Page 5 of Marcus

“See what?” Chris asked, never looking away from his computer screen.

“This.”

Marcus tossed the Toronto-focused magazine to his brother’s desk with a grunt that spoke of his utter disgust. The damn rag liked to write all the shit about things they knew nothing about. Usually regarding people they considered to be high society in Toronto, and all of that nonsense. And of course, because the Guzzi family happened to be very rich with a name that carried an interesting, if not murky, legacy … well, the five brothers, their wives, and even their parents were often topics of discussion in the articles whenever the rag thought they could get away with it.

This month, Marcus got to be included.

“I’m getting Dad’s lawyer on their asses—they need to get my fucking name out of their mouths.”

Bene sighed, reaching for the magazine before Christopher even bothered to look away from his computer screen. Soon enough, their younger brother had flipped to the article in question about Marcus which was really just noting that he had attended a charity gala where he danced with a young woman who happened to be the daughter of a prominent Canadian politician.

Except they couldn’t just stop at that.

No, never.

“Oh my God,” Bene muttered, trying and failing to keep his laughter under his breath. “They suggested she’s your fiancée and everything. Where do they come up with this trash? Marcus Guzzi was clearly enamored with—”

“That’s quite enough, reading it once was fine for me. I don’t need someone else to read it to me, too.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

Bene tossed the magazine to the desk where Chris finally decided to pick it up as well.

“It can’t be that bad,” Chris said.

Right.

Yeah.

“You only say that because now when the society rags write about you, they talk about your wife. Same with Bene, or Beni. It’s only Corrado they give a bit of shit about and that’s because after a few years, they still don’t understand how he can fuck two people at the same time.”

“Easy,” Chris murmured.

“I’m just saying. It’s true. I’m the only single brother left, and they put me in that trash every goddamn weekend. I can’t even go out and show my face at a club without them writing about how I am either lonely because I’m alone or marrying some stranger whose name I don’t even know.”

Chris quieted as he read the article, but his eyes slowly widened as he took in the rest of the piece. “Oh, wow. Sources confirmed … We all know that’s fucking bullshit there.”

Marcus ground his teeth harder than was healthy and gave Chris a look from where the man sat in his chair. “See?”

Wasn’t it bad enough that he was three months shy of his thirtieth birthday, and all the made men around him constantly watched him? As though they were waiting for the moment when Marcus would announce a marriage because that was the obvious, required next step in this life of his. For his whole life, he’d been told he would be the next Guzzi boss. He’d be the one to take over after his father was finally finished, which only meant one thing for Marcus.

He needed to be married.

To an appropriate woman.

Which was fine because Marcus fully understood his duty to his family and this legacy. He accepted it long ago, but that didn’t mean he was at that place yet. And it didn’t help to have fucking magazines writing bullshit about him every single time he left his place to go out and have a good time.

The bigger problem was that since Gian, their father, had taken a step back in the public eye as the boss heading the family after his arrest years ago to deflect attention, even more of it was placed on Marcus. Constantly. His brothers liked to joke that Marcus was boring. He didn’t do anything—stayed in, walked the line of their rules, never bending them even the littlest bit, and always doing everything that was expected of him.

That wasn’t entirely true.

Everything he did was judged.

Dissected.

Interpreted.

And Marcus refused to give people more shit to talk about.