Chapter 1

Marco

 

The movies got it all wrong. Scarface, The Godfather, Goodfellas were great flicks, but they only showed the splashy side of the mafia. In reality, the day-to-day operations created a metric ass load of paperwork. Depending on the day, there were contracts to write, business acquisitions to oversee, and lawsuits—always a new freaking lawsuit.

That’s where I came in. Marco Cesare Marchionni, attorney for the mob, or my family’s part of it anyway.

On paper, the Marchionni Corporation was a multi-billion-dollar enterprise with hotels, restaurants, and bars on all seven continents, but like the movies, the reality didn’t live up to the hype. The majority of our properties would have gone under years ago if not for the river of profits from other mafiosi’s illegal activities.

After Joe, my eldest brother, was murdered, Gabe had taken his place as capo of the family, and my workload had quadrupled. Not because he’d earned himself a seat at the mafia’s version of the big boys’ table, or the Fratellanza. That would have been too easy. Nope, Gabe had decided to get us out of the mob—which was a good thing—except for the paperwork.

Granted, my current office was a pool deck overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, and I’d traded in my suit and tie for board shorts. However, I had a lot more to worry about than checking items off my to-do list. One mistake, real or imagined, could mean blowing up an already escalating mob war.

Gabe clamped a hand on my shoulder. “How’s it going?”

I added another name to the ever-growing list of companies to dump and set the laptop aside. “If we get rid of anything that isn’t turning a profit without dirty money, we’re looking at selling seventy-five percent of our holdings.”

“That’s less than I was expecting.” Frowning, he glanced over the water.

My entire famn damily had come to Sicily for Gabe’s wedding, but what was supposed to be a two-week vacation had turned into an indefinite stay. I, for one, was ready to get back to my regularly scheduled life in New Orleans. However, that couldn’t happen until Gabe brokered a peace agreement with the other mob families.

“How’s Pops?”

My father lived on borrowed time. Stage IV lung cancer had seen to that. While I’d never call our relationship close, watching him suffer sucked. Not to mention, sitting around waiting for him to die made me feel like an asshole.

“He’s resting. It’s been an eventful morning.”

“So I heard. What was with all the shouting?” I loved my big fat Italian family, but I often wished they came with a mute button.

Gabe scratched his jaw. “Enzo royally screwed up.”

Between his tone, and the mention of our brother, my heartrate picked up speed. A couple of rival mob families had a problem with us walking away from the Cosa Nostra. One capo in particular demanded an ungodly pay-off, time to make alternative arrangements for his money laundering needs, and for Enzo to marry his daughter.

Praying my brother’s mistake didn’t have anything to do with him going through with the wedding to Nicolina Lazio, I asked, “Fucked up how?”

“He forgot to turn off the security cameras before he and Shanna got creative with a bottle of wine.” Gabe cracked a grin.

“The feeds from the mansion go directly to Marchionni Corp’s security offices.” My God, anyone with clearance can access the recordings. I could only imagine the hilarity that had ensued when the security team got a look at Enzo’s do-it-yourself porno.

“Yep. Needless to say, Ma had a fit.”

“I feel bad for Shanna. Ma had a problem with her from the moment she set foot in this house. I thought she’d pop an aneurysm when she found out you’d sent Enzo back to New Orleans with her.” I felt bad for Enzo as well but for different reasons. His heart had always been three sizes too small, but it’d grown when he’d met Shanna.

Gabe chuckled. “Enzo will do what he wants, regardless of Ma’s feelings on the matter, but Shanna’s liable to put his balls in a jar when she finds out about this. If she doesn’t, I’d say it’s true love.”

I admired his optimism, but to quote Tina Turner, what’s love got to do with it? “Does it matter? The situation with the Lazios isn’t going away.”

Gabe’s expression darkened. “Like I’ve said before, we aren’t living in a Jane fucking Austen novel. I’m not selling our brother’s hand in marriage to get the rest of us out of the business.”

I appreciated his sentiment even if it was naive. “For what it’s worth, Nico doesn’t want the marriage either.”

Gabe smirked. “She sure as hell acted like it.”

“Did she?” I wiggled my brows. For once, being in the friend-zone had its advantages, namely Nico had confided in me.

