Page 98 of Vicious Games

“Looks like karma had a way of dealing with those boys that messed with your sister.”

I pull my hand back, leaning into my seat, turning my face away from her penetrating gaze.

“Guess so,” I say curtly, shoving the key into the ignition again.

This time, Frankie doesn’t stop me. She lets me drive us to our little piece of solitude, away from all the madness that comes from being a Romano.

Chapter 15

Luciano

Thankfully, we fall right back into our normal routine the second we step into Jude’s house. This place… it does something to us. It’s like we leave all our baggage at the door and justbe.

We study for a while, and when Frankie can’t stand to see another number on the page, I grab her hand and drag her to the kitchen.

Today, I actually got our housekeeper, Lourdes, to make one of my favorite Italian dishes—Osso Buco.It’s basically a veal shank braised with vegetables and wine, served over mouthwatering risotto.

I know Frankie loves to cook, but not seeing her all weekend made me antsy to take advantage of every single second we had. Hence why I didn’t want to waste time watching her cook tonight, so I brought dinner ready and packed from home.

“This smells delicious.” Her eyes go half-mast when I pull her plate out of the microwave.

“Tastes even better, trust me,” I wink, setting the plate down on the kitchen island.

She plants her sweet ass on one of the stools, leaving space for me to take the one beside her.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously when I don’t heat up my own plate.

“Not today.”

She frowns for a second, but the moment that first forkful hits her tongue, she forgets the whole world—including me.

“Oh, my God,” she moans, not knowing how her little sounds always get my blood running hot.

“It’s good, right?” I chuckle, fighting the urge to shift in my seat.

“Are you kidding me? This is what I want my last meal to be. So good!” she moans again, going back for seconds as if she were starving.

“I’m glad you like it,” I say, resting my chin on my fist just to watch her slowly savor every bite.

“I emailed you the recipe. Took me promising Lourdes my firstborn, but I knew you’d appreciate it.”

“Firstborn, huh?” she teases, but then almost orgasms with the next bite of veal.

“Yeah, totally worth it.”

I laugh because this is how Frankie gets when she loves what she’s eating. Other girls whip out their phones, take a pic for the ‘gram, nibble at half the plate, and then push it aside. Not my Frankie. Eating good food is like a sacred ritual to her. This is her religion. Everything else falls to the side when there’s a well-cooked meal in front of her.

“I can’t wait to try making this,” she says, completely immersed in the experience. “I wonder what kind of other vegetables I could sneak into it.”

“Just send me the list, and I’ll get them for you when you wanna try,” I offer easily. “Though I gotta warn you, Lourdes usually takes about three hours to nail this dish.”

“Oh.” She pouts, probably counting the measly hours we usually manage to scrape together. Four—that’s all we get. Four pathetic hours after school, and that includes driving back and forth.

Frankie always has to be home by seven. Eight at the very latest. Though the one time she pushed it to eight, she said Sister Margarette was starting to regret ever putting us together to “study.”

Tough. Too late now.

Though I’m sure, the old hag would lose her mind if she knew half the time we use it to make out instead of doing math.

---