BONUS CHAPTER
ONE YEAR LATER
“War!”
The morning sun spills through the villa’s kitchen when Sylus explodes through the doors like a man possessed.
Not a casual stroll, or one of his manic bounces.
No, he slams both doors open and nearly takes out a chair on his way in.
His dark hair is sticking up in at least ten directions, but my gaze slides lower, down his torso, where his already cropped shirt has ridden up even further, showing a glorious stretch of abs and tattoos.
Yummy.
God, I’m weak.
“My eyes are up here!”
I jolt a little in my chair, caught red-handed. My gaze flicks up, and that’s when I notice the streak of flour smeared across his cheek like war paint. I know better than to laugh, but the sight almost kills me.
“This is serious,” he insists with the dramatic flair of a man announcing the apocalypse. “Nonna Maria’s secret biscotti recipe has been stolen.”
The espresso machine hisses like it’s gasping in disbelief. We turn toward Koen, smartly finding the most reasonable one among us, who raises his steaming drink to his lips and stares at Sylus over the rim as if weighing whether this is an emergency.
“Stolen?” he questions, his eyebrow raised.
“Ripped from her wrinkled little hands by Nonna Bianca.” Sylus spits the name like it’s a curse.
“That witch paraded into church this morning and flaunted it. She shoved biscotti under my nose, Koen. Made me eat it. And you know what?” He presses a flour-covered hand to his chest. “It was ours. Maria’s.
I could taste it in my soul. And Maria cried into her rosary and said, mi dispiace, Sylus. The recipe is gone forever.”
Ezra groans beside me. “You’re talking about two eighty-year-old women in a bake-off rivalry.”
“Ezra.” Levi gasps from his other side. “Show some respect. This is Sylus’s heritage. This is legacy. This is—”
“Cookies,” Ezra deadpans.
“Biscotti!” Sylus roars, pointing at him. “It’s art, you heathen!”
I bite my lip hard to keep from laughing, my gaze bouncing between them like I’m courtside at the world’s most dramatic tennis match.
“Don’t you dare, Sparkle,” Sylus snaps, eyes narrowing on me. “You know how important this is.”
“I would never make fun of you or the nonnas, Sylus,” I sweetly reassure him, standing from my chair and raising to my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
“Tell me what you need.”
“Oh, I need a lot of things from you, Sparkle baby.” His voice drops an octave, using that tone that wraps around my spine and makes me forget my own name.
Then he nips my throat, pulling a moan from me, but he ignores it and pulls away.
When I lean back to look at him, his eyes flicker from sin to strategy.
“Right now, though, I need this team back together. Backstreet Boys style. This is a mission. We’re going to steal it back.”
Oh, boy.
The silence stretches long enough for me to hear Jinx yawning in the next room. A moment later, footsteps are coming down the stairs, then Ace and Nicholas stroll into the kitchen, both looking half-awake, but Ace seems to clock the tension instantly.
“What’s happening?” he asks, ice-blue eyes landing on me.
“We’re going on a mission,” I offer helpfully.
Sylus grins like a maniac before he grabs my hips and spins me once, making me squeal.
“Mission?” Ace echoes, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, every inch of him radiating I don’t have time for this shit, but also tell me everything.
“Didn’t we say we were done with this?” Nicholas asks, already making himself a coffee, like the chaos he walked in on is just background noise.
“Pretty sure they only let us off the hook because we’re in another country and keeping our feet still.
And I don’t know about you guys, but I’m too pretty for jail. ”
“That’s my line,” Levi mutters, crossing his arms.
“You’re the prettiest,” Ezra murmurs, kissing his cheek and making him beam.
My gaze flicks to Ace, but he seems unfazed by the mention of jail. He just huffs and rolls his eyes.
“What mission?” he asks Koen. “Is there a plan?”
Sylus’s hands tighten on my hips, and I share a knowing smile with him over my shoulder.
Yeah, we both see the same thing behind Ace’s unimpressed expression, buried deep.
Interest. Excitement.
We’ve all felt it, the restlessness beneath the sun-drenched peace of Tuscany. Sure, this life is heaven. Good food. Good company. Really good sex. But danger? Adrenaline? The wild pulse of Vegas nights? That’s a high nothing else can replace.
Still, maybe… maybe there’s a thrill in peace too. Just a quieter one.
“There’s no plan yet,” Sylus admits. “That’s what you and Koen are for, right?”
Ace’s brows knit. “What is this even about?”
“Fucking cookies,” Ezra mutters again and gets a smack on the shoulder from Levi.
“Someone stole the biscotti recipe from Sylus’s favorite nonna,” I explain.
