Page 107 of Vicious Games

Marcello’s gaze flicks briefly to me, and that’s when Remus’s cruel grin comes into full view.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Marcello. I was just curious to see if the new addition to the family had any claws,” Remus says, flashing me a mocking smile. “And from what I can tell, she does… though she’s trying awfully hard to play nice. Aren’t you, love?”

Before I can even blink, Marcello takes a step forward, coaxing Remus to instantly slip his hand inside his jacket, grabbing something I can’t quite make out.

“Tsk, tsk, Marcello. We wouldn’t want to make a scene, now would we? What would Jude think? Or better yet, your father?” Remus taunts.

Marcello doesn’t flinch. “Look at me, Remus. Do I look like I give a fuck what anyone thinks of my actions?”

Remus holds Marcello’s icy stare for a long, tense moment, making me sweat beneath the thin layers of the Gucci dress Stella bought me.

Marcello must have won the staring competition because Remus takes a step back, his hand dropping from inside his jacket.

“Careful,cousin.The monster’s starting to peek out,” Remus purrs. “Wouldn’t want to scare all your guests away with your… how should I put it… bad temper.” He then flicks a glance over Marcello’s shoulder and winks at me. “It was nice finally meeting you, Frances. I hope to get to know you better… real soon.”

And just like that, he spins on his heel, plucks a champagne flute off a passing tray, downs it in one gulp, and tosses the empty glass behind him. The flute shatters across the marble floor, but between the joyous laughter and loud piano music, no one seems to notice—or care.

“That psycho is yourcousin?” I ask, aghast, still watching Remus disappear into the crowd.

“By marriage only. If that,” Marcello mutters darkly. “Stay clear of him. And his twin brother, Rolo.”

“Wait? There’stwoof them?!” I reply, wide-eyed, already making a mental note to stay the hell away from the Romano’s British side of the family for the rest of the night.

Marcello nods, his gaze still sharply focused on the crowd in front of us.

“Well, I guess I should thank you for scaring him off,” I say with a grateful smile once the villain is out of sight and Marcello’s shoulders relax. “He was a little… intense.”

“I didn’t scare Remus. Nothing scares Remus.”

“You did. Just now.” I giggle, feeling oddly comforted by how Marcello’s intimidating nature has shifted from scary to, oddly enough, protecting.

“No. That wasn’t fear,” he adds. “It was respect.”

“Is there a difference?” I arch a brow.

“Yes,” he says flatly, though he refuses to elaborate.

Are all the Romanos this secretive?

It always feels like I’m just getting half of the puzzle pieces whenever I talk to any of them. Well, except for Lucky. He’s always an open book.

“I’ll tell Lucky to keep the Crane twins in line,” Marcello says steadfastly. “Neither should bother you for the rest of the night.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, but I don’t miss the tightness still clenching his jaw from the encounter.

Perhaps his tension has nothing to do with Remus and everything to do with having so many people in his house.

“Let me guess,” I say, smiling gently. “You don’t like parties, do you?” He shakes his head once. “But it’s Thanksgiving,” I tease, nudging him lightly in an attempt to lift his mood. “Everyone loves Thanksgiving.”

“Not if you don’t have anything to be thankful for.”

A frown tugs at my lips at his reply.

“What’s there not to be grateful for? You have a beautiful home, a loving, tight-knit family. You have so much, Marcello. Believe me when I say some people would kill for what you have.”

“That’s what worries me,” he mutters.

---