Page 43 of Vicious Games

Lucky lets out a long sigh, dragging his chair back before reaching for mine, gently pulling it out for me to stand.

The gentlemanly, out-of-left-field gesture shocks me a bit until I remind myself that this isn’t for me but rather for his mother’s benefit.

Of course.

“Come on,Frances,” he grumbles my name as if it were a curse, tilting his head for me to follow him.

I don’t make eye contact with anyone in the room, hurrying my feet to keep up with the prick.

“I don’t need a tour,” I say as soon as we’re out of earshot. “I get it. You have a big house.”

“This isn’t our house,” he replies.

I pause mid-step. “Oh, yeah? You have two houses?”

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’ at the end.

“You’re kidding?” I narrow my eyes at him, calling bullshit.

“Nope.” Another pop.

“Wait a second. So you and your family don’t actually live here?”

“That’s what I said. Hard of hearing, are we,Frances?” he goads with a smirk.

“Then where do you live?” I ask, bypassing his taunt.

“That’s a secret.”

I fold my arms. “A secret? So, what, is this house a decoy?”

“Pretty much.” He shrugs as if that reasoning should make perfect sense to me.

It doesn’t. Nothing about this makes sense. Why would anyone need two houses? I mean, yeah, Lucky’s family is bigger than most, but still. Two? Really? Do rich people really live like this? A home for sleeping and another for eating. And what? Do they have a third house for shitting, too? Unbelievable.

“Come on,” Lucky urges, his teasing tone morphing into one of annoyance again. “Move your feet.”

“I told you. I don’t want a tour. Especially of this mausoleum.” I sigh. “I just want to go home.”

“You don’t have a home,” he says flatly. “An orphanage is not a home.” His words sting, even if they’re true. Especially since this is not the first time he’s said them.

“God, you’re an asshole.”

“So you keep reminding me.” He gestures ahead. “Now move your sweet ass before my mom comes looking for us.”

“Don’t talk about my ass, jerk.”

“Fine. I’ll just look at it instead, brat.” He has the audacity to wink, pointing to a room and expecting me to enter.

When I don’t budge, he lets out a muffled curse and trudges in front of me. I exhale sharply and follow as he enters a large living room, leading toward a set of sliding glass doors with a perfect view of the woods surrounding the back of the estate.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he pushes them open.

“Somewhere they can’t hear you scream,” he says, his voice mock-menacing.

If he thought he could scare me with those words, he’s shit out of luck. Now, if his brother Marcello had said it, I’d be terrified.

“Just come on, Frankie. We don’t have all day.”

---