Page 28 of Vicious Behaviors (The Next Vicious Generation #3)

“Yes, sir.” I smile, tight and bitter. As he turns back toward his patrol car, I pause with the key halfway in the ignition and ask, “Officer, one question.” Thankfully, he turns. “Do you know who bought these establishments?”

He huffs. “Who do you think? Same people who own half of Chicago. The Romanos.”

My stomach drops instantly. I swallow hard as I look across the street and find Marcello still standing there, his phone lowered now, a smug little smile tugging at his lips as he ends the call.

No. No fucking way. There’s no possible way he knew I’d be here. No way he would have gone through all the trouble of buying property on both sides of the street, just to catch me in the act. Right?

Those are the lies I feed myself as I pull out and drive home. Because I know what comes next. After his lunch, he’ll pick up Annemaria. And when he’s with her, I always end up losing him anyway. The man is paranoid. And now he’s making me paranoid.

Ugh. It’s official. I despise this man.

“Stella!” I wave to Marcello’s sister the second she walks into the gym later that night.

She’s all smiles, dressed in skintight black leather pants and a cropped top that leaves nothing to the imagination.

It’s mid-February, and Chicago is deep in its usual winter mood.

Gray skies, snow piling up in gutters, and a biting wind that cuts through even the thickest coats.

Still, the cold doesn’t seem to bother her.

She peels off her leather jacket and tosses it toward Rico, who catches it with a grin.

“Hi,” she says brightly. “Sorry, I was such a brute this morning. I’m not exactly what you’d call a morning person.”

“I figured as much. I’m just glad you came. Carmine will be thrilled.”

“Is he here?” she asks, peering past me toward his office.

“He just ran out to grab something to eat, but I’m sure he’ll be back any minute now.”

“Then I guess I’d better go change.” She smirks, swinging her duffel bag over her shoulder and heading toward the locker room.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t make it far, since the bane of my existence steps into her path with an immediate scowl. “What are you doing here, Stella?” Marcello asks.

“What does it look like? I came to train with Izzie.”

His frown deepens as he turns his glare on me with disdain and distrust. He then grabs Stella’s arm and pulls her into a secluded corner of the gym. I’m too far away to hear what he’s saying, but I suspect it’s some variation of Marcello warning Stella to stay away from me.

I start casually walking the gym floor, pretending to check equipment while drifting closer.

“Mar, you know I love you, right?” Stella says, resting a hand on his shoulder. “So hear me out because what I’m about to say comes entirely from a place of love. You, dear brother, need to get laid. Like, immediately. Preferably today.”

“This isn’t a joke, Stella.”

“I know it isn’t because I’m not laughing.” She grins at him.

“Just go home. I don’t trust her.”

“And I’m telling you… you don’t trust anyone. Why should Izzie be any different?”

“Because she is,” he grunts.

Stella’s hand drops from his shoulder.

“You’re seeing things that aren’t there. Just chill, Mar. Relax. Isn’t this gym supposed to be like your happy place?”

“Not anymore,” he mutters, turning his attention back on me.

I spin around quickly, pretending to check my schedule on the clipboard, just in time to avoid his scrutinizing gaze. Only once I’m sure he’s no longer watching do I glance back toward them.

“But since you’re here,” Marcello says, lowering his voice, “there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t act surprised. I know you know exactly what I’m about to say.”

“I have no idea,” she replies, feigning innocence.

“What’s going on with you and Petrov?”

“You’ll have to be more specific. There are lots of Petrovs.”

“But only one that you let manhandle you.”

“Kill did not manhandle me,” she snaps.

“Kill?” Marcello runs a hand down his face. “Please don’t tell me that’s his nickname.”

“Hey, I didn’t give it to him. Don’t look at me,” she pouts.

“But I am looking at you. You didn’t put that asshole in the ground when you had the chance. He kidnapped you, Stella.”

“Technically, he didn’t kidnap me. It was Frankie he wanted.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” he asks in outrage.

“You weren’t there, Mar. You didn’t see how much his family wanted Frankie back in their lives.”

“Enough to put a bullet in you,” he groans. “or did you forget you got shot just so they could have their big family reunion.”

“You can’t put that on Kill. It wasn’t his fault his guy got triggerhappy. Besides…Kill handled it.”

“And now you’re making excuses for him. That’s not like you,” he says, eyeing his sister with concern.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not acting like myself? Please! What about you? You’ve been off for over a month now.”

He bows his head and grunts, “I know. I’m… working on it.”

“Well, work harder. And don’t take your frustrations out on me. I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” he challenges, arching a brow. “Because Anna’s been talking to me. She’s worried about you.”

“She told you that?” Stella’s voice softens at the mere mention of her sister.

“She did. She knows you’re hiding something from her. And now I think you’re hiding something from me, too.”

“I’m not hiding anything, because there is nothing to hide. Open book, remember?”

By the way Stella flashes her teeth at her brother, she’s definitely hiding something.

Marcello stares into her eyes, and then he slowly steps back away. “You’re lying. You never lied to me before.”

She opens her mouth to defend herself against his accusation, then shuts it just as quickly. Her jaw tightens. “You know what?” she snaps. “You’re so not my favorite person right now.”

With that, she spins on her heel and storms toward me, duffel bag bouncing against her hip.

“Sorry, Izzie,” she mutters. “I’m not feeling up to it today after all. Raincheck?”

“Of course,” I nod. “Are you okay?”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she huffs out.

