Page 83 of Vicious Intentions
What else can I say? What could I possibly say that will make any of this better?Cazzo!
Anna:Okay. Then maybe tomorrow?
Another curse escapes my lips as I take in a deep breath.
Me:Tomorrow.
Anna:Tomorrow.
Me:Goodnight,cara mia.
Anna:Goodnight,caro mio.
I lean my head against my bed’s headboard, my heart slamming into my chest at the last words she wrote.Caro mio. My beloved. My love.
This has gotten out of hand. I was supposed to be the one in control here. I was supposed to get Annamaria to trust me enough that she would be an easy target when the time came. None of this was supposed to happen.Feelingsweren’t supposedto fucking happen. And now, because I let something as idiotic as emotion cloud my judgment, I might have just killed the one shot we ever had at weakening Romano.
“Fuck!” I curse out, slamming my fists into the mattress.
Knowing tonight I won’t be able to come up with a solution for the problem, I turn off the lights and attempt to go to sleep. Attempt being the operative word here, since sleep never comes. Instead, I toss and turn all night, trying to solve a problem with no real solution beyond the obvious. By the time the sun rises, I don’t have it in me to pretend to sleep anymore. I get up, take a shower, get dressed, and act as if it weren’t the day I have to ask the one person who hates me for help.
As if summoning the pain in my ass, I find Raffaele dancing around the kitchen with my mother. I’ve given him and Niccolò the day off, so I’m a little surprised to see him up this early. I lean against the doorframe and, for a second, just stare at them as they laugh and joke. Raffaele is dipping Mom and causing her to laugh louder than the Bad Bunny song playing over the radio.
I don’t dare move a muscle, since this is the most smiles I’ve seen from my brother in a long time. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed seeing them.
“Matteo,figlio mio!” my mother sings in glee, causing Raffaele to release his hold on her so she can run over to me. His face turns to stone, just as his heart must at the very sight of me.
“Morning, Mom. How did you sleep?”
“Well, and you?” she asks worriedly, running her fingers under the dark circles of my eyes.
“Nothing that some coffee won’t fix.”
“Let me get you a double espresso then,” she says, before walking over to the coffee machine.
Just as she goes to help me with my morning coffee, Raffaele is ready to bolt out of the room, dance party forgotten. Before hecan slide past me, I stop him with a palm to his chest, the stench of expensive gin and cheap perfume making my stomach churn.
So that’s why he’s up this early. He hasn’t seen his bed yet.
“Don’t leave just yet. I need to have a word with you.”
“I’ve got sh… I mean, stuff to do, boss,” he says with a fake smile.
If bystuffhe means sleeping off his drunken stupor, then yes, he surely does. But only after I have a few words with him.
“That can wait. This cannot. Meet me in my office in ten. Let me get some coffee in me, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Whatever you say, boss. It’s your show after all,” Raffaele retorts, his reply dripping with sarcasm.
I don’t call him out on it. Instead, I let him leave so I can enjoy my coffee in peace.
I take a seat while my mother places a mug in front of me, her hand rubbing my back in a motherly gesture.
“You’re his big brother, Matteo. Whatever wedge has come between you, it’s on you to fix it.”
“Because I’m the oldest? That logic doesn’t hold, Mom.”
“Not because you’re the oldest but because it’s the right thing to do. Raffaele is suffering. He hides it from you, but he is.”
