Chapter 15 #2
About you. About the way your lips curve when you're trying not to smile.
About how badly I want to touch you.
"Nothing important," I lie.
Antonella tilts her head.
"You're doing it again," she says.
"Doing what?"
"Looking at me like that."
My chest tightens. "Like what?"
"I don't know. Like you're trying to figure something out."
She's not wrong.
"You're beautiful."
The words come out before I can stop them.
Antonella goes still.
I watch her face. The surprise. The confusion. The slight parting of her lips.
Fuck.
"I shouldn't have said that." I grip the wheels of my chair. Start to turn. "I should go."
"Bruno—"
"This was a mistake. Coming here. Waking you up. All of it."
"Bruno, stop."
I freeze.
"Stay," she says.
"Why?"
"Because I asked you to."
"That's not a reason."
"It's the only one I have."
I should leave. I know I should leave.
But I don't move.
"I don't understand you," I say.
"That makes two of us."
Antonella shifts on the bed, tucking her legs beneath her. The movement is casual. Natural. Like she's settling in for a long conversation.
"Can I ask you something?" she says.
"You've been asking me things until now."
"One more."
"Fine."
"What was school like for you?"
I stare at her. "School?"
"Yes. High school. College. Whatever."
"Why do you want to know about that?"
She shrugs. "We have a nineteen-year gap. I'm curious what things were like back then."
"Back then." I let out a breath that's almost a laugh. "You make it sound ancient."
"Wasn't it?"
"I'm forty, not eighty."
"Still." She grins. "Did you have cell phones?"
"We had cell phones."
"What about the internet?"
"Yes, Antonella. We had the internet."
"But not like now, right? No social media?"
"No social media."
"That sounds peaceful."
"It was different."
She leans forward slightly. "Different how?"
"We talked to each other," I say. "Face to face. If you wanted to know something about someone, you had to ask them directly."
"Sounds terrifying."
"It was normal."
"What were you like? In school?"
"Focused."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the truth. I knew what I was being groomed for. What my future held. There wasn't time for..." I trail off.
"For what?"
"For being young."
Something shifts in her expression. Softens.
"That's sad," she says quietly.
"It's just how it was."
"Did you have friends?"
"I had brothers."
"That's not the same thing."
"It was enough."
She's quiet for a moment. Processing.
"I had friends," she says. "Before everything fell apart. Before my mother got sick and my father started gambling. I had a whole life planned out."
"The bakery."
"The bakery." She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Seems stupid now."
"It's not stupid."
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
The sound cuts through the moment like a blade.
I pull it out. Pietro's name on the screen.
"I need to take this."
Antonella nods.
I answer. "What?"
"We have a situation." Pietro's voice is tight. Controlled. "Warehouse on the south side. One of our shipments got hit."
"Hit by who?"
"That's what we need to find out. I need you here. Now."
"I'm on my way."
I end the call.
Antonella is watching me. Her expression careful. Guarded.
"You have to go," she says. Not a question.
"Yes."
"Is everything okay?"
"No."
I don't elaborate. She doesn't ask.
"Will you be back before your mother arrives?"
"I don't know."
She nods slowly. Accepts it.
I grip the wheels of my chair. Start to turn toward the door.
"Bruno."
I stop.
She slides off the bed. Crosses the distance between us.
And then she's kneeling.
Right in front of my chair.
Eye level with me.
"What are you—"
She leans in.
Her lips brush my cheek.
Soft. Warm.
The contact lasts maybe two seconds.
It destroys me.
I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't move.
She pulls back. Looks at me with those green eyes.
"Be careful," she says.
I don't respond.
I can't.
I wheel myself out of her room without a word. Down the hallway. Away from her.
My hands shake on the wheels.
What the fuck was that?
A kiss on the cheek. Nothing. A gesture. The kind of thing people do every day without thinking.
So why does my chest feel like it's caving in?
I push harder. Faster.
Pietro's office is on the other side of the compound. I know the route by heart. Could navigate it blind.
But tonight the hallways feel longer. The shadows deeper.
Something is wrong with me.
There's a pressure building behind my eyes. A tightness in my throat that won't ease no matter how many times I swallow.
I stop in the middle of the corridor.
My hands grip the wheels until my knuckles go white.
The feeling rises from somewhere deep. Somewhere I buried years ago. Decades ago.
It hurts.
Not my legs. Not my back. Not any of the places that usually scream at me.
This is different.
This is worse.
My vision blurs.
No.
No, no, no.
I blink rapidly. Force the sensation back down.
But it won't stay.
It claws its way up my chest. Wraps around my throat. Presses against the backs of my eyes with relentless pressure.
I'm going to cry.
The realization hits me like a bullet.
I'm going to fucking cry.
I haven't cried since I was a boy. Since my father beat the tears out of me and told me Sartori men don't weep. Since I learned to lock everything away in a box so deep even I couldn't find it.
But she found it.
With one kiss on the cheek.
One moment of tenderness I didn't ask for. Didn't deserve.
She cracked something open inside me and now I can't close it again.
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
The tears don't fall. I won't let them.
But they're there. Waiting. Patient.
Like they've been waiting for years.
I drop my hands. Stare at the empty hallway ahead.
Pietro is waiting. There's a situation that needs handling. A test I need to pass.
I can't fall apart now.
I won't.