I shake my head. “Only child, I’m afraid.”

“Consider yourself lucky. They’re nothing but a pain in the ass most days.”

With that, she waves me off, Rico already standing by with her leather jacket in hand.

Well, that went well. How am I supposed to build a friendship with Stella if Marcello is always getting in my way?

Pissed at him for ruining my plans, I make the mistake of locking eyes with him. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t so much as frown. He just glares. He then lifts his chin, his eyes never leaving mine, and curls a finger in that slow, deliberate way that orders me to follow him. And damn it, I do.

I place my clipboard on the counter and glance around the gym, pretending to stretch out a sore shoulder, but my feet are already obeying Marcello. He turns his back, walking out the door and down the stairs. He doesn’t check to see if I’m following. He knows I will.

My heart kicks into high gear as I push through the same door thirty seconds later, his scent still lingering in the stairway. Clean sweat. Soap. Something darker I can’t name.

I step onto the empty street only to see Marcello’s shadow disappear into the narrow alley behind DeLuca’s Gym.

I follow him and find a rusted dumpster sitting to the left, an old fire escape to the right, and Marcello in the middle, his back still turned.

Until it’s not. He spins slowly, as if counting the seconds it would take me to get here.

I shouldn’t have followed him. Scratch that—I should have. That’s the job. But standing here now, in this abandoned alley while Marcello stalks me as if he were the goddamn devil himself, I suddenly question every choice that has led me to this moment.

“I told you to stay away from my family,” he growls, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that makes my spine tingle in a way it absolutely should not. It’s humiliating how quickly my skin reacts to his voice alone.

I cross my arms, keeping my back straight and my head held high. “Is it my fault that your sister wants to train with me?”

His eyes narrow, sharp enough to cut glass. “Yes. It is.”

“This power trip you got going is getting old. You don’t get to dictate who I speak to, Marcello.”

He stops just inches from me, making the alley feel smaller. Hotter. My skin prickles with awareness I try to ignore.

“I do when that someone is you,” he says. “And when you show up in places you don’t belong.”

“And yet, here I am. I’m not going away. Deal with it.”

A beat passes between us. He doesn’t move, and neither do I. It’s a silent war, and none of us wants to blink first.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Take it however you want. You can’t intimidate me,” I quip back.

“Can’t I? I’m sure I can find a way,” he adds, his gaze dipping to my lips, feeling like a match dragging across my skin.

Then it happens. The air between us shifts. As if something invisible is coiling tight, waiting to snap. I can feel it in my chest, my stomach… lower.

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t back away. And neither do I.

Marcello looks at me as if trying to decide whether to kiss me or kill me. And God help me, but I’d take either right about now.

I’m supposed to expose him for his evil ways, not crave his stare as if he already owned me.

“What is your problem with me?” I ask, my voice coming out soft and tentative.

“You’re trouble. I can smell it.”

“You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

“No,” he murmurs. “But I’m close.”

Marcello steps forward again, forcing me back until my shoulders hit a brick wall behind me. His hand lifts, and for a terrifying, thrilling second, I think he’s going to touch me.

“I don’t know what your game is,” he rasps, placing his hand flat on the wall, his face just inches away from mine. “But you’re playing with fire.”

My nervous laugh comes out short and breathless. “Is this your attempt to scare me away again?”

“No.” His eyes fall to my lips again, and this time I can’t help myself but to stare at his mouth too. “If I really wanted to scare you, I would have already. I wouldn’t have a choice.”

For one split second, I forget who I am. Forget the hours of surveillance. Forget that this man is my target. Forget that he is the enemy.

“We always have a choice,” I say on bated breath.

“Not me.”

When his other hand accidentally brushes mine, every nerve in my body lights up. My heart beats a mile a minute as I stare into his eyes, a sparkle of life now embedded in that stormy sea of blue.

We’re so close that I feel his breath fanning my cheeks. My lips part, just a little, and I find myself inching closer, as if baiting him to kiss me. But he can’t kiss me. And I shouldn’t want him to.

My hand finds purchase on his chest to keep him back, not because I’m afraid of him, but because I’m afraid of myself.

“I should go,” I breathe out before I make the biggest mistake of my life.

“That’s the first smart thing you said all night.”

Marcello doesn’t move. And neither do I.

His fingers continue to brush against mine—lightly, deliberately—as if testing the fragility of the moment between us.

When I don’t pull away, his hand lingers, the pad of his thumb tracing a slow line across my knuckles, then to the inside of my wrist, drawing little circles on it.

My breath catches at his light touch. His other hand pulls away from the wall just enough to play with the end of my ponytail, winding the strands slowly around his finger, then letting them fall.

“You’re not leaving?” he murmurs, his voice a smoky whisper that wraps around me like a second skin.

“Neither are you,” I reply, just as breathless.

His eyes flick to my lips once more, only this time he leans down until his mouth hovers over mine, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath, the tension between us vibrating like a live wire.

However, Marcello doesn’t kiss me. He just stays there, suspended in the ache, tormenting me with the possibility.

My heart slams against my ribs as I yearn to close the distance between us.

His mouth is so close that I can almost taste him.

It’s only when I close my eyes, giving him my silent permission for him to take me out of my misery, that he speaks again.

“Then let me help you.”

Just like that, he steps back, turns away, and walks off, leaving me alone in the alley, flushed, breathless, and burning with everything he left undone.