Chapter 21
The coffee shop was small and unpretentious, the kind of place that served excellent espresso and didn’t care if you stayed for three hours nursing a single cup.
Exposed brick walls, mismatched vintage furniture, the soft hum of an indie playlist in the background.
Bea had chosen it deliberately. Neutral ground. Safe ground.
She was already seated at a corner table when Marco arrived, two cups of coffee steaming in front of her. She’d ordered his usual, dark roast, no sugar, a splash of cream. The fact that she remembered made him smile before he even reached her.
“Bea,” he said, and there was genuine warmth in his voice. No games, no performance.
Just Marco being Marco.
She stood to greet him, and he pulled her into a hug that was easy and familiar. His arms wrapped around her, and she breathed in the scent of his cologne, expensive and sharp. When he pulled back, he kissed her cheek, a soft press of lips that was affectionate without being sexual.
“You look good,” he said, settling into the chair across from her. “Happy.”
“I am,” Bea said, and meant it. She reached across the table and took his hands, threading her fingers through his.
This was their dynamic, physical affection without the intensity that came with the brothers.
With Marco, touch was communication, not conquest. At least it hadn’t been in a long time.
“So,” he said, his dark eyes studying her face. “Are you really working for Dimitri Marchetti?”
Bea didn’t hesitate. “Yes, and they are not as horrible as they are made out to seem.”
“Oh I know they aren’t bad guys, they just don’t know how to listen to reason. Please tell me they are treating you good?”
“I’m treated very well, things are… blooming. With all three brothers.”
Marco let out a low whistle, his eyebrows shooting up. “Damn girl. I can definitely see the appeal; I bet those guys are feral in the bedroom. Dimitri doesn’t do it for me. I could get on board with Killian…but Nico, damn, he’s the real freak isn’t he?”
Bea laughed, a genuine sound that made heads turn at nearby tables. “You have no idea.”
“Tell me, it’s the glasses isn’t it?” Marco said, leaning forward. “I want details. I want to know how you managed to get those three punks to lose their minds over you. Honestly I knew it didn’t take much, look at you, you’re beautiful. They are damn lucky to have you.”
She smiled and squeezed his hands, then she told him everything.
She told him about Dimitri’s possessive claiming, about the marks he’d left on her skin like a declaration of war.
She told him about Killian’s three-year obsession, about the way he made her feel powerful in her own body.
She told him about Nico’s shift from voyeuristic submission to brutal dominance, about the way he’d taken control in the security room and made her surrender completely.
Marco listened without judgment, his thumbs stroking the backs of her hands. When she finished, he was quiet for a moment, processing.
“You’re in deep,” he finally said.
“I know.” She let out a long dreamy sigh.
“Like, really deep. These aren’t men who share regularly, Bea. They are also not normal men. Unfortunately they are like my father and myself, part of a world that is not kind and therefore we can’t be all that kind.”
“I know that too,” Bea said. “But right now, they’re willing to try, for me and they have treated me pretty damn good.”
Marco’s expression shifted, something vulnerable flickered across his face before he covered it with a smile. “I’m sad you’re not with me,” he said quietly. “I won’t lie about that. But I get it. Three is better than one I guess.” He throws in a little smirk.
Bea squeezed his hands. “You’re still my best friend. That won’t change.”
“Until they find out,” Marco said, and there was a dark edge to his humor. “Then I’m dead. They’ll kill me just for knowing you. Can you imagine what they will try to do to me once they find out we’ve fucked…a lot.” Throwing in a small ornery smile.
“No,” Bea said firmly. She gripped his hands tighter, her eyes locking onto his. “I would never let them hurt you, and I trust that you won’t hurt them. You’ve been there for me just as much as Barb has. They will understand that.”
Marco’s smile was sad. “You’re giving them a lot of credit.”
“I know them,” Bea said. “Better than you think.”
“Do you?” Marco pulled one hand free and reached up to touch her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. “Because I need you to understand something, and I need you to really hear me on this.”
Bea waited, her sharp eyes tracking every micro-expression on his face.