“One. She hung on Enzo like an ornament. Two. She was homicidally jealous of Shanna. Three—” His eyes widened, and the proverbial lightbulb came on over his head. “You mean to tell me she was behaving like a two-year old coming off a sugar bender because she didn’t want to be with Enzo?”

I tapped the side of my nose. “Never let anyone make you think you don’t have a brain beneath all that long flowing hair.”

He flipped me the finger. “Now that you mention it, her behavior did seem over-the-top.”

“What can I say? None of you know her like I do.” I’d worshipped the ground Nicolina Lazio’s red-soled, Christian Louboutins walked on since I stopped believing girls had cooties.

What man in his right mind wouldn’t? Nico was a model, a wannabe fashion designer, and had a whip-sharp sense of humor. Unfortunately for me, she’d friend-zoned me at the age of nine. Back then, she preferred older men, namely my brothers. By the time she came of age, my mother and Nico’s father had decided she was best suited for Enzo.

I absolutely disagreed, but I hadn’t gotten a vote—until now.

Stretching out on the lounge chair, I placed my hands behind my head. “Nico could marry another Marchionni.”

He winked, but the tension in his jaw ruined the effect. “You’d throw our baby brother under the bus? Dante’s still in grad school, and I’m not sure he’s had his first kiss, let alone dated.”

Joking or not, Gabe wasn’t completely wrong about Dante. While I’d spent more time playing the field than Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, and Hank Aaron combined, our baby brother had warmed the bench…mostly.

I met Gabe’s gaze and used my professional attorney voice. “One of us has to marry the supermodel. I’m willing to take one for the team.”

He folded his arms and gave me a look that reminded me way too much of our father. “No one in this family is marrying Nicolina Lazio. Capisci?”

“Capisco.” I understood he wanted to protect us, but that didn’t mean I agreed with him. Someone had to do what was best for the family, and it looked like that someone would be me.

My phone dinged with an incoming text.

I checked the screen and shot upright. Speaking of the devil in Prada.

Gabe arched a brow. “Is that panic on your face because of business or pleasure?”

“It’s personal.” I stood and waved the phone. “I need to make a call. Are we done here?”

“As long as you stay the hell away from Nico, we’re good.”

No can do, bro. “Sure, whatever. I offered a solution. You declined. What do I care?”

He gave me a curious expression and walked into the house.

Shoving my feet in my shoes, I hit redial.

Nico answered on the first ring. “Marco, thank God. Are you alone?”

“I’m working on it.” I grabbed my towel and headed down the steep path to the beach. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure what changed, but my father just announced mine and Enzo’s wedding date.” She sounded tired and stuffy as if she’d been crying. “It’s in five days.”

Keeping my voice low, I said, “Let’s just say my parents got an eyeful of how much Enzo likes Shanna Isaac this morning.”

“Oh.” She went quiet.

What the hell? Is she upset he’s with another woman? Does she have feelings for him after all?

“This only proves my point.” Nico sighed. “Enzo and I can’t go through with this wedding. We will both end up miserable and bitter.”

I wanted to run an idea past her, but it didn’t seem like the right time. Then again, was it ever a good idea to propose over the phone? “I know, Nic, I know. But what are you going to do?”

“I went with my father to speak to our priest this morning.”

My brain stopped working, so much so, I tripped over a rock and nearly face-planted. “You spoke to the man who’s going to marry you to my brother?”

“Yes.” She lowered her voice. “But he cannot perform the ceremony if there is no bride.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “I’m not following you.”

“I pretended to go along with it. When my father dismissed me, I made up an excuse I needed to see the baker. Instead, I went to visit Maria and Alessio.”

“Your old nanny and groundskeeper?” I remembered the couple. They’d practically raised her after her mother had passed away.

“Yes. I told them a little of what is happening and they have agreed to help me escape.”

This time my brain not only stopped working, but smoke seeped from my ears. “Are you crazy? Your father will have them, and everyone they love, murdered.”

“They’re leaving Trapani.” Her voice thinned. “I’m going to help them join their family in America.”

I hated this idea more than I hated her father for putting her in this position. “Do you even have a plan?”

“Alessio and Maria are meeting me on the beach with a boat, but it is too small to get to the airport on Pantelleria fast enough, which is why I need your help.”

