Chapter 17
DANTE
Sky opens his visor the moment he pulls up beside me on the road I’ve been walking along for the last hour. He’s laughing as he hands me a helmet.
“She left you for dead, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up. And how do you know it was even her?” I growl as I snatch the helmet out of his hand. I’d only gained reception on my phone thirty minutes ago, and called Sky to come and get me. I then sent Romi a message. Unsurprisingly, she hasn’t replied.
“Because there’s no fucking way you’d let anyone else live if they took your bike. You wouldn’t let them even have the chance,” he says, hightailing it the moment I jump on behind him.
He’s right, though. I saw the thought the moment it sparked in her beautiful mind.
I was just impressed she acted on it immediately.
No second thoughts on whether she should leave me behind or not.
And I respect it. At least she intuitively understood the danger that I am.
However, it’ll do her very little good now.
Because I’m curious about my little rabbit.
It’s been a very long time since anything has truly grabbed my attention—especially a woman.
They’ve always been easy. All I have to do is smile, give them a little attention, and they're putty in my hands. Not Romi, though. She’s been like swallowing knives from the moment I met her.
I could be crucified for the information I provided her tonight, but I wanted to tell her the truth. I wanted to see what her breaking point truly was, and she’s not there yet. No, it’ll take more than this information to fracture her.
I’m not surprised when Sky returns me to the apartment building, and a bag of my shit has been tossed out beside my bike. I can’t help but smile as Sky laughs.
“Damn, you’re in the doghouse for real. What did you do?”
I hand him the second helmet, brushing my hand through my hair. “We had a little argument. That’s all.”
“An argument? My fucking God, you remind me of your brother sometimes. Do you know that?”
A tendril of ice runs through me because I hate being compared to my brother in any way.
As if picking up on my mood change, Sky adds, “He started having the same woman problems with Lily, who started out as a mission for him. I’m just saying, the pussy can’t be that good for you not to be thinking straight. ”
I grab him by the collar with lightning speed. “You’d better make sure you never refer to Romi Lutton's pussy again, or it’ll be the last time you have a tongue.”
He laughs harder, and my temple pulses. I let him go. I can’t fucking hate him even if I tried, because we’re too similar, and it’s not often I find someone who can play me at my own games and rile me up. It makes me like him even more.
“However, I have heard it helps to grovel. If, of course, you have it in you to get on your knees for the woman.”
I've been on my knees more than once for this woman already. And I think she’ll absolutely despise any type of groveling, especially when she never wants to see me again.
Even if I bloody my hands for fun, I can show her a "sweeter" side that I know she’ll absolutely hate. It won’t take long to antagonize her with kindness, and before we know it, she’ll be back in the palms of my hands, spitting fire.
I feel like the luckiest man alive as I throw the bag over my shoulder, knowing too well it doesn't hold all of my suits and clothing I’ve bought since living here.
When I look up at the apartment balcony, I half expect her to be standing there, flipping me off, but instead, the curtains are closed. I’m excited for the games to begin, because she now knows without a doubt who I really am. And after her sweet rejection, I want her even more.
I rev the bike with a smile on my face. I still consider that apartment my home, and I will be welcomed back again. But for now, I go to the only place that comes to mind.
I weave in and out of the early morning traffic as the sun begins to rise on the new day, then cut the engine when I arrive at Lorenzo’s house on the water.
I despise my brother, which is precisely why I always intended on breaking into his home and using it as my own.
I’ll piss on every corner of the house to mark my territory, just to infuriate him.
It won't take me long to get inside. I could ask Izak to do it for me on the down low, but I want Lorenzo to know I’m here, staking my claim.
When I break in through the back door, no alarms go off, not loudly anyway. It’s only a minute after I dump my bag on the counter that my brother is calling. I smirk as I look around for cameras. He seems like the paranoid type, so I randomly wave in every direction.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Lorenzo growls as I answer the phone.
“Hey, big brother. Yeah, my current living circumstance has had a little hiccup, and since you’re not here, I thought you might need someone to maintain the garden.”
