Page 120 of Marcus

“Uncle Marcus!”

Little Marcus Gian, although they all called him Marc, Bene and Vanna’s only child—thus far—broke past his mother and father to rush his uncle. All of two years old, the kid was like a hurricane. When Bene asked Marcus to be his godfather, it forced him to fix the bridge he almost burned with his brother and Vanna.

“Playroom?” his godson asked.

Marcus laughed, reaching down to pat Marc on the head as he hugged his uncle’s legs. “That’s where we’re going right now.”

“Come play?”

“Sure will, buddy.”

“You know,” Beni said, staying close to his wife’s side, “if Papa is still thinking about selling this place, I might be—”

“Definitely not selling it,” Gian cut in fast, “so don’t even ask.”

Laughter colored the room.

“So, we’re eating, drinking, and … what are we celebrating tonight other than this place?” Ginevra asked.

Alessio gave her a shake of his head, while Corrado on the other side of her wrangled their two kids as best he could, one in each arm.

“This family,” Gian said, smiling. “We’re celebrating the legacy of this family tonight, and how much you all have changed it for the better.”

Right.

Marcus had to wonder as he lingered behind to stand at the end of the entry hall while his family went forward to admire the rest of the place with his mother … what exactly had he given to this legacy so far?

The fact he didn’t have an easy answer bothered him. Far more than he was willing to admit. For a long time, he simply assigned his purpose to being there for his family. Taking care of them. Looking out for all of them, whether they thought he needed to or not. He understood all the things he had to show for it, but that didn’t change the fact that at the end of the day …

Well, at the end of the day, Marcus still went home alone.

A familiar ding ringing throughout the penthouse had him turning around to see who was being let off the elevator into the penthouse. In the few minutes since he arrived with his parents, it certainly had time to go back down and bring someone else up. However, all the guests should have already been at the party.

Marcus froze in place when the elevator doors opened, and there stood Cella looking down at the floor in a black dress that hugged the hourglass shape of her curves perfectly. Gold thread detailing had the dress contoured down the lines of her body. The pencil thin skirt fell a couple of inches above her knees. In her hands, she held tight to a black clutch with a gold chain that was also wrapped around her wrist. The black pumps on her feet did the best fucking things for her legs.

The sight of her wearing a dress with gold detailing reminded him of the first time she’d accompanied him to his parents’ mansion. The gold dress she’d worn that night made her look draped in it. Tonight, the gold on her seemed to show Cella off. She pulled it off either way, and both had him as hard as a fucking rock.

She didn’t know about the Guzzis love of gold, but he did. Everything his family owned had their mark of gold written all over it. Kind of like their signature, really.

Jesus.

She moved forward one step, looking up at the same time. Their eyes met from fifteen feet away, her at the elevator and him at the far end of the hall. For a second, the world stopped moving as her familiar blue met his brown gaze. Under the lighting in the hallway, her tanned skin gleamed. Painted red lips curved into a smile that had him standing a little straighter and taking in another breath of air. Her winged eyeliner and loose waves had him crazy in an instant.

God.

Why was she so beautiful?

Why did it have to hurt?

“Traffic?” he asked.

Kind of stupid.

It was the first thing out of his mouth, though.

Cella nodded. “Yeah, and my Uber took the wrong exit.”

“Ah, well—”