“I’m happy to smuggle them into the US, and afterward, I’ll whisk you away to some exotic corner of the world, preferably a corner with a clothing-optional beach.” Truer words had never been spoken. I wasn’t exactly a happily-ever-after kind of guy, but a few months with Nico’s legs wrapped around my waist wouldn’t suck.

“This is not the time for jokes.” She sighed.

Who’s joking? “Sorry. Go on.”

“Remember when you said to call you if I needed anything?”

Oh boy. “Yes?”

“I need you to meet us off the coast of Formica tomorrow morning. Please tell me you have access to your family’s yacht.”

“I do.” If I can convince Gabe to let me off the compound long enough to meet her. I’d find a way. I had to. I’d always been a sucker for a damsel in distress, especially when that damsel was Nico. “What time?”

“They are meeting me before sunrise.”

I did some quick mental math. The trip to Trapani was nothing to sneeze at. Even at cruising speed, it would take six or seven hours to reach her. If I was late, she’d be a sitting duck. “Formica is too exposed. Go to our secret place on Levanzo. We can hide Alessio’s boat in the cave.”

The memory of the first time we’d run away from home together crossed my mind. We had been ten or eleven years old and determined to escape our overbearing families. The two days we’d spent on the tiny Aegadian Island had been amazing. At least until my father’s men had found us down by tracking my phone.

“Don’t forget to turn off your cell this time.” Nico laughed.

“Ha ha. Are you sure about this?”

“I have never been more sure.”

I absolutely hated this plan. She was taking an enormous risk by defying her father. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if she was caught trying to escape. “Nic, I hate to state the obvious, but airports, ferry terminals, and train stations are the first place your father will look.”

She sighed. “I know, but I’m praying he will search larger places first. If so, we will make it to Pantelleria before his men.”

Pietro Lazio had an army of employees at his disposal. Some would undoubtably head to the island. There was no way in hell we would arrive before them. No yacht could outrun a helicopter.

“Forget Pantelleria. I’m bringing you back here and putting you on the Marchionni Corporation jet. No Lazio would dare set foot in Comiso, not with the current tensions.”

Current tensions was putting it mildly. A couple of weeks ago, someone had fired shots over Enzo’s head. A few days later, armed men had been apprehended in the crowd at Gabe’s wedding. The escalating violence wasn’t restricted to Sicily. It’d spilled over to New Orleans. Enzo’s restaurant had been ransacked, and his girlfriend’s apartment had been burned down. While Pietro Lazio denied any involvement, my brothers and I believed he’d issued the orders.

“Think about it. It’s summer—there are thousands of boats around the islands.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. My father has spies everywhere, even in Comiso. If he found out I left Sicily on your family’s plane…” Nico went quiet. “It’s better if you only take us to Pantelleria.”

Rather than argue, I decided to table the conversation. I’d have hours at sea to change her mind. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.” She drew a breath. “I will text you from my burner phone once we are offshore.”

“And before you leave the house.” Reluctant to end the call, I said, “We could put Maria and Alessio on the plane, and we could take the yacht to Malta. Santorini? I hear Cyprus is nice this time of year.”

“There is no we, Marco. I have to get them to the United States, and then I must disappear. Alone.”

Yep, I hated this plan. “Can you at least tell me where you’re going?”

“It’s probably best if I don’t tell you everything.” Nico sighed again. “I should go.”

I stared at the phone after she disconnected. One way or another, sweetheart, I’m going to convince you to become my wife—for a few months, anyway.

 

 

Chapter 2

Nicolina

Elliptical machines were great cardio, but let’s be honest, working out in a gym doesn’t prepare a girl for the real world. Not when said girl is running for her life from the very people who should protect her.

I reached the edge of the manicured lawn and took one last glance back at my ancestral home. Portions of the rough stone walls had been built in the 12^th century as part of a military fortress. Fitting, considering the mansion had been my prison since I had the misfortune of being born into the Lazio family.

“Nico! Stop!” My brother, Giancarlo, charged across the grass.

I half-ran and half-slid down the stony cliff leading to the Mediterranean Sea. As a child, I’d played on these rocks. I knew the terrain, where to step, where to avoid, and how to win a race to the water’s edge.

More voices called after me, but I couldn’t stop moving. Gravity, and my force of will, saw to that. My father’s guards had joined my brother’s efforts to bring me back inside. While they had guns and knew how to use them, I doubted they’d shoot me. Then again, the hideous wedding gown my father had ordered would hide most gunshot wounds.