“There’s a possibility, a real possibility, that they’re going to force you to choose,” Marco said quietly.
“Between them and a friendship with me. The Marchetti-Valenti hatred runs deep, Bea. They hate my family. They hate me. And if they find out you’re close to me, that you trust me, that you’ve been intimate with me…
” He trailed off, letting the implication hang.
“They won’t make me choose,” Bea said, but there was less certainty in her voice now.
“They might not mean to,” Marco said. “But it could happen anyway. Loyalty is everything to men like us. They see me as a threat to their empire already, but if they see me as a threat to their relationship with you-”
“You’re not a threat,” Bea interrupted. “You’re my friend.”
“I’m a Valenti,” Marco corrected gently. “That makes me a threat by default. Plus I’m fucking terrifying, thank you very much.”
Bea leaned back in her chair, her mind already spinning through scenarios, calculating angles.
“They don’t know the real you like I do,” she said finally.
“The you that helped me when I got to the city, who helped me by making your dad hire me for odd end jobs. The you that’s been there for every breakdown, every moment I couldn’t hold it together.
They know the heir to the Valenti empire. They don’t know Marco.”
“And you think that matters?”
“I know it does,” Bea said with absolute confidence. “I’m sure you all will be best friends one day.”
Marco laughed, a real, genuine laugh that made his whole face light up. “You’re insane. You know that, right?”
“Completely,” Bea agreed, smiling. “All right. Out with it”
Marco blinked at her with a fake innocence. “Out with what?”
“That look.” She pointed to his face.
He grinned, “What look?”
“The one that says you’ve either killed someone, gotten laid, or you’re about to tell me something that is going to make me yell in public.”
Marco laughed, a deep rich and amused sound. “You know me so well, beautiful.”
“That’s because unlike most people, I pay attention when you talk.”
He pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “Are you saying I’m not important enough that no one listens to me?”
Bea rolled her eyes. “Marco.”
He leaned forward then, all lazy charm slipping into something more real. “I met someone, a guy.”
Bea froze. Then her face lit up. “Oh my God!’
Marco snorted. “You are way too excited.”
“No, I am the right amount of excited.” She set her coffee down hard enough to make it slosh. “Who is he? What’s his name? Is he hot? Scratch that I know he will be hot. Does he know what he is getting into with you, because that poor man deserves a warning.”
Marco barked out a laugh. “Jesus, take a breath and let me speak woman.”
She moved her hand to her mouth and made a zipping motion.
He shook his head, still grinning. “His name is Alexei.”
Bea’s brows shot up. “Alexei, huh? That is a very sexy name.”
Heat shot up his neck, “I thought so too, and he’s fucking Russian.”
She gasped. “You like him, like him.”
Marco gave her a flat look. “Obviously, I like him, I thought that was implied when I said, I met someone.”
“No, no.” Bea pointed at him. “There’s liking someone, and then there’s whatever this face is right now.”
Marco dragged a hand over his face, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “He’s…” He paused, like was actually looking for the right world. “He’s solid. Quiet when he wants to be. Mean in a very fun way. Crazy enough to keep up with me, which is rare and should honestly earn him an award.”
Bea smiled into her straw
Marco kept going, voice going lower, more thoughtful. “He doesn’t flinch around me. Doesn’t try to tame me. Doesn’t act like I’m too much.” He looked down at his coffee and huffed a laugh, “He’s a little unhinged and coming from me that should be terrifying.”
Bea’s expression softened. “Marco.”
He shrugged one shoulder, almost shy beneath all that swagger. “He’s good, Bea.”
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “That’s wonderful.”
He looked up at her. His smile came back, but it was crooked now. “It is.” Then he tilted his head. “But also…no.”
She blinked at that. “What does that mean?”
He pulled his hand free and sat back again, expression turning sly in a way she knew meant trouble was about to enter the chat.
“It means, things are about to get complicated.” Then after taking a deep breath he said, “I also have my eye on someone else.”
Bea stared at him. Then she groaned. “Marco.”
“I KNOW!”
“You just told me about one man and now there’s already another person?”
He spread his hands. “I have so much love to offer.”
