Chapter 16 #2
“And you’re nothing but a wounded animal, crying and bleeding all over the place.
Must be nice to have a new target to take all that hate out on, huh?
” he says with that half-assed smile, still not at all impacted by my words.
“Don’t worry, Cattivella. You can try all you like to drive me out, but I’m here to stay. ”
“Stop calling me that! I don’t want you anywhere near me!
I can’t believe I actually slept with you,” I spit furiously, all those mixed emotions rising to the surface with nowhere to go.
I want to shove him over the cliff and, be done with this asshole who acts as if he has a right to dig into my life, when he’s far from welcome.
“You came up here expecting answers from me, but you won’t return them.
Tell me, Romi, what happened to Lorraine?
What really happened to fuck with you this badly that you try to do everything you can to forget?
You think I’m the asshole, but at least one of us is making sure you’re eating daily and actually showering. ”
The mention of Lorraine is my snapping point. “Don’t pretend that you know me! You know nothing about me! You’re nothing but a condescending asshole who clearly has a brother complex.”
His eyes darken. “What did you say?” It sobers my mood instantly, the boiling rage receding quickly when I realize I have his full attention, and it’s scarier than the arrogant version of him. No, this part of him is lethal.
“Let me be clear about one thing, sweetheart. I’ll answer all of your questions, but there is no way in words I can explain the complex relationship between my brother and me, so I suggest you don’t bring it up again.”
I can’t help but scoff. “Then don’t ask me about Lorraine ever again.”
We stare at one another before he turns back to the view.
What the fuck is happening right now? The Italian mafia?
Lily’s involved? How much have I missed?
How oblivious have I been? Lorenzo Moretti has been by her side for months.
I thought it was strange but never questioned her new "boyfriend" who acted like more of a bodyguard.
The lightbulb flicks on. Was he protecting her from something?
And even before then, he was always around Ara and Luca.
Oh my God.
“Are Luca and Ara involved with the Italian mafia as well?”
“I say this with utmost caution to you, because despite what you think of me, I do care about your safety. So, I would suggest against doing anything irrational, because I’d hate for us to be on opposite sides,” he cryptically warns.
“I could also get my ass handed to me for telling you this information. But I might accidently imply that the boss I work for is a certain six-foot-four, ridiculously attractive male with blue eyes, who often does business within the same high-society circles you live in.”
“You’ve just described Luca Armani.”
“Did I?” he says, as if he has no idea what I’m talking about.
Oh my fucking God. Luca Armani is the Italian mafia boss? What the fuck? And that means Ara is…
My head is reeling. This is bigger than I ever imagined.
I’m not even hurt by the betrayal because I’m already so fucking emotionally numb, but it only deepens my anger.
I sit down for morning catch-ups with these women almost weekly.
Women whom I’ve always considered my friends.
How the fuck could I be so oblivious? Then again, no one suspects their friends are somehow involved with the mafia.
“Sienna and Elanee?” I question. “Do they know?”
“Sienna’s none the wiser.”
I stare at the ground in disbelief. His answer tells me that even Elanee is involved.
Is that why she’s always been so reserved?
Was Dmitri’s surgery really because of a brain tumor, or was there more to that as well?
How the fuck have I been so left in the dark?
Then again, I know I've put myself here, at least recently.
I look back to the handsome devil. “How are you so cavalier about all of this? None of this is fucking normal.”
“It’s as normal to me as anything else. After all, I was trained from the moment I could walk to be exactly this. It might not be your world, sweetheart, but it’s certainly the one I was raised in.”
That hits me hard. He was trained from childhood to be some crazy psychopathic killer?
I think of all the scars on his body. What kind of parents did he have?
A small amount of remorse trickles through me as I realize he means exactly what he says.
He knows no other way, nor is he apologetic for who he is.
If anything, it looks like he loves what he does.
“So, you pretend to be a doctor? Is that what you tell everyone so you can make friends or something?”
“I don’t do friends, Cattivella. And I never lied about that. Top of my class, and one year of residency away from being a surgeon. I just realized that life was a lie, and I was cutting open the wrong people.”
A shiver racks me. Cutting open the wrong people. He said it with such sickening pleasure.
“Why don’t we discuss this further at home so you have time to process all of it before you have more questions?” He steps forward, but I raise my finger.
“Don’t come near me. You stay the fuck away from me and my apartment. I don’t know what fucking game you were playing at moving in with me, but whatever it is, we’re done. I never want to see you again. Do you understand me?”
His mood seems to darken, and the hairs on my arms prickle to attention.
I don’t think; I just act. I lunge for his bike as he strides toward me.
I start the engine, then I'm kicking up dirt and stones in his direction as I peel out. And before I know it, I’m glancing at him in the side mirror, awkwardly placing my helmet on as I speed toward the city.
It’s been some time since I’ve driven a bike, but it feels good.
Exhilarating, even, as my heart pounds with all this knowledge.
I can’t get in any deeper. It’s as basic as that.
When you’re a child, you learn the stove is hot, and it’ll burn you.
This is the same kind of danger, except it won’t just blister my hand.
I know without doubt, it’ll light my entire world on fire.
And although I might’ve been doing that on my own, whatever Dante is bringing into my life will be a hundred times worse. I have to run.
When I return to the apartment building almost an hour later, I park the bike and then check my phone. A jolt of adrenaline runs through my veins as I read the last message sent from Dante.
Dante: I forgot to mention that I enjoy a hunt. When you run, Cattivella, I will always chase you.
A liquid warmth floods my core, and I curse myself as I take the stairs two at a time to my apartment. What the fuck is wrong with me? That should in no way whatsoever turn me on.
Dante is lethal, worse than deadly. He’s an arrogant fucker who thinks the world can’t touch him. To an extent, he’s probably right. It only crossed my mind once to call the cops, but I know without a doubt, in this situation, they’ll be useless.
I’m also used to fighting my battles on my own, and I’m sure as hell not being chased out of my own home by a monster who smirks like the devil and whose voice slides over my skin like a saint.
My specialty has always been putting men in their place, and although I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew in this circumstance, I still won’t drop to my knees for him.
The moment I’m inside the apartment, I run into his room, ignoring any pestering memories of Lorraine’s and my time in here. No, because right now I’m hellbent on packing all of his shit into the fucking bag he walked in with and throwing it onto the street next to his bike.
Fucking asshole.