Dammit.”

Not again.

I look out my bedroom window at the busy Chicago street below. Cars and pedestrians hustle by, either to work or church or shopping or whatever it is normal people want to do with their Sunday mornings. Not my problem nor my business in any case — except for the tall man lingering on the corner outside of his black car, leaning against the hood and staring at my goddamn front door.

Marcus.

His dark head tilts upward as if he feels me staring at him. I twist away behind my curtains to avoid his eyes. My apartment is on the fifth floor, so I doubt he saw me but then again, it’s his job to know exactly which window to look at.

He’s my family’s bodyguard. And my fuck buddy. Former fuck buddy, I should say, but Marcus hasn’t quite got that little detail into his thick skull yet.

I stomp my heel. “Go the fuck away,” I mutter to myself, needlessly waving my hands to banish him.

I take another quick peek through the curtains and heave a thick sigh at him. He’s not going anywhere. He’s going to stand there until I come outside and I’ll have to once again tell him how so very not interested I am in him or his cock he so delightfully keeps sending me unsolicited pictures of.

I don’t have time for this shit.

I grab my black denim jacket and throw it on over my peach tube top and blue jeans. If Marcus isn’t going to let me walk out my front door undisturbed then I’m going to have to find another way out of here.

With my small purse clenched between my teeth, I throw open my kitchen window and climb outside onto the fire escape. Before I can even tell myself not to, I stupidly gaze downward at the alleyway below. My nose recoils from the stench of trash, oil fumes, and other shit but it’s either this or talk to Marcus.

I’ll take the other shit.

I slam the window closed behind me and start my slow trek down the ladder. Heels were a bad idea in hindsight but at least I’ll look good when I get down there. Assuming I don’t fall and kill myself in the process but that’d still be a better alternative than enduring yet another awkward encounter with Marcus “Do you like that, baby?” Donner, my father’s favorite errand boy.

Sure, it was fun at the start. Two silly teenagers doing silly things behind my family’s backs. Sneaking off to the abandoned campgrounds while my half-brothers launched firecrackers at each other on the Fourth of July. Hooking up after the homecoming game and on prom night and the day before he got shipped off to basic training and… okay, again when he got back and then again when he came home from Afghanistan and yeah, sure, we had sudden bursts of silly sex-having fun over the nearly ten years he’s been my father’s full-time bodyguard.

But it was just sex. Fun, silly, no strings sex.

Or so I thought.

When we were young(er), Marcus knew how to take no for an answer. He’d shrug his broad shoulders, turn around, and snap his fingers like The Fonz. Some eager girl within earshot would look up all misty-eyed and she’d drop to her knees for him. Hell, he could still do that easily. He’s got that tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him but there comes a time in a girl’s life when sneaking around with the bad boy just ain’t that fun anymore.

It’s usually around the time her father gets thrown in jail for criminal conspiracy to commit murder.

What can I say? Girl stuff can be complicated sometimes.

I release my grip on the ladder, letting gravity take me the rest of the way down into the alley. It’s only a couple of feet but I just barely stay upright on my wobbling heels as they clack with the concrete. My balance returns to my limbs and I hightail it out of the dirty alleyway to find a cab while slipping on a pair of black sunglasses to hide my shame. No way I’m risking going to my car with Marcus parked right outside my building’s private garage.

It’s a quick ride through the city to Moira’s Cafe, the one happy place I still have in my hectic life right now. Hot and delicious breakfast, cold and sweet mimosas, and my two best friends in the entire world, Nora Payne and Melanie Rose. It’s where we go to leave our troubles behind, vent our frustrations, and just be there for each other through thick and thin.

And right now, my life is a little on the thick side.

I pay my driver and step out onto the curb, eagerly wading through the passing crowd to make it into the cafe. As I step inside, I take a deep breath, letting the very smell of the place start its loving, soothing embrace in me. I’m here. I made it past Marcus’ annoying, watchful eyes. Just a few more breaths and I’ll forget all about him.

I walk through the entryway where two hostesses stand, one with their back to me as she folds a few napkins.

“Good morning!” the other says, stopping me. “Do you have a reservation?”

I laugh as I slide my sunglasses off. “You must be new here.”

