Page 8 of A Treasure To Keep (Leone Legacy #2)

Marco

D omenico drives Andrea home as I sit in the kitchen with a plan to get plastered. My jaw pulses after his hit, and I’m honestly impressed he can hit that hard. Alessandro walks into the room, noticing the bottle that was full earlier is now a third empty.

“What happened?” Alessandro doesn’t know this, but sometimes I want to revert to our childhood and punch him.

Or maybe he does know that. Honestly, who cares?

Regardless, with age came self-control versus when we were kids and would fight until we were bloody or someone broke up the fight.

Ironically, it was usually Domenico. He was barely a man when Geno scouted him, meaning he’s been around since I was a kid.

His first job was ensuring Alessandro and I wouldn’t beat each other to a pulp.

He succeeded. Most of the time. I have more memories of Domenico than I do of my mamma, who left when I was young.

“El happened, that’s what. The woman drives me fucking crazy.” I pour another glass, downing it in one straight shot. I hiss at the burn in my chest the liquor leaves as it slides down.

“Why did you hire her as Luci’s stylist if you didn’t want her around?” That’s a good fucking question. One where there’s an annoyingly obvious answer.

“Because she’s the best.” When I turn toward him, he raises an eyebrow. His eyes automatically go to the bruise forming on my jaw.

“Did she do that to you? I want to say I’m surprised, but I’m not.” What do I tell him? No way in hell I’d get away with lying.

“Sure. Let’s say that.” I pour another glass in front of me, not downing it quite yet, preparing myself for the burn in my chest.

Alessandro knows I’m not telling him the whole truth, but thankfully, he doesn’t push it.

We’re always here for each other without being too warm and fuzzy.

Alessandro hums at my response, grabbing my glass and walking off in the direction of his office.

Who needs a glass anyway? The bottle is a glass. Technically.

About an hour later, and another third of the bottle gone, heels clack toward me from a distance.

The steps aren’t as short as El’s, yet my heart races with the thought of El being here.

Instead of a petite, curvy blonde walking into the space, a brunette with bright red lips and a pristine Pilates body appears in the kitchen.

El appearing would be bad, but Gabby appearing may be worse.

She slinks over to me, leaning on the countertop. Her fake lips smirk as she bats her eyelashes, her attempt at flirting. “Hi, Marco. I didn’t know you’d be in here.” Knock me out right now. Someone. Please. Where’s Andrea to finish off what he started?

“Why are you here, Gabby?” She’s here to see someone, usually whoever will claim her first.

“I thought I’d stop by. Now that I’ve run into you, we can hang out together.” She grabs a chair, bringing it close to me to sit down. Her too-short dress rides up, almost exposing herself completely.

“I was writing my to-do list this morning, and getting the clap again wasn’t on it, Gabriella.

” When I first moved here and met Gabby, she ran her way through most of our security and gave half of us the clap, myself included, unfortunately.

The second I was done with the antibiotics, I promised myself I would always wear a condom. El has been the exception.

“It’s good that I got tested earlier this month and everything’s clean.

I wish I could confidently say the same about you.

We don’t know who spread it first. It could have been anyone.

” I’m not drunk enough to forget today, but I’m drunk enough that sleeping with Gabby to get rid of my thoughts sounds decent enough.

I chug the rest of the bottle, knowing it’ll hit me later, as I grab Gabby’s hand and drag us to a spare bedroom.

No fucking way I’d let Gabby in my bed. I throw her in the room, turning to shut the door, but when I swing my body back to her, the liquor hits me.

“Holy shit.” I know I’m mumbling as I try to grab onto anything I can when I stumble my way to the bed, knowing I can’t put any effort into this.

“Marco, are you okay, baby? Here. Let me help you.” Gabby has made her way onto the bed, already naked, as she reaches for my belt.

I hum in response, closing my eyes and imagine El’s hands on my belt.

The problem is, her hands aren’t the same.

Gabby’s nails are flat and blunt on top, while El’s nails are soft and rounded on top.

“Get a fucking condom out of my wallet and ride me.” Gabby inhales to respond, but I press a finger to her mouth, a red lip print coming with it. “Shhhhhh. No talking, more riding.”

I keep my eyes closed as a condom is rolled on me, and tightness surrounds my shaft. How does this woman stay tight after all the dick she’s had? She sets a solid rhythm, grinding her hips as she rides me. Normally, I’d help her, but I’m convinced she would burn my hands if I touched her.

When I close my eyes, New Year’s Eve flashes through my head.

Mainly how El rode me as Andrea’s dick causes the perfect amount of pressure when he fucks her from behind.

I’m close to coming when my hips thrust against hers.

I spend time reminiscing about El’s drenched pussy, sweet moans, and how she tightened around me when I degraded her.

Then there’s Andrea. My dick down his throat, the pressure from his dick when we fucked El, and his hands tightening on El’s hips when I said she would come for me.

“Keep going. I’m going to come. Fuck! El! Andrea!” I know Gabby hears what I say as I come. She continues to grind against me as I empty into the condom. The last thing I remember before passing out is the condom being removed and a body cuddling up to mine.

My pounding head is the first thing that registers in the morning, reminding me of the events of the night before. Someone shifts on the bed, followed by the smell of cherry and almond, when I remember last night. Fuck. Gabriella.

“Good morning, baby.” She moans and flexes her hand across my abs, tracing my tattoos until she’s reaching toward my half-hard dick, which is currently betraying me from her touch. Not cool, Little Marco. “Let me take care of you.”

“Get the fuck out, Gabby.” I remind myself to have a serious heart-to-heart with Little Marco about when to react to Gabby's touch.

“You need to make sure your dick is on the same page if you’re going to ask me to leave.

” She goes to straddle me when I grab her, shoving her off me as I get out of bed.

I place my hand on the footboard, disoriented both by my hangover and by how quickly I got up.

Once my eyes refocus, I slide on my pants from last night, throwing the door open and leaving a naked Gabby in the bed.

She’ll either leave or find someone else to fuck.

In the meantime, I need to solve this shit between El and Andrea.

I can’t be the reason behind the end of their relationship.