FIFTEEN #3
‘He would actually have to answer his fucking phone first,’ she retorted – but her voice softened, perhaps sensing I wasn’t really laughing. ‘So, tell him to stop hiding, and to send me the damn receipts for the last month.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said, swivelling on the road. With a click, the call ended.
Shaking my head, I stared at the road. Vinnie and Bianca were like oil and fire – volatile as hell, always on the edge of combustion.
And yet they still circled each other.
Something about that hit that tender spot inside, like a pang of something odd I didn’t understand. Because five minutes ago, I had been staring down the man who’d taught me pain – and I’d learnt to bury feelings – good and bad. Now they were too many. Too raw. Too close.
Vinnie and his ex-wife had had a normal history, something to fight about. I wasn’t sure I had that kind of connection with anyone.
I’d been with women to get the edge off, and never with the same one twice. The moment the past, the future, or feelings threatened to erupt, I knew it would all take the dive. I couldn’t fucking deal with it.
I called my best friend, this time determined to drag him out for coffee. A quick text to Paula saying Vinnie and I had something scheduled, and that was the morning done.
The rest of the drive was spent in a fog of self-reflection.
The cracked asphalt stretched endlessly ahead, heat shimmering in waves like an open wound beneath the sun’s glare.
What the hell was I going to do about Ezio? I trusted him about as far as I could throw him.
He awakened something in me decades ago – a beast I thought I’d long since caged. I’d told myself I was heartless. Hollow. But if I’d been truly empty, I’d have fucking finished him. Back then, and every single time I’d gone to see him since.
Or, maybe, that beast thrived on something deeper and darker, watching his body writhe between life and death, plugged into all those machines.
I averted my gaze to the horizon. Summer was slowly creeping in with the whole of its oppressive atmosphere. Sunlight poured through the windscreen, warping the road ahead into a mirage.
It was only May, but it felt like August. Sweat clung to my neck, my shirt plastered to my back despite the AC fighting a losing battle.
At least the coffee here was strong enough to wake the dead.
The café I chose was tucked down a narrow side street – shade-drenched, whisper-quiet even if it was in the middle of Rome. The kind of place where secrets liked to settle.
Wrought-iron tables scattered across cobblestones beneath scalloped black awnings. The aroma of espresso bled into the scent of lavender drifting from the florist next door.
It didn’t calm me. But it gave my thoughts somewhere to land, at least.
I downed my first cup in a single gulp, the sharp bitterness jolting through and waking a portion of me. It kept the exhaustion at bay – but did nothing to stop the thoughts circling in my head. I waved down the waitress for another, knowing I would need it.
Vinnie arrived surprisingly on time. I watched as he strode across the road, the sunlight glinting off the lenses of his sunglasses.
He wore a pair of short khakis and fucking flip-flops – a sight I would never get used to – and his hair was tied into a half ponytail.
That was new. He used to stick to a polished, slicked-back look, but summer had clearly loosened him up.
‘You’re late,’ I said, my voice flat as he pulled out the chair across from me. The tiny, round table looked laughable between us, barely big enough for our arms, let alone the broad stretch of our shoulders.
‘I’m three minutes late, Cain,’ he said, amusement playing over his lips. ‘Get that stick out of your ass.’ He gestured at my empty cup before glancing at the waitress, silently ordering another round, and some tea for himself.
His grin faded as he leaned closer, his demeanour gaining a conspiratorial edge.
‘Last night went well?’
I don’t know why I felt the need to tell him to fuck off. He was the one always fixing shit for me since grade school. He’d been the one who’d said to get the money we had and fuck off from the States. And he’d been against taking Ezio with us, as well.
But Scarlett was getting under my skin. She was my drug, my exhaust vent. And the longer I spent with her, the more I needed her.
‘Yeah,’ I said, watching his reaction carefully. ‘I wanted to talk to you outside of the office.’
I let the chair catch my back as the waitress placed our cups on the table. His gaze – predictably – landed on her arse, and I nearly rolled my eyes at that. At forty-four, the fucker was still stuck in his twenties.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked, finally snapping back into reality as she collected the empty cups and left us in blissful calm.
‘I want a background check on Paula.’
Vinnie’s usually casual demeanour didn’t falter much, but I caught it – the faint tightening around his eyes, the slight tick in his jaw.
For all his banter and upbeat front, Vinnie wasn’t soft.
He was a bull wrapped in sheep’s clothing, and the intensity in his gaze now made me feel like a kid under a parent’s scrutiny.
He tilted his chin in agreement, but his demeanour shifted. His eyes softened first, almost like he was trying to gauge the truth behind my interest. It wasn’t judgment, but it made my skin prickle all the same.
‘What?’ I grumbled, grabbing my espresso and taking a long sip.
‘Did you two…?’
He didn’t finish the sentence before my incredulous glare cut straight through it.
His lips quirked into a crooked grin, but his tone stayed a shade too casual. ‘All right, all right. I’ll make a few calls.’ Then, with a glint of something pointed in his gaze – part judgment, part reminder – he added, ‘You didn’t tell me – how’s Scarlett these days?’
It grated more than I would’ve admitted.
But this was Vinnie – my goddamn guardian angel in human form; the guy who’d dragged me out of too many fires to count, who’d never judged, never pushed.
Until now.
And yet, that question… it wasn’t just a nudge. There was a bite to it that made me wonder if he was playing the part of my unfated brother – or throwing his own gambling chips onto the table.
It did get me thinking, however: Scarlett was the fantasy. Paula was the fracture.
One burned bright enough to blind me. The other cracked something open I hadn’t known was still bleeding.
I stiffened, lowered my cup, and shot him a look harsh enough to relay the message: back off – and followed up with an indifferent, ‘What about her?’
He shrugged, but the grin didn’t fade. ‘Nothing. Just asking.’
I’d told him a little about Scarlett, enough for him to tease me, but not enough for him to understand. He didn’t know how deeply she’d wormed her way into my head, how she had unravelled me in ways I hadn’t thought possible.
‘She’s fine,’ I said curtly, brushing off the question. ‘We’re fine.’ But the truth was, Scarlett wasn’t the one I’d been thinking about all morning.
It was Paula.
And that realisation didn’t sit well with me.
‘And call your fucking ex. She needs receipts,’ I said, swiftly steering the conversation away.
Vinnie’s face twisted into theatrical exasperation as he rolled his eyes so hard, I thought they might pop out.
‘Witch,’ he muttered, mostly to himself, rubbing his face like he could scrub the irritation away. ‘I’ll take care of it today. Sorry she bothered you.’
‘It’s fine. She’s our accountant, and a damn good one. What’s going on with you two now?’ I asked, though I knew better than to expect an honest answer.
He shook his head, dismissing the topic with a few lazy waves of his hand. ‘I am not nearly drunk enough to talk about that. I’ve got to run, anyway. I’ll let you know after I make some calls about the… thing.’
Vinnie drained his tea in one go, nodded, and vanished – a hurricane in flip-flops.
I suspected managing a business was hard. Plus, all the odd things he had to do for me. But lately, we’d hardly sat down and talked properly. He’d always been in a rush. But that was the current state of things – especially this close to a book release.
So I stayed where I was.
The clink of cups. The murmur of Italian voices. Laughter curling around the morning.
It should have felt idyllic. Safe. Ordinary. But my thoughts were razors.
Scarlett. Paula. Ezio. Apparitions and tormentors – all of them.