Page 54 of Vicious Games

I watch as she unzips her bag and spreads her books in front of her.

“You do know there are chairs and tables, right?” I tease, shoving my hands into my pockets.

“I know,” she says, already flipping open her notebook. “I just prefer working on the floor.” Then she glances up at me, her blue eyes holding a challenge. “Care to join me?”

On the floor…on the couch…on the kitchen’s marble countertop.

Shit.

Where the hell did that thought come from?

I need to lock that shit down.

Without another word, I drop down beside her and grab her textbook, forcing myself to focus.

This is just another tutoring session. Not a hookup. So whatever ideas Marcello and Enzo planted in my head, yeah, they need to die—like right now.

Frankie has never given me a reason to believe she’s even remotely attracted to me. Not a single one. She doesn’t flirt or send out any of those subtle signals that girls usually throw my way when they’re interested. If anything, she barely tolerates me.

Yep. This is just another boring-as-hell calculus session. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I should probably focus on the numbers. Not on how good she smells. Not on how cute she looks when she chews on her pencil, deep in thought. Not on the way her skirt rides up just enough to tease the soft curve of her thighs. Thick thighs that summon up images that I shouldn’t be imagining right now. Like how soft they would feel spread apart just enough to hug my cheeks.

Fuck.

I scrub a hand over my face, snapping my attention back to the textbook.

Just a tutoring session. That’s all this is.

So get your ass in gear, Romano, and take your mind out of the gutter. For both our sakes.

Chapter 8

Frances

“So, this number right here automatically means this,” Lucky explains, his tone unusually patient.

I stare at the numbers in front of me, willing them to make sense, but it’s like trying to read a foreign language.

“See?” He taps my notebook. “You take this part, plug it in here, do the calculation like we practiced, and you end up with the answer.”

“Yada, yada, yada. It’s all gibberish to me,” I groan, pushing the notebook away and dropping my head back against the couch cushion. I press my fist against my temple as if that’d somehow stop the headache from forming. “It’s useless. I’ll never get this.”

“You’re not dumb, Frankie,” he says simply. “Sooner or later, this shit will click, and it will all make sense to you.”

I lift my head and stare at him. “Did you just… compliment me?”

“No.” He scoffs like I just accused him of murder.

“You did.” I grin. “You said I’m not dumb. That’s as close to a compliment as you’ve ever given me.”

“Fine. Whatever. It was a compliment.” He exhales. “But since you’re still annoying as fuck, it evens out.”

“Jeez, thanks for the ego boost.”

“I didn’t know your ego needed lifting. You seem pretty confident to me already.”

“Another compliment.” I wag my eyebrows. “Careful, Lucky. Keep this up, and people might think you actually like me.”

---