The other hostess spins around with the sound of my voice and gently bumps the other girl out of the way. “I’m sorry, Ms. Argento, you can go on in. Your party is waiting,” she says with an apologetic smile.

The new girl’s face turns pure white.

“That’s all right.” I wave a hand. “Don’t sweat it, hun.”

Her smile inches back up as I continue through the restaurant. I tune an ear backward to catch the tail end of their conversation.

“That’s the one I told you about!”

“Oh, god. I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

“Didn’t you recognize her?”

“She was wearing sunglasses!”

I grin and carry on. I’m not offended at all. I’ve never been one to get upset when someone doesn’t recognize my face but I do love it when they turn pale at the mere mention of my family’s name.

A little bit of fear, a little bit of awe, and a whole lot of respect. That’s the reaction the Argento family always gets. Or it was until my father got arrested and the spotlight on my family became less about our contributions to the community and more about murder and mafia conspiracy.

But that’s a problem for Tomorrow Trix.

Today Trix is about to get drunk.

I round the corner and weave my way through the restaurant toward our table in the back. I hear Nora first, her tiny voice just barely reaching over the soft rumble of others nearby. Melanie is to her left, sitting back in her chair in full listening mode with her arms folded over her chest and her eyes soft on Nora’s worried face.

“It’s a little weird, right?” Nora asks.

Melanie scratches the back of her dirt-brown head. “No, that’s just guy stuff, Nor.”

“Are you sure?”

I stop by the table, grab the first untouched mimosa off the center, and down it with a few long, hard gulps. Juice and bubbles blend in my throat, surging all the way down to rest in the pit of my stomach. Warmth spreads out into my limbs. It’s a good start but we’re gonna need a lot more of these.

When I set the empty glass down, both pairs of eyes are locked on me.

“Hey, guys.” I lower into the last empty chair. “Please continue,” I gesture at Nora.

She raises a brow. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

A fresh tray of mimosas appears in front of me and I flash a wink to the blessed server for his impeccable timing.

“And a thank you to you, kind sir,” I say as I grab one.

“Thanks, Roger,” Nora says, her eyes barely leaving me. “Seriously. Trix. Are you okay?”

I glance at him as he walks away. “Are you ever gonna tell us how you know that guy?”

“It’s a… long story.”

“Fair enough.” I take a quick sip before answering. “I had to leave my place via fire escape this morning.”

Melanie leans forward. “And you have my attention.”

“At what point does mild infatuation become creepy stalking?” I ask.

“The second it makes you uncomfortable,” she answers. “Is Marcus still bothering you?”

“Yes. I’m starting to consider hiring a bodyguard to fend off my bodyguard. It’s ridiculous. I can’t live like this anymore. Every morning, he’s there, waiting outside my door, wanting to talk to me. Every night, he’s blowing up my phone, wanting to talk to me — but we all know he doesn’t just want conversation, ya know what I mean?”

Nora nods. “Can you get a restraining order?”

“Easier said than done,” I say. “If I did that, I’d have to distance myself from my entire family, too. That’s the last thing I want, especially since I’m joining the business soon.” I exhale, shaking my head. “Anyway, I don’t even want to think about it right now. What’s going on with you, Nora?”

“Well…” Nora sighs. “I’ve never lived with a man before.”

I chuckle. “Trouble in Clive-a-dise already?”

“Not trouble. Just…” She bites her lip. “Okay. So, obviously, I asked Clive to move in with me on account of him being… you know… homeless.”

“Right.”

“And I was honestly a little happy about the homeless thing because I really like my place the way it is and I didn’t like the idea of a man’s stuff clashing with mine but since he has no worldly possessions, it’s not a problem.”

I squint. “So, what’s the problem?”

“He has no stuff!” she says, her eyes twitching with panic.

I look at Melanie. “What am I missing here?”

“About three more mimosas,” she quips from the edge of her mouth.

Nora huffs. “He has no stuff, so he has to use all of my stuff.”

I nod. “Ah, it all comes together.”

“My shampoo, my combs, my towels, my coffee mugs.”

“Wait, you don’t like him using your coffee mugs?” Melanie asks, laughing.

