Chapter 4 #3
Julian smiles sheepishly. “You look good in everything.”
Eivor agrees with a noise of approval, one that makes my stomach hurt, and I watch Rosalie shrink back slightly. Protectiveness wells up in my chest and I glare at him. He ignores it.
“For you, Julian. As the newest addition to my darling neice’s heart, and hopefully, if I may say, the last one.” Eivor allows Patricia to hand Rosalie a wrapped gift, and Rosalie hands it to Julian.
“Julian gets a fucking family hierloom...I get a giftcard for coffee,” I grumble to myself as I ascend the stairs to the top of one of the most expensive hotels in Italy. “Of course.” I roll my eyes.
It’s not like I actually care about getting some old gun that doesn’t even work safely anymore.
It’s the fact that Julian and Rosalie have only been dating a few months that bothers me.
Julian has been part of our family, working as a guard, for five years now.
I know he’s trustworthy, I know he’s decent at his job, but he hasn’t proven himself anymore than anyone else.
He hasn’t saved anyone’s life or put his own life on the line, not really.
Not like me, my cousins, even Rosalie. The loyalty I feel from him hangs on a thin thread.
He could up and leave anytime he wants and not have much to lose or gain.
So, why does he get the gun? If anyone should be hanging onto it, it’s not some guy that’ll probably only be around another few months until he breaks Rosalie’s heart and hops into the next crime lord lap to work.
I push the door to the rooftop open as quietly as possible. The strong wind at the top of the building helps conceal the noise along with the building creaking and groaning every now and then.
It’s colder up here than down on the groud level. It nips at my cheeks and nose, but I don’t care.
I need to focus on why I’m here. Not my uncle, not my sister, nor her boyfriend who my uncle seems to be giving special attention to lately.
After spending most of the day sleeping, I wanted to stay in bed, but I was alerted that Carmine was on the move again. I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m not. He’s going through some shit, and clearly needs to keep himself distracted.
I can’t say I blame him, and frankly I prefer him doing some shady deal on a rooftop over getting fucked in the back corner of a club.
My groin heats at the thought, and my chest tightens. The last thing I need to think about is Carmine with...them. Using each other, drunk and drugged. Using him. I grind my teeth as I ease toward the edge of one of the water towers on top of the roof that hides my presence.
I can see Carmine there, the back of his shoulder and the side of his face. I can barely see the face of the other person. I can’t hear them.
“Son of a bitch,” I mumble. If I can’t hear and can’t see, why am I even here?
Eivor didn’t even ask me to be here. I’m just here. I can’t seem to stay away from him. Even in the shadows, watching at a distance. Watching as he moves closer and closer to this other man.
My pulse quickens as I realize what this might be.
What if he’s meeting him to hook up?
It wouldn’t be odd. It makes sense with everything going on, hell it would make sense even more. He’s a man; he has needs. I didn’t think those needs included other men until the night at the club, but...
So, why do I feel my fists tightening just thinking about Carmine being kissed by this stranger?
I shift, trying to get a better view. My boots make a slight scuff on the ground and I stay completely still as Carmine looks to the side. He looks right in my direction.
For a brief second, I think I’m caught, but then he looks away.
I exhale slowly and move again, until I can see them more from the side. My gloved hands slide on the edge of the water tank with a metallic slink.
There they are. Carmine, bundled up in a black peacoat with a fur lined hood. His neatly combed hair wind blown and hanging over his forehead in stringy pieces that have gotten close. And another man. Tall, broad, with sunglasses on even though it’s nearly dark.
Suddenly, the bigger man grabs Carmine by the front of his shirt and yanks him closer. Carmine grabs his arm.
Instinctively, I reach toward my gun.
Wait.
I’m not supposed to be here.
Still, if Carmine is in trouble, would he blame me for coming out of the shows to save his ass? Perhaps not.
Whether or not Carmine will be upset knowing I’ve been watching him isn’t the real question.
That question is, will Eivor be displeased?
Uncle Eivor would probably prefer that I let Carmine be injured or killed here on this rooftop. He’d be happy for each and every Dresvanni to be taken out so he could take over entirely. Even if his current plan has us protecting them to get into the club.
I don’t want that.
I try to tell myself it’s only because Alessio will never work with me if Carmine is killed, and Alessio is exactly who is next in line to be in charge.
Still, I keep my eyes on them.
Carmine’s voice raises just enough that I hear him say, “You don’t want to—”
Then the man lets him go, and he adjusts his coat before taking a step back. His eyes narrowed and hot with irritation.
Even as I watch the deal go on without anymore immediate danger, I’m presented with an internal conflict.
If it comes down to it, will I protect Carmine Dresvanni?
Yes. Yes I will.