I reached the small, private cove and picked up my pace. Thigh muscles screaming, I sprinted across the shore toward freedom.

Though I had no earthly idea what my life would be like in a month, a year, a decade, I much preferred to look at the situation as running toward something new as opposed to running away from home.

Someone fired a warning shot over my head, but I didn’t slow. I had one chance at escape, and I intended to take it. The alternative was more than I could bare—a lifetime married to a man I didn’t love.

Alessio stood ramrod straight at the water’s edge. He wore his hat pulled down with the brim obscuring his face, and his clothes were a few sizes too big as if he’d stuffed his shirt to disguise his slight frame.

“Nico?” His bulging eyes and sagging jowls reminded me of a pug—a very frightened pug.

“Sbrigati!” I pleaded with him to hurry.

He stared at the armed men descending the cliff behind me.

“Andiamo!” Without slowing, I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the waiting boat.

Once he snapped out of his shock, the weathered old groundskeeper had me in the rickety vessel and speeding away from the shoreline before I could catch my breath.

“Grazie mille.” I couldn’t bring myself to look back. There was nothing for me in that house or with my family. Nothing but expectations, duty, and a business relationship disguised as a marriage.

Alessio nodded once. Like me, he hadn’t glanced back at the shore. Some people were like that—they preferred to look forward rather than watching what was coming for them.

Peeking her head out from beneath a tarp, Maria spoke in the only language she knew, Sicilian, “Is it safe?”

“Stay down, please. Just a little longer.” Crouching over her, I used my body to protect hers. I owed them so much. My mother had died while giving birth to me, and Maria had cared for me. With my brothers away at boarding school, and my father consumed with work, if it wasn’t for Maria and Alessio, I would have been forgotten and unloved.

It killed me to think of the trouble I’d brought upon them. No one in Trapani, or Sicily for that matter, would dare risk running afoul of my father. Pietro Lazio, the head of one of the five ruling families of the Cosa Nostra, was the most ruthless of the remaining mafia bosses. Maria and Alessio helped me because they loved me—a fact that both warmed and chilled my bones.

Maria tugged my sleeve. “We found a bag in the rocks. Is that all you are bringing?”

“It is for you.” I’d stolen from my father, but I’d had no choice. I’d given Alessio and Maria part of my allowance and modeling money since my father had fired them for being too old to do their jobs. Once I disappeared, they would have no one to help keep food on their table or a roof over their heads.

Maria opened the zipper, gasped, and shook her head. “It is too much. You must keep some for yourself.”

“I will take a little.” I knew better than to argue. She’d stuff my pockets with Euros when I wasn’t looking if I didn’t keep some money for myself.

Alessio shouted over the roar of the engine and the waves, “Will you live with us in Ohio?”

Not trusting my voice, I shook my head.

“Where will you go?” Maria grasped my hand, and I helped her to a bench seat.

“A safe place far from here.” I had a loose plan, but everything depended on getting them to safety. After that, I wasn’t sure where I’d end up. “Thank you for helping me.”

She patted my hand. “There is no need to thank us. You are like a daughter to us. We would lay down our lives for you.”

I prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

We traveled the rest of the twelve kilometers from my family home to the rendezvous point in silence. Levanzo was little more than a big rock with a fishing village dropped on it. As I’d hoped, the warm weather brought out tourists and locals alike. Boats of all shapes and sizes littered the shallow waters.

As kids, Marco and I had spent countless summers exploring the shoreline. Though I hadn’t visited our secret place in years, I remembered the way to the hidden cave.

Alessio slowed as we rounded the peninsula on the northwest side of the island.

“There, see the tall rock?” I pointed toward the rugged shore. “It’s just on the other side.”

Keeping his eyes on the water, he asked, “Are you frightened for yourself or for us?”

I dipped my chin. “Both. I don’t think my brothers were close enough to recognize you, but if my father finds out you helped me…”

A broad grin split his face. “They did not notice me in all the years I worked for your father. Now I am one of thousands of faceless old men. I do not worry they recognized me.”

That makes one of us.

Maria offered me a smile that reminded me of happier days. “Why did you leave? The entire story, not only what you think we can handle. We are old, not stupid.”