“Get the fuck out.”
I poke out my bottom lip as I round the kitchen island and check what he has in the fridge. Fucking nothing. It’s all empty. Then again, they’ve been gone for almost two months. “You wouldn’t really throw your only family out onto the street, would you?”
“You gave up the chance for me to help you when you decided to throw away your career and told me you didn’t need my money or anything else from me anymore.”
I scoff. “I never needed your money, Lorenzo, and you know it. Don’t pretend like you haven’t tried to snoop into my financial affairs.”
Silence.
“At times, I think you truly fooled yourself into believing you had a different brother than the one you were raised with. You’re a hypocrite, despising me for being the exact same type of monster you are.”
“The difference is, I can rein myself in. You’re a wild animal. Whenever you let your emotions get the best of you, it turns into a shit show and a mess that I always have to bail you out of.”
“We’re not kids anymore, Lorenzo. So I went on a few massacres. They deserved it. You call it messy. I think of it as efficient. Anyway, unless you’re going to come here and kick me out yourself, I want to get some shuteye. It’s been a very long day of being messy.”
I hang up on him, knowing he won’t get on a private jet just to kick me out. He’s bound by duty to remain in Italy on Luca’s behalf, unless he’s permitted or called to come back.
I walk around to each room, bored with his dull tastes. The only thing I’ve ever admired about Lorenzo is his book collection, so I head to his office. I haven’t seen any cameras yet, so perhaps he doesn’t have any inside. I bet he does in Italy, though, to protect his new woman.
I think back to Romi’s reaction when she realized the friends closest to her have left her behind. They could’ve waved a red flag in front of her to get her attention, but it wouldn't have mattered, not with the self-destructive bubble she’s been in.
I wonder what she’ll do next.
I peruse the many titles in Lorenzo’s office library.
A lot of them are the same as the books my mother used to have in her library.
The same library where my father would sit silently for hours as he drank away every evening, mourning her, bleeding out all over the place as he pined for her ghost to visit him.
I barely remember her, but I remember my father’s firm hand after her passing.
When I circle around the wooden desk at the end of the room, I open the top drawers curiously, snooping to see if he has anything of interest. My gaze snags on a photo that’s burnt at the edges, and when I pull it out, I can’t help but try to shove down the lump forming in my throat.
It’s a photo of me as a pre-teen, my little sister, Milia, not even five years old, and Lorenzo, who had just shot up in height in his early teens. I was only a scrawny kid then.
The absence of our mother was the first fracture of our family. Milia’s death was the final crack to break my father and ensure his pursuit to ruin us in the process, blaming us for her death.
To some degree, we were responsible. But we were also children, whom he was happily willing to put on the front lines in training for what we’d become today: servants of the Armani family.
It was my father who took this photo, and I remember how much I hated that man, even then.
I fucking hate that Lorenzo was the one to kill him instead of me.
My anger rises to the surface, a living, breathing entity. And it's especially bad when it comes to my brother and our dysfunctional family.
It’s always infuriated me the way he shuns my nature when he’s no better. He simply thinks of himself as some fucking hero because of his control. I think of it as a weakness. I was always reprimanded for being unable to stop in training, even when we were kids.
Granted, not much has changed since then. My massacres are a testament to that. But I was the product of my upbringing—the perfect weapon, no matter how much Lorenzo tried to reshape that life for me.
I only ever wanted to fight by his side, but he started looking at me as a liability instead of an equal.
I place the photo back down, my fingers drifting over Milia's face. I barely remember her now. It’s as if, at times, I’ve never had a family at all. I am, however, surprised that Lorenzo clings to this photo. I never thought of him as the sentimental type.
And I don't care, because I’m not.
I only care about what fun is to be had. Up until this point, destroying my brother has been my sole focus, as I enjoy playing the long game of being the thorn in his side.
But now, I have a certain woman who is equally keeping me on my toes.
I lick my bottom lip, my cock growing hard at the mere thought of how I’ll irritate her next. Hopefully, to the point of explosion so she can hate-fuck me, using and abusing me as she does best.