Page 10 of A Treasure To Keep (Leone Legacy #2)

Andrea

T he deep sleep I normally get never came last night.

What happened yesterday, what El did to me.

To us. I’ve spent every second since returning to my apartment thinking of a logical reason why El would kiss Marco without the three of us being together.

My mind keeps spiraling with the idea that she wants him more than me.

He had more opportunities growing up, leading to a more lucrative job.

He has better genetics, leading to a naturally taller and wider physique.

He also has one of those shining and charming smiles that can make panties drop.

A knock on my door disrupts my destructive thoughts, and my heart pounds, thinking it may be El. I’m not sure I can face her right now.

Hesitantly, I set down my coffee mug, quietly walking over to the front door with heavy feet.

A shaky hand twists the doorknob, opening the door to see none other than Marco’s burly body standing on the other side.

I should be more concerned that he was able to find out where I live.

His vast technology skills tend to be shadowed by his frat boy personality.

His hair is a mess, and I can see the bruise on his face from where I punched him, matching the dark circles under his eyes.

“Marco, tu as l'air en désordre. What happened to you?”

“A punch to the face and a bottle of whiskey is what happened to me. Can I come in and talk to you?” The last thing I want to do is talk to Marco.

I knew that eventually, I’d have to talk to him.

Here is better than at the store or in front of Alessandro’s many security guards.

All taller and larger than me. At least here we have privacy.

I step to the side, allowing him in. He walks past me, the scent of whiskey with the faint smell of his cologne from last night wafting behind him, mixed with something else. Cherry maybe? “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No. Thank you. I won’t stay long.” He stands in the middle of my living room, taking in the sight of my two-bedroom apartment.

I have a simple tan L-shaped sofa, a dark blue rug covering most of the wood flooring in my living room, and a deep walnut coffee table.

My kitchen is dark yet modern, with open cabinets that match the wood of my coffee table and a marble island.

A complete one-eighty from the large home and even larger estate he shares with Alessandro.

Thankfully, Marco doesn’t pause for long before getting straight to the point.

“What happened yesterday was not El’s fault.

I dragged her into that room and cornered her.

But fuck, Andrea. I keep obsessing over New Year’s Eve and was thinking with my dick.

I’ll stay away from her if that’s what you want, and find another stylist if that would make everything better.

You two deserve to be together and happy. ”

I rub my hand over my jawline, noticing the slight stubble that grows only around my chin and upper lip.

His offer of leaving us alone is tempting.

It’s also rare to see him own up to his mistakes.

“Marco. I don’t think it’s that easy. I could tell she had the same feeling toward you on New Year’s Eve.

I tried to avoid it all this time. I don’t think I can let that go.

I don’t know if I could handle her having anything more than lust toward another man.

You two confirmed what I’ve assumed for months.

We also have the issue of you avoiding me for the last nine months.

” I study Marco’s face, noticing him think hard enough that I’m convinced smoke may come out of the top of his head any second.

Eventually, clarity fills them when he speaks again.

“I have a dumb idea.” He always has dumb ideas.

The pause after his statement is too long for comfort. “Okay?”

“Let’s do it again. The three of us. One more time to work it out of our system. On your and El’s terms. I’ll be there for entertainment.” That is a dumb idea . . . dumb enough, it may work.

“Have you spoken to El?” Would El genuinely agree to this?

“Technically, words were exchanged between us before I came here. By the way, have you had her mamma’s cooking? Holy shit, dude, it’s amazing. And her mamma is stupid hot. You’ll have to fight teenage boys off El when you two have kids.” Does this man have a single well-spoken thought in his head?

“Get her over here somehow tomorrow. We can talk about it then, the three of us. I doubt she will say yes.” But would she?

“Yes! I’ll make this right, man, I promise. You two need to be together. I’m the one that fucked it all up, and I’ll be the one to fix it.”

Marco escorts himself out, closing the door behind him. What he proposed is ridiculous, but it honestly may work. Something has to. I need mon trésor.