“You have chaos to offer.”
“That too.” Throwing her that panty dropping smile.
Bea narrowed her eyes. “Who?”
Marco’s grin widened. “Vera Graves.”
Bea went still, her eyes widened so fast he started laughing before she even spoke. “Graves?” she hissed. “Like Mayor Graves?”
Marco nodded, looking unbearably pleased with himself. “The very one.” He takes a sip of his coffee without losing eye contact with her.
She dropped back against the booth like she’d just been shot. “Oh good Lord.”
“Good reaction or bad reaction? bad right?”
“Marco, that man is an absolute snake.”
“Agreed.”
“And his family is a political nightmare.”
“Also agreed.”
“And you want his daughter?”
Marco leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes bright with intent. “I do.”
Bea stared at him. “Why?”
For the first time since he’d started talking, Marco’s expression went cold. “Because she’s being buried alive. She’s surviving and God she’s fucking beautiful, Bea. She’s smart, witty, and she observes the room better than any person I know. She’s always shoved in the background.
Marco looked down at his cup, turning it slowly between his hands. “The younger daughter though,” he said. “The one that he trots out at charity galas and campaign dinners and every fake smiling photo op in the city?”
Bea nodded slowly.
“That one gets the dresses, the attention, the handpicked introductions. But Vera…” he shook his head. “He keeps her hidden. Like she’s something he’d rather people not see. the fucking dresses he makes her wear. They are outdated and she wears a fucking corset that’s two sizes to small.”
Bea frowned but let him continue.
“Her smile, though, lights up my world. She was made to shine.” His voice dropped. “He hides her, thirty-four years old and she’s forced to abide by his rules. I believe she thinks if she stays away people won’t notice the bruises.”
Something sharp moved through Bea’s chest. She knew what it felt like to be hidden and abused. She knew what it felt like to be treated as an inconvenience instead of a daughter. “And Alexei knows?”
Marco’s smile came back, smaller this time but real. “Alexei is very much on board.” That made her grin
“Well,” she said, “good for both of you.” She pauses then says, “So what’s the problem?”
Marco’s jaw flexed once. “The problem is,” he let out a breath.
“is getting her out.” He leaned back again, but there was no swagger in it now.
Just frustration. “I want her, Bea.” His voice was rougher than before.
“Alexei wants her too, and that part…” he shrugged.
“That part feels possible, but Vera?” he exhaled through his nose.
“That woman has walls built out of steel and disappointment, and her father watches her every move.”
Marco’s mouth twisted. “So yeah. I know what I want. I just haven’t figured out how to get it.”
Bea looked at him for a long moment. Then she smiled, slowly and wickedly.
Marco’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You, are Marco. Fucking. Valenti! ” she said pointing at him.
A grin started tugging at his mouth.
Bea leaned across the table. “You are beautiful, rich, persuasive, shameless and very self-aware enough to be dangerous with it.”
Marco laughed. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I’m not done.” Bea sat back and crossed her arms. “If anyone can figure out a way through Mayor Graves, around his bullshit, and straight to the daughter he’s to stupid to value properly, it’s you.” Bea lifted her coffee taking a sip.
He held her gaze for a second, then nodded once. “Yeah, I will.”
Bea clinked her cup lightly against his coffee. “To Alexei.”
Marco lifted his cup. “To Alexei.”
Then Bea smirked. “And to Vera, who has absolutely no idea her life is about to get much more interesting.”
Marco laughed, “no she does not.”
They sat like that for a while, hands linked across the table.
Sipping their coffee and falling into the comfortable rhythm of people who’d known each other for years.
Marco told her about his recent trip. About a deal his father was thinking about.
About his dad’s head of security Zane who doesn’t let Marco get away with shit like always.
Just the usual chaos of the Valenti family business.
Bea listened and laughed and felt the tension in her shoulders ease.
This was what she needed, a moment of normalcy, of ease. Of connection that didn’t come with the weight of the world or the intensity of three men who wanted to consume her completely. Or the fact that she still hasn’t found the rat at fault for stealing that shipment.