared my throat. “You never said why you’re really here.”
Marco turned his head, one brow lifting. “I thought it was obvious. Sun, beaches, and beautiful women? California was practically calling my name.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Try again.”
He chuckled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “What? You don’t think I’d back my big sister?”
“Since when do you back me?” I challenged, crossing my arms. “Lucky would’ve sent me back to my room and locked me away forever. He still has his doubts. About me. About this trip. But you… you’re here.” I tilted my head, studying his face. “Why?”.
Marco exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Lucky has to be careful. He has to… It’s his job. But me?” His lips pressed into a thin line. “I saw what happened that night, Octavia. I saw the way Carmine looked at you.”
My stomach tightened. “And?” I asked, forcing my voice steady.
Marco’s gaze darkened. “I think if he had the chance, he’d steal you again. And this time, I don’t think he’d let you go. Octavia, I don’t trust him. But I trust you.” He shrugged, but there was weight to it. “So, if you say this trip needs to happen, I’m here. I won’t let him hurt you but I won’t hold you back either.”
I studied my brother for a moment, waiting for the smirk. Or the teasing remark that always undercut his sincerity. But it didn’t come.
Instead, I saw what I’d been trying to ignore. Marco might still have been a playboy, but he wasn’t just that anymore. He was a man with power. A man becoming something more dangerous. And for better or worse, he was on my side.
“What do you mean, what you saw?” I whispered. I was a goddamn glutton for punishment.
He paused, throwing back his drink. “The way Carmine looked when his father got close to you? He was ready to tear the room apart. Cameras, witnesses, none of it mattered to him. He didn’t care what it would cost. He just wanted you safe.” Marco’s jaw flexed. “But it was different with Peiro. Worse. The moment he stepped too close, Carmine’s whole demeanor shifted. It wasn’t strategy or a show of power. It was personal. He wasn’t looking at you like a game piece. He was afraid for you and that was real.”
“It means nothing,” I scoffed, hating how I had to swallow back the hope.
“Doesn’t it?” he challenged.
I didn’t reply. Because I couldn’t.
Marco leaned in. “Carmine wanted you to turn on the family, but I think he knew you never would. We all know. Lucky justcan’t see past his guilt. He can’t see that he let his little sister down and she survived a lot of shit to come out on top. It was never forever to that man. It was always meant to end with your return. But, Octavia, if he gets you again, he won’t let you go. You good with that?”
I sat back, unable to answer. Because I was scared of it. I wasterrifiedthat the answer I wanted to give would make Marco hate me.
We didn’t speak for the rest of the flight. But my guard dropped a little with him. Who would’ve thought my youngest brother would be the one toseeme?
As we got closer to landing, Rocco coordinated with all the men and reviewed the agenda for the long weekend. Meanwhile, Marco was already on social media, hunting for a spot to go.
“There’s a great DJ at the hottest club in LA,” Marco said.
“Not interested,” I muttered as we deboarded the plane.
When we reached the hotel, we both disappeared into our rooms. I spent the next few hours going through emails and continuing to work. The client I was meeting—Sybil Knight—was an up-and-coming dark romance author. The world her characters lived in was better than anything I’d read in a while. She danced on the edge of even darker tropes and was killing it with a very niche audience. And I wanted to help.
“Tave! We need to leave in an hour. Your dog is asking?—”
“Donotcall me a dog,” Rocco growled.
