Page 9 of A Treasure To Keep (Leone Legacy #2)

El

“ H ello? Mr. Hansley? I can’t come in today.

I’m sick.” I give him the best fake cough I can to ideally convince him that I’m genuinely sick.

I’m technically not lying. I am sick, but it’s not physical; it’s emotional.

I can’t handle seeing Andrea today. I can’t shake his facial expression when I told him what happened. I can’t lose him.

“El, you and Andrea are putting me in a tough spot with the two of you being sick.” Wait? Andrea is sick? “Get better, I guess. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Once we hang up, I make plans to hide in my room all day. I turn on my stereo, playing the music that matches my shattered heart. When this playlist ends, I’ll Russian roulette through my list of sad movies until the sun sets.

Several hours later, the playlist has three songs left when footsteps come barreling down the hall, and my door bursts open.

My mamma makes an appearance on the other side of the door, gripping the doorframe.

And I thought I knew how to make a dramatic appearance.

Maybe I am more like my mamma than I’d ever admit out loud.

“Eleanora Marie! What are you doing in bed? It’s 11 a.m. Never mind that. You have a very handsome Italian man at the door wanting to see you.” She rummages through my closet, searching for something.

“Do you own anything with a normal neckline? If you expect this man to show any serious interest in marriage, you need to wear something that shows less chest. And what is this? I cannot imagine this skirt is long enough to cover anything. Here it is! Put on this, fix your face, and come downstairs immediately! Also, you know better than to have your hair up. It makes you appear messy. A lady is never messy. Your papa and I will distract him while you’re getting ready.

Oh! I’m so excited!” She runs out of my room, practically slamming the door on her way out.

Who would be at the door that my mamma is that excited about?

After taking my time getting ready, I drag myself downstairs in the conservative scoop neck A-line dress I wore to Christmas Mass last year.

I swear, if the one man I hate more than Marco is here, I’m going to break his nose.

On the other hand, if he were, Mamma would have told me he was here by name.

Papa is laughing and shooting the shit with someone in our kitchen, and I recognize the other voice almost immediately.

Fucking. Marco. That’s almost worse than who I thought it could be.

Anger surges through me as I stomp my way into the kitchen, noticing a shaggier than normal Marco sitting at our kitchen table.

Even with his messy appearance, he’s still annoyingly charming while he drinks espresso with my papa.

Marco’s here, in my house, laughing with my papa. Papa and Marco both turn their heads toward me at the same time while I stand in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed and annoyance on my face.

Papa stands and offers me his chair, going to stand with my mamma, who’s throwing some food together. “Eleanora, please come and have a seat. Mr. Cornado was telling me about his job. It’s pretty impressive working in tech and security for such a large company.”

Yeah, ‘large company.’ Let’s call it that.

“What the fuck do you want, Marco?” Mamma slams down the knife she’s using to cut tomatoes on the cutting board. I can hear the subtle sound of the tomato juices when she does. Wow, she’s mad. Oops.

“Eleanora Marie Gallo! That is not how you treat a guest!” Yet again, my mouth has gotten me into trouble.

“No worries, Mrs. Gallo, I have the same filthy mouth. El knows about that firsthand.” He licks his lips, shame radiating through me when I clench my pussy at the thought of him eating me out. But seriously, after yesterday, he’s going to pull that?

I have to get Marco out of here. “You’re right, Mamma, my apologies. Marco, can I speak to you outside? Alone .”

“Of course. Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Gallo. Thank you for the espresso. I cannot wait to have some of that delicious food.” I am going to castrate this man.

I drag him outside into the pool house, ideally, preventing Mamma from hearing our conversation. Knowing her, she will prop open the back door, attempting to eavesdrop anyway. Hence, the reason why I shut the door.

The second the door slams shut, I whip around, facing Marco’s stupidly handsome face. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“I can’t come visit my favorite female stylist? Also, might I say, wow, your mom’s hot. Congratulations on your future. Is your nonna that hot?” He licks his lips again, except the flash of his tongue ring is missing. Did he take it out?

“What the fuck? No! You sound like a dumbass frat boy.” Every time I see him, he never surprises to shock me with the dumb things he says. Does he even have this crazy thing called a filter between his peanut-sized brain and mouth?

“Hey! Don’t diss frat boys. They’re my favorite people! The way they party is chefs kiss.” Of course, they are.

“You’re ridiculous. Seriously, what do you want?

Also, what the fuck is up with your face and hair?

Did you get mauled by a bear? And what happened to your tongue ring?

If I remember correctly, you said you’re never taking that out.

” I’ve never seen Marco anything but put together, even if he is wearing a T-shirt and jeans with his hair styled in that ‘intentionally messy’ way.

There’s nothing internally messy about anything involving his appearance today.

“Let’s go with the third question first. I got too drunk and fell down the stairs over the summer.

It chipped a few teeth. When I went to get them fixed, my dentist said it was a good idea to take the piercing out.

I realized chipped teeth are not a good look for me, and gave in to what my dentist said.

Not that it’s any of your information. To answer your first question, I wanted to come and apologize.

I fucked up yesterday and shouldn’t have dragged you into that room.

I never should have kissed you or simply tempted you.

New Year’s Eve was a one-night event. Andrea made sure I realized that.

And might I add, he punches harder than I thought he could.

” Andrea punched him? Is that where he went after leaving the store?

Is that why his jawline has a bruise? I should be impressed.

Instead, I’m annoyed that these men are playing with my heart, body, and mind.

“Andrea and I aren’t even speaking right now.

I’m the one who messed up. I wanted to kiss you.

With everything in my soul. Andrea gives me everything I could ever want, and I shat on it.

I betrayed the man I love. I was his treasure, and now I’m tarnished.

” My heart is breaking all over again. I tilt my head up when my eyes tear up. Don’t mess up your mascara, El.

“You and Andrea deserve each other. I’m going to go speak to him, but I needed to talk to you first. Even though I can’t shake off New Year’s Eve, it gave me no place to make that move.

I’m sorry.” Serious wouldn’t be a word I’d use to describe Marco.

Meaning now that he is, I know it’s a big deal.

I’m terrified to talk to Andrea. If Marco can do it first, maybe things can settle down. I need to be Andrea’s treasure.

“Fine. Go talk to Andrea. And thank you for apologizing. It’s not entirely your fault. For once.” I wait for him to brag about taking some of the responsibility. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is a regular Marco-like answer.

“Great. Can we go eat now?” Fucking. Marco.

Marco walks out of the pool house and back into my family’s house, leaving me where I’ve been standing since I dragged Marco in here. A flash of Mamma’s dress disappears from the doorway, confirming my hypothesis that she would be standing in the doorway to the backyard.

My chest tightens as I think of Andrea never calling me his treasure again. I love Andrea. I need Andrea. And for the first time, I need to depend on Marco to convince Andrea of that. That last part is what terrifies me the most. Can I depend on Marco?