Page 106 of Vicious Intentions
Part of me intends to let Niccolò, or even Rocco, kill the motherfucker. But then there’s the darker part of me. The one still scarred from growing up with him as a father. The part that bristles at the mere thought of being denied the chance to watch the light leave his eyes.
“Should I want to know why you visited your father today?” Moretti asks, curious.
Because I wanted someone to feel my pain…and he’s the only one who deservesit.
“No,” I say flatly. “He’s still breathing. That’s all you need to know.”
“There’s a silver lining in there somewhere, I guess.”
Is there? It doesn’t feel like it. Every day I let that pile of human waste remain alive feels like a punishment. Though this last visit did scratch an itch.
When Pietra finds out what I did to my father today, I’ll never hear the end of it. I’m pretty sure I already have a few texts from her, too. But I don’t need to read them to know what they say.
What’s the point of her keeping him healthy enough to avoid another heart attack if I’m just going to beat the shit out of him every time I’m in one of my moods?
“How about you call it a night?” Moretti says with a smile, the same bright one Rocco must have inherited. “After a visit likethat, you’ve earned some downtime. Even if it’s just to burn off some steam.”
I need a release, alright, but I doubt I’ll get much of it tonight. Not when the woman I love is in another state. And not when my asshole of a father is still drawing breath.
We say our goodbyes, then get into Niccolò’s car and drive home. Knowing I’m not in the right frame of mind tonight, Niccolò keeps his eyes on the road, forgoing any conversation.
I check my watch and see it’s a quarter to midnight. The day is almost over, and I haven’t even been able to hear her voice.
Usually, at this time, I’d already be on the phone with Anna. But with her celebrating her birthday, she couldn’t exactly excuse herself from her own party just to call me. That would raise too many red flags and undermine everything I’ve worked hard to avoid, mainly getting caught by her family.
“You want me to come up? Grab a drink?” Niccolò asks when he pulls up outside our building.
“No. I think I’ll just answer a few emails and then go to bed.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, restlessly tapping the steering wheel with his fingers.
“I’m sure. You go on ahead.”
Friday nights usually mean Niccolò is itching to head to his underground fight club to crack some skulls with his bare fists. Normally, I would alert him of the dangers of getting into a cage to fight some nobody, but tonight I don’t have the energy to chastise him about it.
I step out of the car, surprised when Niccolò doesn’t start the engine right away. I lean down to the window, waiting for him to say what’s on his mind.
“You can’t kill him, Matteo. Whatever he said to you today… just remember… you can’t kill him.”
The thing is, our father usually doesn’t even have time to open his mouth before I’m already on him, punching, kicking,cutting. But I don’t correct my brother’s assumption. If he knew how many times I’ve come close to doing exactly that, he’d probably hide our father from me, just to make sure I didn’t end up killing the bastard in one of my blind rages.
I give Niccolò a curt nod, and it’s enough to ease his concern. Then I step onto the curb and watch him merge into the late-night Manhattan traffic.
Striding through the lobby of my building, I make my way to the elevator. When the doors close and I catch my reflection, confronted with my ragged look, I let out an aggravated exhale.
I should be walking on sunshine. Most men don’t get to talk to their girls at night the way I do with mine. The intimacy we share is beyond anything most people will ever experience with their significant other. But one thing they get to do that I don’t is touch their woman. They get to hold her. To kiss her on her goddamn birthday.Cazzo.
Even if it weren’t Anna’s birthday, even if it were just a regular day, I’d still feel on edge. Ever since our calls turned physical, it’s getting harder and harder to stay away from her.
The irony of it all is that these night-time calls are all I have. All I will ever have. Once they end, I’ll have nothing. The second I steal Anna from her family, the last thing she’ll want is for me to touch her. To hold her in my arms. To kiss her lips. To whisper in her ear how in love with her I am.
She will cease to bemyAnna. When that day comes, I’ll be met with an entirely different Annamaria. All that awaits me is curses and words sharp enough to cut. Words meant to make me bleed.
Maybe that’s the real reason for my sudden temper. Because I know the woman I’ve fallen for will hate me for all eternity. And I’ll have to live knowing I earned every bit of that hate.
“Matteo?” my mother calls from the couch the second she hears me walk through the door.
“Buonasera, Mamma.”