I debated sugarcoating it, but I had a shot at a new life. I didn’t want to build it on a foundation of more lies. Lately, I’d been so dishonest I could barely remember what was fact and what was fiction. “I was ordered to marry Enzo Marchionni.”

Alessio tilted his head. “He is a good man.”

“He’s a wonderful man…for someone else.” My behavior toward Enzo over the previous few months had been reprehensible. He had every right to hate me, but I prayed he would find it in his heart to forgive me once he learned the truth.

Maria gave me a knowing look. “He was never the Marchionni your heart wanted.”

“My heart doesn’t want any of them. Marco and I are just friends.” Even if I did, things would never work out between us. Marco was a player. Plus, I didn’t believe for a second Gabe would be able to break free from the mafia. No matter how sweet Marco was now, the business had a way of changing men. I hadn’t left an overbearing father to be with an overbearing boyfriend or husband.

Thankfully, Alessio interrupted the conversation. “Is that Marco?”

I shielded my eyes and squinted at the pocket yacht anchored nearest to the entrance of the cave.  We were still too far away for me to read the writing on the stern. “I’m not sure?”

“I will move closer, but you must hide.” He motioned for me to get down.

I cringed at the brownish water sloshing around and sank to my hands and knees. This is what my life has come to. Crouching in filth.

Maria draped the tarp over me. The disgusting fabric smelled worse than the bilge water. I remained as still as possible when Alessio accelerated through the choppy waters. The faster we went, the more the foul liquid splashed. If we didn’t reach the yacht soon, I’d need to take a dip in the sea, or Marco wouldn’t be able to stand my stench.

A horn blew three times and male voices carried over the waves.

Alessio removed the tarp and helped me to my feet. “These are our rescuers, yes?”

Maria chuckled. “Of course it is. Don’t you recognize them?”

“They are men now. The last time I saw them they were boys.” He continued muttering under his breath.

Grinning at their bickering, I waved to the brothers. Marco was the only person I could think of to help me, and the next to the last person my father would ever suspect.

Marco and Dante were only a year apart in age and were often mistaken for twins. They had the same dark curly hair, startling green eyes, and olive complexion as the rest of their siblings, but that’s where the similarities ended. Dante, the youngest of the five surviving Marchionni boys, rarely smiled. He had a cool, calculating way about him that made me nervous.

Marco, on the other hand…where do I start with Marco? His expression reminded me of someone who knew the punchline to every joke. He was usually grinning, and he always looked like he was thinking of sex—not surprising, he had a lot of it.

I turned my attention to the two men coming alongside the fishing boat in a dinghy.

While Dante didn’t seem thrilled to see me, he managed not to scowl. “Nico.”

“Hi, Dante. Thank you for coming.”

Grunting his reply, he helped Maria, Alessio, and their bags onto the dinghy.

Marco climbed into the boat with me. “I’ll wait with you.”

“Thank you.” I seated myself on the bench and pulled the brim of my ball cap down.

“Any trouble getting away?”

Nodding, I said, “Giancarlo and a handful of bodyguards followed me to the beach.”

Marco sat beside me and slung his arm around my shoulders. The tension in his body seemed unnatural. He was normally the life of the party, laughing and telling jokes—dirty jokes.

“We have a good head start.” I nudged his side, desperate for him to tell me everything would be all right.

Scanning the area, he walked to the back of the boat. “I’m going to drop anchor. It’ll make this floating heap of wood look like it belongs here.”

“Okay.”

“Arrange the tarp over the front seats, like you’re drying it out.” His nervous energy was contagious. By the time Dante returned, I was ready to swim for the yacht.

No one spoke as we climbed aboard the smaller vessel and sped away, but both men swiveled their heads back and forth as if waiting for the kraken to rise up and devour us.

When we reached the yacht, Dante hopped out of the boat, took my arm, and hoisted me from the gunwale to the swim platform.

Maria and Alessio peered over the railing watching us. Unlike the brothers, they seemed to be enjoying their adventure. Both wore smiles as wide as the horizon.

“We have to hurry.” Marco moved behind me, placed his hands on my ass and all but lifted me onto the deck.

I arched a brow. “Was that entirely necessary?”

Climbing up after me, he gave me an exaggerated shrug, winked, and took my hand.