“I’ll admit, it had its cuteness at first,” Nora says. “I mean, how many times have you seen a six-foot-tall muscular Adonis sipping out of a hot pink mug that says boss lady on it?”

I snort. “Daddy’s awesome.”

“Anyway, I’m dragging him out this week to pick up some new stuff.”

Melanie tilts her head. “Thus fulfilling the horrid prophecy of him bringing a bunch of his man stuff into your place and clashing it with yours,” she points out.

Nora nods. “Yes.”

“So, you basically created a problem because you don’t like to share?”

She pauses. “… Yes?”

Melanie turns in her chair to look at me. “Okay, back to you.”

“Nuh-uh,” I say, forcing down a belch. “Not me. Let’s do you.”

She shrugs. “I got nothing.”

“Not nothing. How’s your new book coming along?” I ask.

“It’s…” Her voice fades into a long, barely audible growl. “Not.”

Nora throws on a sympathetic face. “I’m sorry, Mel.”

“It’s fine,” Melanie says. “It’ll get there. Eventually. Someday. Probably. Just seems like every book lately is harder to write than the one before it and I can’t figure out why.”

I glance at Nora, locking eyes with her. “Well…” I say slowly, “maybe this is just your brain’s way of telling you to take a break. Maybe take that cruise vacation you’ve been talking about for years?”

“Or maybe you can try dating again?” Nora adds.

I furrow my brow at her but she doubles down.

“It’s been about five months since the divorce, right?” she asks. “Maybe a little romance will help you write some romance?”

Melanie scoffs. “Romance is dead.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Nora argues. “Look at me and Clive.”

“He tried to steal from you,” I say.

“Yeah, but…” She winces. “The rest is pretty good.”

“How about your secret admirer?” I ask Melanie. “Anything from him? Or her?”

“Not since my book signing,” she answers with a pout.

“You should try and make contact.”

“How?”

I think for a moment. “The flowers! They come from the same place every time, right?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“Go there and give them your number. Tell them to pass it along the next time someone schedules a delivery for you. Who knows? They might call and your soulmate may be on the other side.”

Nora swoons. “Oh, yes! Yes! Do that. I like that.”

Melanie frowns. “Sounds like the setup to a really shitty TV movie.”

“Or… a really fun porno,” I suggest.

“I like porn.” She nods as the server returns to take a few empty glasses off the table. “I can do porn.”

The server pauses above her, his cheeks brightening.

Melanie glances up at him. “You don’t know me.”

He spins around and rushes off with his tray.

Nora smirks. “If porn is all you’re looking for, isn’t there a certain someone we all know who’d be more than willing to—”

“No,” Melanie snaps.

“Mel, come on. You know he’d—”

“No.”

I nod. “You guys did start out casual,” I say.

“And look where that ended.” Melanie snatches up a new mimosa. “No.”

“You can draw a line, Mel,” Nora says. “Just don’t cross it again like last time.”

“No, you don’t understand. We had lines before. Very specific lines.” Melanie looks down. “I can’t trust myself around him and Rob… well, he has his fair share of weaknesses, too.”

She mimes holding a liquor bottle and tilts it in a quick glug-glug motion.

Nora leans back in surrender. “Okay. Fine. Ignore the suggestion. I’m just trying to get you laid. You did the same for me.”

“You’re welcome. And I appreciate the effort, but…” Melanie waves a hand. “I’ve gone five months without him and I don’t want to break that winning streak.”

I count in my head. “Five months?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“Didn’t you kick him out six months ago?”

She presses her pink lips together. “… Yes.”

Nora’s jaw drops. “You naughty girl.”

I laugh. “Wait. When exactly did you guys hook up last?”

Melanie hides behind her glass. “We might have done a little something… after…” her voice drops, “our divorce hearing...”

I blink. “You fucked Robbie after your divorce hearing?”

“We were excited.” She glances at our shocked faces. “Hey, only Judy can judge me.”

Nora and I chuckle to ourselves. Classic Melanie and Robbie. All heat and no forethought.

Melanie points at us. “I know all your dirt and I’ll write it into a book. Just watch.”

“Anyway…” I clear my throat and reach for my drink.

“Speaking of dirt,” Nora says, her brow pinching. “Clive and I are meeting with HR tomorrow.”