“From her small wrinkly hands,” Sylus repeats dramatically.
“They stole it from her actual hands? Like… torn from her grip?” Ace raises a brow.
Because yeah, even for us, that’s bold.
Props to you, evil grandma.
“No, of course not. It’s a metaphor!” Sylus snaps, releasing my hips to run his hands through his hair, dusting the strands in flour.
“Don’t you people have any sense of drama?
It was in her recipe book, where recipes belong, but the whole book is gone.
I tried to help her recreate it this morning, but, ugh, don’t look at me like that!
Look, we don’t care about the rest, but the biscotti one’s been in her family for generations.
It’s the best in all of Tuscany. People died to get a biscotto from her, Ric! ”
Ace gives him a long, unimpressed stare.
“I’m sure someone died,” Sylus mutters with a shrug.
Ezra sighs. “If it’s that old and precious, how come she hasn’t memorized it?”
“She’s an eighty-year-old woman who sometimes forgets her last name. What do you want from her, Ez? And here I thought we were a family. That we had each other’s backs.”
I step back so I can snake my arm around Sylus’s waist, squeezing his taut abs in solidarity. Then I glance at Koen. He’s been silent this whole time, just watching, probably mapping out the line between idiocy and loyalty.
When he finally lifts his gaze to mine, I pull out the big guns and give him my best puppy dog eyes. He stares for a beat, then his jaw ticks, and I swear I see the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.
“Fine.” Koen leans back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. “Floor plan?”
“I love you!” Sylus shouts, launching himself out of my grip and wrapping Koen in a bear hug that Koen doesn’t return but also doesn’t stop.
Then Sylus spins, grabbing Nicholas to pull him into a hug too. “Come here, Short King.”
“Jesus, warn a man!” Nicholas sputters, holding his hand out awkwardly to protect his coffee.
Levi giggles. “We’re really doing this? Oh my God, we’re doing this!”
Ezra drops his head into his hands, but the smile in his tone gives him away. “Every time I think we’re out of trouble, you idiots drag us right back in.”
I can’t help it, I’m grinning so wide my cheeks hurt, that old familiar buzz humming under my skin.
My heart kicks up as I glance at Ace and find that dangerous little smirk I love so much tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Yeah. I’m definitely not the only one who’s missed a little thrill.
In minutes, the kitchen turns into a war room. Koen sketches routes, Ace strategizes the lift, and Sylus loads pockets with sugar packets for emotional support. By the time we pile into Ezra’s Jeep, even he looks reluctantly ready for crime.
And just like that, we’re off on our ridiculous biscotti heist.
The mission had been a whirlwind, a couple of hours of pure idiocy and unexpected competence, and now Sylus is hauling me into the villa like I’m the stolen loot. He has me slung over his shoulder, his hands gripping my thighs a little too possessively, his fingers inching up under my skirt.
I’m giggling to the point of breathlessness, the kind of high that makes my skin tingle and my heart pound as it did back in Vegas.
“Sylus, put me down!” I protest, but it’s half-hearted. His shoulder is rock hard under me, and every step bounces me against him in a way that’s… distracting.
“Not a chance, Sparkle baby. You’re my prize.” He spins us once, making me squeal.
The others pile in after us. Koen with that quiet, satisfied smirk, Ace looking windswept and dangerously alive, and Nicholas flushed and grinning like he just pulled off the parkour stunt of the century, which he did in some way.
Levi and Ezra are still outside the senior home, dealing with the fucking pigeons.
Sylus finally sets me down in the living room, but only so he can back me against the wall, his body crowding mine. His mouth crashes down on me, tasting like victory and espresso, and it makes me crave more.
More of him. More of the anticipation, the excitement.
I melt into the kiss and fist my hands into his shirt, pulling him closer.
God, the adrenaline is like fire in my veins.
“Shouldn’t we have stayed to help Levi and Ezra?” I gasp when he breaks away to nip at my jaw, his hands already sliding up my sides.
He chuckles against my skin. “They’ll wrangle their poop machines back in no time.
Pigeons love drama.” His teeth graze the side of my neck before he bites hard enough to make me gasp.
“You were so fucking hot out there. You’re lucky I didn’t drag you into a pantry and fuck you senseless with twenty nonnas and a priest wandering around. ”
A shiver races down my spine at the thought, heat flooding every inch of me, and I arch into him. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.” His silver eyes darken, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise… in the best way. “The way you slipped through that kitchen like a ghost? Picking that book right out of Bianca’s apron after Ace botched the lift? Chef’s kiss. Literally.”
“Botched?” Ace scoffs from behind him. “That was all part of the plan.”