Push

56. She Rejected the Offer

GWEN

Marnie's mouth dropped open.

Eyes like saucers tracked me as I hobbled into the café, and then turned into dinner plates when she noticed the swaggering Italian two steps behind me. Together, Ben and I were a disaster—bruised and beaten—and although the sleepy tourists of Bronte barely noticed me, my shadow attracted more than his fair share of fluttered eyelashes and shy smiles. I guess his busted lip and shiner went with his whole tattooed tough guy aesthetic.

"Oh!" Marnie leaped up, her hands pressed to her cheeks. "You guys look awful! Here!" She yanked out an empty chair. "Sit! Sit!"

Steadying my hand on the back of the chair, I gritted my teeth and sat down.

Marnie watched the entire production with an awkward smile stretched across her face. "You look, um..." She winced. "Goooood?"

"I'm fine."

"You would say that," she scoffed, the ruffled rainbows of her skirt puffing up as she collapsed into the chair across from me. "And you. Ben." She winced again. The real name of her heartthrob would take some getting used to. "Finally earned your paycheck, huh?"

A pang of guilt stabbed under my ribs. Toby style, I snatched up a menu. "That's not from Ian," I muttered, avoiding questioning eyes by scanning the daily specials.

I caught a glimpse of a tattooed hand snaking around the back of Marnie's chair as Ben leaned over. "I...fell," he said.

"You fell?" I could hear the disbelief in Marnie's voice. "Off what? A building?" She paused—probably to flutter her own eyelashes at him. "Poor baby. Does it hurt?"

"Sí, bellezza," Ben said, "but there is one place I ache most of all."

Unamused, I glanced up in time to see Marnie's eyes dart to the zipper of his black trousers. I whacked the menu against my forehead. Have some chill, Mar. Not that Ben minded the direction her lusty little brain was traveling. He rumbled a laugh.

"My heart, bellezza," he corrected her gently. "Did you know you stole it?"

"Did I?" she breathed.

I groaned. My best friend had a serious weakness for crap murmured with an accent. I lowered the menu and shot a pointed look at Ben. "Shouldn't you be—I dunno—guarding or something?"

"Always work and no play," he grumbled. "You and my employer are too much alike." I watched through slitted eyes as his hand took far too long to slide back along the top of Marnie's chair. "I'll make myself useful to stay in his good graces. Coffees for you both, yes?" Dark eyes burned into mine. "But no wandering off this time, sorellina."

I sank lower in my chair. Forcing a smile up at Ben, I gave a shaky salute. Lesson learned. My butt would stay glued to the chair. That didn't mean I appreciated the patronizing pat he dropped on my head, and I shoved him away with a glare.

Marnie's chin fell into her hand as she watched Ben saunter to the counter. "That man is absolutely going to break my heart," she sighed.

I frowned. "Mar."

Reluctantly, she dragged her eyes away from him. "Are you about to cockblock me with common sense again?" she asked.

"He's literally related to a crime boss."

"Details. Shmetails." She waved me off with a dismissive hand. "So, he's a bit rough around the edges. What does it matter anyway? I'm a struggling artist—"

"You live in a loft in Mosman," I pointed out. "You're hardly struggling."

"You and your facts." She rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. So I'm a successful artist. I live solo, and I'm never going to have kids. Hell, I'm probably going to grow old and fabulous, surrounded by nothing but rescue cats and a horde of ugly knickknacks. Let me have this one fling with a tortured bad boy." She clasped her hands under her chin and offered me her sweetest smile. "Please, Gwen."