I glanced down, surprised by the gesture. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’m glad I could help, but we need to get everyone out of the open.” He led us through an outdoor seating area into the sunroom with twin white couches and a large television. Next came the cockpit, with more seating and an impressive, yet simple, control panel.

The yacht was nice, but it struck me as odd the Marchionnis’ boat was so much smaller than my father’s. In fact, they seemed to live a much less lavish lifestyle than my family.

Alessio leaned closer to get a better look at the two computerized screens, a dozen switches, a steering wheel, and two silver joy sticks. “This is fancy.”

“Welcome aboard.” Dante offered the couple a quick smile before turning back to the screens. “You should get below before we get underway.”

I felt as if I should say something, but he hadn’t as much as glanced at me. “Thank you for your help.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Don’t mind him. He gets cranky if he’s away from his computer for more than an hour or so.” Marco grinned and elbowed Dante in the ribs.

“He has every right to be upset. I’ve put you both in danger.” The reality of the situation made my stomach hurt.

Shaking his head, Dante mumbled. “I wouldn’t have come along if I didn’t want to be here, but the sooner we leave the better.”

Marco set his hand on the small of my back and led us down a short flight of stairs into another seating area, galley, and a stateroom at each end of the boat. “Home sweet home for the next few hours.”

Maria and Alessio took in their surroundings. While both had worked for my father for decades, he’d never allow my nanny or his groundskeeper to go near any of his toys. Compared to the modest home they shared, the Marchionni yacht had to seem like a palace.

Marco pointed to a closed door. “Alessio, you and Maria can take that cabin.”

I turned to the couple. “You should wash up and get some rest. We have quite a journey ahead of us.”

They exchanged glances. Alessio wiggled his brows, and Maria blushed before they hurried into the stateroom and closed the door.

My mouth fell open. I vaguely remember them teasing and flirting when I was a child, but that had been so long ago I’d almost convinced myself they were saints. I mean, really. I thought of them as grandparents. No one wanted to imagine their Nonni and Nonna getting frisky.

“What’s the plan, Nico? Where are you going after Pantelleria?” Marco folded his arms.

Gawking, I motioned to the closed cabin door. “You are not even going to comment on what just happened? You? Miss a chance to make a dirty joke?”

He shook his head.

I wasn’t sure what to make of this side of him. He so rarely showed it. “It’s best you don’t know.”

His brows climbed into his hairline. “You have no idea where you’re going after you get them settled, do you?”

Times like these I hated that he knew me so well. “I haven’t decided.”

He winced and scratched his ear. “The company jet is in Comiso—”

“No.” I refused to drag him deeper into this mess. “It’s one thing for the boat to be away from the harbor, but if the plane leaves, too, it will be obvious you helped me.”

Marco tilted his head. “Do you have cash?”

Nope. I’m broke, homeless, and smell like week-old fish guts. I had a mountain of money at my disposal, but I didn’t dare access it. My father would undoubtably be keeping tabs on any bank account and credit card activity. “I have enough to get to New Orleans. The last time I was there, I hid a fake passport and the funds to get me to my final destination in a safe deposit box.”

“How very James Bond of you.” He spoke in a ridiculous British accent.

“A girl can never be too prepared.” I couldn’t help but smile. I knew it. He couldn’t be serious for more than five minutes.

“You probably want a shower. Use the other cabin and make yourself at home.” Marco looked me over and did his best to appear more amused than concerned.

Self-conscious about my appearance and smell, I hurried to the vacant stateroom. “I don’t have any clean clothes.”

Following me, Marco reached over his shoulder and pulled his T-shirt over his head.

I had a hard time bringing myself to look away from his rippling muscles. However, as much as I would have loved to get physical with Marco, I couldn’t add another complication to my life. I’d always had a crush on him, but I’d known better than to pursue it. I’d have better luck catching moonlight in a jar than tying him down.

“I’ll give you anything you need.” He tossed the shirt at me.

I hugged the still warm fabric to my chest. My God, he smells like sin. “Let me guess…including the shirt off your back?”

“And my jeans.” He perused my lower half.

Ignoring the flutters in my stomach, I squared my shoulders. “I’m good with this, thank you.”

“Okay, but if one of us is going to be running around without pants, I’d much rather it be you.” Marco winked and walked back upstairs.