Melanie winces. “Did you guys get caught doing something dirty at the office?”

“No,” she answers. “We are doing the smart thing and getting ahead of it by reporting our relationship. I looked into the process already and, luckily, the policy I passively put into place when I formed the company years ago looks favorably at open and responsible inter-office relationships, so a big thank you to Past Nora for doing that.”

“Hear hear!” I raise my glass and take a long sip. Really, I’ll take any excuse I can right now to get good and blitzed.

“It should work out all right,” Nora says. “Still, I’m a little nervous about it, though.”

Melanie nods. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Nor.”

“Yeah,” I say. “You and Daddy will be just fine.”

Nora’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t like us teasing her about her newfound kinky sex life as a submissive but — come on — she’s literally wearing a collar right now. I am happy for her, though. Very happy. Maybe even a little envious.

“Oh!” I set my glass down and reach for my purse. “I almost forgot…” I snap it open and dig inside for the white envelope pinched between my wallet and my phone. “I have something for you all…”

They both lean forward and their eyes widen as I withdraw the four rose gold tickets from inside.

Nora snatches one from my hand. “It’s charity auction season already?” she asks. “Can I bring Clive?”

“Please do,” I say.

She squeals softly as she takes another one. “Yay! He’s gonna love this.”

Melanie slides one free with a frown riding down her cheek. “Just the one for me this year,” she mutters.

I stuff the fourth ticket back into the envelope. “Well, let me know if that changes. I have an extra ticket,” I say.

“I doubt it. Although…” She perks up. “I can’t remember the last time I went to one of these single. This might work out in my favor.”

“You in a tight dress surrounded by a bunch of drunk, rich dudes?” I quip. “If you don’t get laid, then there is officially no god.”

Melanie fans herself with her ticket. “In that case, I definitely won’t miss it.”

I glance up and my smile drops to the floor.

Marcus fucking Donner is standing outside the restaurant with his hands cupped against the windows, his eyes scanning the tables for yours truly, obviously.

“Ugh, come on!” I groan.

Nora and Melanie swivel in their chairs, following my stare along the side windows.

“Is that Marcus?” Nora asks.

Melanie nods. “Wow, this guy…”

I sulk in my seat but it’s too late. He’s looking right at me with those dark eyes, flexing that stiff, chiseled, underwear model jawline.

“How did he even know I was here?” I whine.

“I mean…” Nora shrugs, “we’ve had brunch here every Sunday for like five years.”

“Okay, okay.” I exhale hard. “I know how he knew.”

“Just saying…”

I stand up from my seat. “I’ll be right back,” I say with a grunt.

Melanie slides the napkin off her lap. “Do you want some backup?”

“No, I can handle it.” I straighten my top, trying to look strong and capable but seriously — fuck this bullshit. “Thanks, though.”

I make my way slowly through the restaurant, weaving around the tables while Marcus’ eyes follow my path to the entrance. I point forward, gesturing for him to meet me out there and he backs away from the windows.

I step outside and he’s waiting for me on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and an annoyed twitch on his mouth.

“Hey, Marcus,” I say, crossing my arms as a gust of cool wind passes between us. “What’s up?”

“Where have you been?” he asks.

“Around,” I answer. “Why?”

“You’re avoiding me, that’s why.”

“No, I’m not. I’m right here.”

“And this morning?” He shifts closer as I look away to hide my wince. “You can’t keep dodging me like this, Trix.”

“No one’s dodging anybody. I walked right past you. You didn’t see me?”

He raises a bullshit-sensing brow. “We need to talk.”

“We’re talking right now,” I say. “And honestly, I don’t really think we have much to say to each other. I asked you to back off and I did it nicely.”

“You didn’t really give me much say in that,” he says.

“Welcome to the world of consent, Marcus. It doesn’t matter how badly you want somebody. Unless you’re both on the same page, it ain’t happening. And we ain’t happening again. It’s over.”

“Okay. Fine.” He exhales. “I didn’t want to do this here but you leave me no choice.”

I roll my eyes. “Do what?”

Marcus drops down on one knee.

“Beatrix Argento…”

My jaw falls open. “What are you doing?”

