Page 62 of Vicious Games

Me:That’s sarcasm in my tone, fyi.

Lucky:Oh, I know.

Lucky:Trust me, you’ll be interested in what I’m about to offer you.

Lucky:It’s a once-in-a-lifetime deal.

Me:I doubt anything your Machiavellian mind has concocted interests me.

Lucky:We’ll see.

Lucky:Goodnight, Frankie.

Lucky:Don’t dream about me too much.

Though he doesn’t add the laughing emoji to the end of his text, I know he’s taking great pleasure in my pain.

I toss the phone onto the bedside table like it burned me.

Why does even a stupid emoji from him feel like a challenge?

Whatever he wants to tell me tomorrow, I won’t fall for it.

Nothing Lucky could offer me is worth the chaos that comes with him.

Not even the kiss I can’t stop replaying in my head.

Or the fact that I still feel it clinging to my lips as if it belonged there.

Chapter 9

Luciano

I’m not usually impatient. When it comes to my pranks at least, I’ve got the patience of a saint. Some of them take weeks to pull off, and I never rush. Timing is everything.

So yeah—patience? I’ve mastered it.

Just… not today.

Today, I’m done waiting because there’s no damn way I’m letting Mother Superior’s golden girl throw her life away on vows that she isn’t even sure she wants.

Frankie said it herself—she doesn’t have all the facts. And if that’s the case, she can’t possibly make a decision that permanent.

Look, I might have a bone-deep grudge against nuns, but I don’t hate Frankie. She drives me up the wall, sure. Gets under my skin, absolutely. Always has a comeback, always challenges me, and makes me a little unhinged at times… check, check, and triple-check. But I wouldn’t wish a celibate life on my worst enemy. Let alone on a girl who hasn’t even had a real taste of living yet. Who the hell signs up for that?

Sister Agnes said I should work on being more charitable. Well, fine. Consider this my good deed for the year—saving Frankie O’Malley from making the biggest mistake of her life.

I’m already at the St. Mary’s fountain, kids buzzing past me like gnats, but no sign of Frankie.

Fuck.

Don’t tell me she’s going to bail on me again. No way in hell I’m letting that happen.

I pull out my phone and tap the location app I may or may not have secretly installed on her phone.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Borderline stalker behavior. But after getting stood up once, I wasn’t about to let it happen to me a second time.

When the screen loads, I frown. She’s in the damn chapel.

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