Chapter-48

The next day was a blur of uncertainty. Each time the phone buzzed, I’d find myself hoping it was Lucien, and my heart would skip a beat, yet in the back of my mind, was the nagging voices of both Jess and Brian telling me to be careful. Their caution wasn’t something I could just dismiss as merely a friends’ concern.

Was I jumping too quickly after all? I couldn’t help but wonder. After all, what did I really know about Lucien? 1. He was gorgeous. 2. He made my heart beat for the first time since Torin’s death. 3. He was damn good in the sack. And 4…He was a Mob Boss’s son.

Earlier that day, I'd found myself restless, and had decided to head into work early. I'd kept myself busy for most of the time, but now the steady flow of customers had begun to lag, and with a small sigh, I picked up a cloth and began wiping the counter down.

That's when I felt it—the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, the tingle of someone's gaze on me. I turned to look around the room, my eyes scanning the dimly lit space, and that's when I saw him—Rook, my old friend, sitting in the corner booth, a bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him, his eyes never leaving mine.

It had been a year since he'd disappeared from my life without a trace, leaving only a note saying he had to go away for a while. His presence was a surprise, a sudden reminder of the person I'd been before the inheritance and the Mafia whispers.

Our eyes met, and the bar fell away. For a moment, it was just the two of us, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. Then, with a nod, he gestured for me to join him.

I approached him cautiously, a mix of joy and nerves swirling in my stomach. "Rook," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

He took a swig of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving mine. "Figured it was time to check in on you," he said, his voice gruff. "You've changed, Marlowe."

I couldn't argue with that. The girl who'd been lost in grief and anger was slowly being replaced by a woman who was beginning to live again. "It's been a long year," I said, sliding into the booth opposite him.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on my face. "You're looking good," he said, his voice soft. "But I see the shadows in your eyes. Tell me what's going on."

I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But then I remembered the trust we'd once shared, the way he'd been there for me through thick and thin. I took a deep breath and told him about the inheritance, the changes to the bar, and the offer from Lucien.

His expression remained neutral, but I could see the tension in his jaw as he listened. "You be careful with him, Marlowe," he said, his eyes serious. "You don't know what you're getting into."

"I know it's dangerous," I replied, my voice shaking slightly. "But I can't ignore the way he makes me feel."

Rook studied me for a moment before speaking again. "You've always had a rebellious streak," he said with a small smile. "But just remember, you've got people who care about you. And if things go sideways, you've got somewhere to go."

The reminder was surprising, but it was also comforting. I knew that despite the distance, he was still looking out for me. "Thank you," I said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.

He squeezed back, his eyes searching my face. "Just don't forget who you are," he said, his voice a warning. "No matter how bright the lights of the Mafia shine, you're still the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. And that's the girl who I'll always have her back."

I knew he was right—that my world was changing, and with it, the stakes were getting higher. But for now, all I could do was nod and hope that the choices I was making were the right ones.

As I returned to the bar-counter, Tannin huddled up beside me, a look of curiosity etched on her features as she took in the sight of Rook. "Who's the hunk?" she asked, her voice low so that only I could hear.

I chuckled. "That's Rook," I said, gesturing to him with a nod. "An old friend from the biker compound."

Her eyes widened, and she leaned in closer. "A biker?" she whispered, a hint of interest in her voice. "Tell me more."

I filled her in on our history, keeping the conversation light and avoiding the darker parts of our past. She listened intently, nodding along, her gaze drifting over to Rook occasionally. "He seems like a good guy," she said, her voice a little too casual.

"He is," I replied with a small smile.

The rest of the night went by in a blur of laughter and whiskey, with Rook regaling us with stories from the road. His deep, rumbling laugh filled the bar, and the customers seemed to be drawn to his magnetic presence. Despite the tension his appearance had brought, there was something comforting about having him there.

As the night grew later, the bar grew quieter, and I found myself leaning against the counter, watching him. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, it was like the world had stopped turning. The air between us was charged, and I felt the pull of attraction that I'd felt the night before—only this time, it was stronger.

"Marlowe," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in my bones. "There's something I need to tell you."

The seriousness in his tone had my heart racing. I nodded, my throat suddenly dry. "Okay," I whispered, stepping closer.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "You're playing a dangerous game with Lucien," he murmured. "He's not the type to let you go easily."

My heart skipped a beat, and I swallowed hard, suddenly aware Rook was more acquainted with Lucien than I'd realized.

At seeing the sudden realization in my eyes, Rook nodded. "Yeah, I know him. If things get too complicated, if you ever want to get away from him, you come to me. I'll help you," he murmured.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He searched my eyes, his gaze intense. "Just remember," he said, squeezing my hand once before letting go. "Come to the compound, okay?

With that, he stood up, leaving a wake of silence behind him as he strode out of the bar. The door closed with a soft thud, and I was left standing there, feeling more conflicted than ever.