Page 122 of Vicious Games

Frances

The ride back to the orphanage is quieter than I expected. Usually, Lucky would have some loud hip-hop music blasting through the speakers, but not tonight. The silence isn’t awkward or uncomfortable, but the kind of stillness that comes when your body and mind are exhausted, and your heart’s working overtime to keep up.

Darius is in the backseat, his eyes drooping, humming to himself as he stares out the window as if he were still high on sugar and video games. He had the best time at the Romanos. I can tell by the way his fingers keep twitching as if still pressing the controller’s buttons.

Aside from what I’m referring to as the ‘Remus Incident,’ I must admit that my time at the Romano mansion over the holiday was more enjoyable than I initially expected. And that’s all down to Lucky and his family.

Everyone there was so welcoming of me and Darius, almost as if we were an extended part of their clan. It was nice. It was more than nice. It was the family setting that orphans like Darius and I should have always had in our lives.

Perhaps before, I would have resented being faced with all that love under one roof when kids like my brother and I went without, but the opposite happened. I basked in that feeling of family, and for a minute, I pretended they were mine. Silly, I know. But ever since Lucky came into my life, I’ve learned to grab these stolen moments of joy any way I can.

Unable to stop myself, I steal a glance at the boy who’s tilted my world on its axis from the corner of my eye. One of Lucky’s hands is on the wheel, while the other rests casually on the console between us. Close enough to touch. Far enough that I don’t. My gaze lingers on the veins running through his large, strong hand, then drifts up his muscular arm, across his broad shoulders, to the vein pulsing in his neck and the tense tick of his jaw.

He’s still angry. Probably replaying what happened with his so-called cousin over breakfast. I don’t blame him for being upset. Remus had no right to talk to me like that. His words still ring in my head, sharp and uninvited like glass under my skin.

I rub at my sore wrist, a faint bruise starting to form where his fingers dug into my skin. With my index and thumb, I softly caress my medallion, wondering what Remus meant by me being Lucky’s death sentence.

Why all the theatrics? Why would he even care who Lucky spends time with?

Clearly, he didn’t like me from the get-go, probably thinking my status in life was beneath his friend and unworthy of even being invited to the Romano home. But still, to tell, no, toorderLucky to stay away from me in such a dramatic fashion, seemed like overkill.

Maybe that’s just who Remus is—a drama queen who doesn’t like other people playing with his toys. Well, fuck him. He won’t scare me away that easily, even if it’s obvious he’s got a few marbles loose in the head.

“I’m sorry,” Lucky says suddenly, his voice low and soft to prevent Darius from hearing him. “About Remus.”

I look away from my bracelet and straight at him. He’s not looking at me, but I can see the guilt written all over his face and how his grip tightens on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning pale white from the sheer force of it.

“He had no right to talk to you like that. To fucking manhandle you like that.”

“No,” I agree, “he didn’t.”

Lucky glances at me with a flicker of emotion in his eyes and says, “I don’t know what got into him. That wasn’t like him.”

“Really?” I raise a suspicious brow. “Because it felt like it came pretty natural to him. Like he’s used to talking to people that way. Used to hurting them too.”

Lucky lets out a slow breath, setting his eyes back on the road. “He has no excuse for what he did. I know that. It’s… fuck… I don’t know. He’s… been through a lot. We all have.”

That makes me bristle. “So have I. Doesn’t give me the right to be an asshole.”

“I know.”

Another beat of silence stretches between us as the car hums, attempting to fill the empty space.

“Is he… someone important to you?” I finally vocalize the probing question that has been on my mind since I met the elitist asshole. I don’t know why the question comes out as tight as it does. Maybe because I already know the answer, or because it will sting hearing Lucky confirm it.

“Yeah. He is.” Lucky nods, landing a punch on my gut. “Aside from Enzo… Remus is the closest thing I have to a best friend. He’s family.”

Family.

I guess that word means something different to him than it does to me. Family doesn’t treat the people we care about like shit. Or at least they shouldn’t.

I frown and avert my gaze, pressing my lips into a thin line just as the orphanage comes into view. Once Lucky has parked the car in front, he reaches over and gently hooks two fingers beneath my chin, turning my face toward his.

“But even family needs to know when they’ve overstepped.” His thumb brushes the curve of my jaw, soft and reverent. “I’ll make sure Remus never crosses that line again. You have my word.”

God help me. I want to believe him. And sitting here in his car, under the dim, blue wash of twilight, I almost do.

Lucky’s hand drops before I can lean into it, and I see the flicker of restraint in his eyes, the war between want and propriety. Darius is in the backseat, after all. And the last thing either of us needs is for Sister Margaretta to catch us lip-locked in his car.

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