He holds up a small, red, velvet box, instantly making several pedestrians come to a grinding halt on the sidewalk beside us.

“Marry me,” he says.

The bystanders break into a wave of happy gasps and cooing sighs while I grind my teeth hard.

Marry me. He didn’t even bother to phrase it as a question.

I deflate as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I spit.

Marcus sits there in total silence, just staring up at me with hard, expectant eyes.

“Get up,” I tell him.

He doesn’t move.

“For god’s sake, Marcus, get up.”

I reach down, grabbing his jacket and forcing him up off the sidewalk.

“Move along,” I bark at the grimacing crowd. “Don’t you people have lives?”

They all scurry off like frightened cats as Marcus adjusts his jacket.

I grit my teeth. “Marcus, what the hell are you thinking?”

He rubs the stubble on his chin. “You’re not a young woman anymore, Trix.”

My face screws up. “I’m thirty.”

“Exactly. It’s about time for you to grow up and do your duty to the family.”

I take a step back. “My what?”

“I’ve already spoken with your father and he thinks a summer wedding will—”

“You’ve what?” I choke on my tongue. “You’ve spoken to my dad about this?!”

“Of course. We agreed a summer wedding will be best,” he says. “Though, we could move that up if you don’t want to show in the photos.”

“Show?”

“You’re thirty. The sooner you conceive, the better it’ll be for the both of you.”

I recoil. “Good lord…”

“Trix—”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

He tilts his head. “Come on—”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

“This isn’t—”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

He twitches with annoyance. “Are you finished?”

“Are you?” I throw up my hands. “Marcus, you sound like a crazy person right now. Summer weddings and babies? Why?!”

“I thought this would make you happy,” he says. “We’ve been together for years.”

“Hooking up on the occasional Friday night because there’s nothing good on TV isn’t being together,” I argue. “I literally don’t even know your middle name.”

“It’s Eugene.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course, it is.”

He takes a step forward. “Now, that’s enough, Beatrix.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “That’s what?”

“It’s time. You need to stop parading around like a slut with those whore friends of yours and settle down. Be a good wife.”

My smile drops. “Oh, you did not just go there.”

“We’re announcing our engagement tonight at dinner,” he says. “You’ll move out of your apartment and move back home into the guest house with me.”

I stand taller. “Marcus, we are not getting married, you will never touch me again, and this is the last time you’ll ever speak to me this way. Do I make myself clear?”

“Trix—”

“That’s Ms. Argento to you. You are my family’s employee, aren’t you?”

He flexes his jaw. “Your father won’t like this.”

“I don’t believe for a second he knows about this and even if he does he probably laughed in your face about it the second you brought it up. My father supports me and as soon as he’s free, he’s going to make me part of the family.”

Marcus laughs. “You still believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He leans in, his grin still deep in his face. “The marriage was his idea.”

My chest clenches. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Ask him yourself.”

He tosses the velvet box upward in my direction and my instincts tilt my hands to catch it.

“Marcus—” I gasp as if he just plopped an active grenade in my palm.

He ignores me and walks off down the sidewalk, his head gently bouncing over the top of the crowd. I watch him go, taking deep breaths to calm my temper until his tuft of black hair disappears around the corner.

I stare at the red box in my hand, quickly giving into the ounce of curiosity I have. I open it and my stomach twists into knots.

A bright, shining rock on an intricate band of gold. Clean, vintage, and a little too familiar for me to handle.

I snap it closed and walk back into the restaurant, desperately attempting to shake the weight of betrayal off my shoulders as I make my way back to our table.

“Trix, are you okay?”

It’s Nora. I think.

I release the velvet box, letting it roll onto the pure white tablecloth as I pick up the nearest mimosa and toss every drop of it into the back of my throat.

There’s a gasp or two as I chug it down, followed quickly by the soft flick of the box opening.

“He didn’t,” Melanie says.

I plop down into my empty chair. “He did.”

Nora pinches the ring and pulls it out of the box. “Is this what I think it is?” she asks.

I nod. “It is.”

Another round of mimosas lowers onto the table in front of me. Excellent timing, as usual.

“Keep ‘em coming, buddy,” I mutter to no one as I grab a glass by the stem and bring it to my numb mouth.