I roll my hand into a loose fist, feeling a very strong urge to turn tail and get the hell out of here. It’s strange to think back on all the times I came out here for sex or... well, sex. That’s really the only reason why I ever came knocking on Marcus’ door, so this might get awkward.

I rap lightly on the door and wait.

After a few silent moments, I knock again. “Marcus?” I ask.

I cringe. Ugh. Please don’t be masturbating...

“Marcus?”

I twist the knob and push the door open with one eye closed.

Luckily, it’s empty. I step inside, closing the door behind me. Marcus has lived in my family’s guest house for nearly a decade, and it shows. He’s made himself quite the little home here. While my grandmother always kept the main house bright and full of color, Marcus prefers to live in the shade. He doesn’t need much. Even his bed is a simple pull-out in the living room. He uses the bedroom as an office, an epic treasure trove of my family’s darkest secrets.

I step over the dirty socks and walk around the bed toward the office. If I can say anything positive about Marcus, it’s that he is a very thorough investigator. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s already compiled a pretty epic dossier on Lance. I just need to find it before he comes home.

The office is one small desk, an old chair, and lined wall-to-wall with file cabinets. A family like ours comes with a lot of contacts and colleagues and enemies, and it’s Marcus’ job to keep all of them straight. Just please, for the love of god, let them be sorted alphabetically.

I find the cabinet marked T and pull it open. I sift through the hanging files all the way to the back, breathing a happy sigh of relief when I find Tyler, Lance.

A pleasant flutter of butterflies ruffles my insides the second I lay eyes on Lance’s ID photo. That dark hair and awesome jawline. I set the file down on the desk and lean over as I push the photo to the side to get to the good stuff.

Born in San Francisco, California. Went to Stanford University and then... Harvard Law? Goddamn, son.

Oh, here we go. Married once. One child. Haley Anne.

I turn the page, hoping to find out more about his ex-wife but there’s nothing here. His parents still live in California. Boring... He has a brother who just got out of jail for fraud. Wow. Lots of fraud. Wait, Lance recently donated sperm in Boston? That’s weird...

“Well, well...”

I twist up toward the voice behind me. Marcus stands in the doorway in nothing but running shorts and sneakers with a thick layer of glistening sweat covering his whole body. Well, I called it.

Awkward.

He leans against the doorframe. “What do we have here?” he asks, looking me up and down.

“Cool your jets, Maverick,” I say. “I’m here on family business.”

“Like what?”

I close the file, shoving the papers back in. “Just double-checking a few details.”

“On who?”

“I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

I lay the file at my side and move to walk around him but Marcus doesn’t budge. I’m not about to risk touching his gross, slimy skin so I stand still, glaring up at him until I start to lose patience.

“Excuse me,” I say.

“Where do you think you’re going with that?” he asks.

“Somewhere that smells a little less like mildew.”

“My files don’t leave my office,” he says. “You need to read something, you do it here.”

I scoff. “Since when?”

He snatches it from my arm.

“Marcus—”

“Lance Tyler?” he reads, staring at me with judgment. “Really?”

“Really what?” I ask with annoyance.

“Yeah, you’re not going anywhere with this.”

My eyes roll. “My family literally paid you for this information.”

“Though, I suppose I could be convinced to give you another minute with it,” he says, his eyes lacking all subtlety. “But you gotta earn it.”

“You live on our lawn, rent-free.”

“How about tonight? After dinner, you and I can come back here—”

“My seventy-two-year-old grandmother does your fucking laundry,” I seethe.

He stops, squinting in anger. “What do you want this for?” he asks.

“Not your concern.”

“Oh, that’s not true.” He takes a step forward and I counter backward to keep a healthy gap between us as he walks toward the T cabinet and yanks it open. “As you pointed out, your family pays me to make it my concern.” He files the folder slams the cabinet closed. “And since any business you have with Lance Tyler is professional, that makes it even more my business. Unless you want that information for personal reasons, in which case... no, actually. That’s still my business.”

“And why is that?”

“Because that makes you a security risk.” His voice hardens. “Is there anything you need to tell me, Ms. Argento?”

“Yeah.” I spin around to leave. “Take a shower before you come in the house again. You smell like dog.”

Marcus rushes forward and slams his arm into the wall ahead of me to block my path. I flinch, slinking away from his body odor.

“Don’t be stupid, Trix,” he whispers. “One wrong step and you never see your father again. Hell, sometimes I think that’s exactly what you want.”

“Trust me, Marcus.” I push his arm away with one finger. “You’ve never known what I want.”

I head toward the door, dodging socks as I go.

“Dancing with the Enemy.”

I pause with my hand on the knob. “What?”

He holds up his phone and reads. “Just for the kids? Or does this Assistant State’s Attorney have a trick up his sleeve?”

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I reach for it to find a new text from Marcus. I click the link to the article inside and a photo of me and Lance mid-kiss fills my screen.

There go the butterflies again.

“A hundred people saw that kiss,” I say. “It’s not exactly news.”

“No, you’re right. Totally not news.” He smirks. “So, what would you call a shot of you walking into his fucking house last night?”

I silently swallow the bile rising in my throat.

Marcus shakes his head. “Still think I don’t know what you want?” he asks, his tone cold and bitter. “I know one thing for sure. You definitely want to help put this whole family in prison.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Enlighten me, then.” He steps closer. “What could possibly compel Angelo Argento’s only daughter to fuck the prosecutor on his case?”

“We didn’t—”

“Is it some clever ruse?” he says over me. “Some wild machination to whore yourself onto his good side and get your dad out? No, I don’t think you’re anywhere near smart enough to pull that off.”

I frown. “Excuse me—?”

“I think this is just little, bratty Beatrix,” he spits. “Cast aside in favor of her brothers before Daddy ever changed a diaper. Always looking for approval but you never got it. Isn’t that right?”

Tears build in my throat. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not fucking him to help get Angelo out or to get back at me or because you even like the guy. No, you’re doing it because if Daddy ever found out then he’d have to actually pay you some attention, wouldn’t he?”

I yank the door open. “Screw you!”

“No, thanks,” he says, looking smug. “I don’t know where you’ve been.”

I slam it closed behind me.

Fucking hell.

I can't trust anyone. Not my brothers or Marcus. My own lawyer would rather I just sit still and smile. I can't see Nora and Melanie backing me up on this either. As much as I love them, this kind of business has always been a little dark for them.

I need to talk to my father. He’ll know what to do.

But how the hell am I supposed to get in there to see him with every person in the way telling me no?