Page 69 of Marcus

“Well, I don’t disagree.”

They went back to chopping the fruit, Cara focused on the task, and Cella enjoying the view of the family with all their kids playing together. It was a lot of people to keep up with, but she did her best to try. No one seemed offended if she mixed up one of the kids’ names, or something silly like that. Tiffany didn’t have any problem at all fitting right in with the rest of them.

Currently, she found her daughter in the middle of the French gravel pathway jumping up and down beside Marcus as he finished tacking up the horse that had been attached to a small carriage. The only animal on the property, Cara had told her, because otherwise, they didn’t have enough time in the day to take care of it all and animals deserved love and attention, too.

“He loves taking the kids out for rides,” Cara said, noticing her staring at the horse. “Chris had him shipped in from Mexico for Val … Butter, that’s his name. He was hers there, and after a bit of negotiating on his part with her sister-in-law, she allowed him to bring the horse to Canada.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t he?”

“Ma! Come on!”

Cella’s attention flew back to her daughter, who was now being lifted into the carriage by Marcus. He turned her way, too, and with a wave of his hand, she knew what they both wanted. So did Cara, it seemed.

“Go ahead,” the woman told her, grinning like she didn’t mind being left alone to finish slicing the fruit. “Enjoy your day—have fun. That’s all we want while you’re here with us.”

“I don’t mind helping.”

“I know, but he would like to spend time with you, and that matters more to me. Besides, I’m sure you don’t want to spend your last day here working to feed all these people, hmm?”

Actually, she didn’t mind that at all.

“One ride,” she told Cara, “and then I will be back to help you serve the pizza when it gets here.”

“You’re a very sweet woman, Cella.”

So was Marcus’s mother.

“Besides,” Cara added, “I won’t complain about the extra help, and it gives me the chance to work on this waiting list of yours that I hear you have for your design clients. How might I get myself to the top of that?”

Cella pointed at the woman, taking a step away from the table. “Ah, now I see what’s happening here.”

“Go on your ride—you know I’m kidding with you.”

She did.

And hopefully, Cara would love what Cella was doing for the penthouse. They were going to have to just wait and see on that one, though.

Cella headed across the grass where Marcus waited next to the carriage, his grin making her own grow the closer she came. Cara had been right about something else, too.

She was leaving tomorrow.

Thing was … she no longer wanted to go.

Life couldn’t be easy, though.

It never was.

While the flat screen on the opposite wall to his desk in the office of his home played through the highlight reels of the weekend news for Central Toronto, Marcus sipped on two fingers of cognac on ice and half paid attention. The news was always a good indication about just how much of Guzzi business went under the radar when there were issues. Especially if those issues originated outside the organization. Like right now with the bikers.

Of course, with the chapter of the Riders in Quebec being small, the death of the president of said chapter hadn’t been a big news story when it happened, although it had made the highlight reel.

Now, it wasn’t mentioned at all.

And the Guzzis name had never been brought up.

Marcus took all that as a win for him.