Chapter 30
Aslight buzzing wakes me. I’m again disoriented as to the time, but I know it’s nighttime now, the windows dark.
Rafael’s phone vibrates against the cherry wood nightstand, Enzo’s name a blur on the screen. The man beside me doesn’t even stir as I lean forward and grab the phone. Must be the alcohol. I didn’t peg Raf as a heavy sleeper.
I let the call go, thinking it’s not my place to answer it but then it rings again and images of Sienna and Nova come to mind. What if something’s happened, and I was stupid enough not to grab my own phone. What if Clarabell’s tried to call?
I answer.
“Raf, I can’t find her.”
“Who?” I say, frantically sitting up. Rafael stirs once, rolling onto his back.
“Lucy?”
“Yes, who can’t you find, Enzo? Is Nova alright?”
“You, baby. I couldn’t find you. I tried calling you and you didn’t answer. I checked your room, and you weren’t there. Why do you have Raf’s phone?”
“I—uh…” I glance over at Rafael, wishing I could punch him into consciousness so he could take over this conversation but he looks peaceful for once.
“Are you in my brother’s bed, baby? You know you should be in mine, where you belong.” The mischievous grin is clear in his tone, obviously teasing instead of reprimanding.
“His bed has silk sheets.” Even though he can’t see me, I lift my brow. The sass is a natural reaction with Enzo.
“I can get those. I’ll give you anything you want.” His voice deepens now, more serious than before.
How about forgiveness…
“Can you get me something to eat? I’m starving.” My stomach grumbles as I say it.
“I’m on it.” I hear a shuffling of sheets and then a door shut. “Be up in a minute. Wake Rafael, baby, make him eat you before you eat.”
“Enzo!”
The phone call ends, and I lay back in bed, curling into Rafael’s side as his deep breaths make my head rise and fall.
His heart beats steadily under my ear, the deep thrum a calming melody.
His arm circles around my shoulders, pulling me closer in his sleep and for the first time in…
forever, a spark of something foreign flickers inside me. Is this what hope is?
***
“This wonderful creation is called French toast.” Enzo slides a plate toward me of pan fried bread smothered in cinnamon, syrup, and powdered sugar. Another dish I had yet to try. Nova assured me French toast is an absolute necessity in life.
Enzo sits on the bed across from me as I lean back against the headboard. Rafael slumps next to me, nursing a glorious hangover. His pinched features and deep frown make me hide a smile. “It’s three in the fucking morning. Why are you here, Enzo?”
“Our girl was hungry. Did you do your due diligence and feed her an orgasm before breakfast?”
Raf simply tilts his head and rubs at his temples. “No, I didn’t, I’m dying of alcohol poisoning, you daft fuck.”
“Wouldn’t stop me.” Enzo shrugs, sprinkling a bit more powdered sugar over the French toast
“If I find a single crumb in my bed, I’m skinning you both alive.”
“That’s a bit dramatic,” I mumble and Rafael shoots daggers at me.
“See, told you,” Enzo chimes in, lifting a fork to my mouth and I open, sliding the sugary delight from the fork tines with my teeth.
The buttery, sweet smell was enough to have me salivating but as soon as it hits my tongue, I’m moaning and dying for more.
“Hmm, okay, yeah. This is my favorite so far.”
“Even better than the pretzels?”
“Way better.”
“Wait till you try fried Oreos.” Enzo smirks.
Raf slides from the bed with a groan. “I’m taking a shower.”
Enzo and I hide a snicker. “He’s a terrible person when he’s hungover. Grumpy as shit.” His fork points toward his retreating brother, the bathroom door slamming a moment later.
The nice twin who feeds me orgasms and French toast leans in and kisses me, his kiss the perfect mix of dark and light, rough and gentle, intoxicating and sobering all at once.
When he leans back, taking another bite, I lick my lips before asking what’s been on my mind. “Can I ask you something?”
“Ask away, doesn’t mean I’ll answer,” he says around a mouthful.
“Nova told me about what you and Raf do for her mom. That you’ve offered her a way out, but she didn’t take it. She told me she has a bigger purpose here. Care to elaborate?”
His gaze flicks up to meet mine, his chewing halts. “I can.”
“Really?”
“But I won’t.”
My shoulders fall. “Why not?”
“It’s not your business, Lucy. I’m head over fucking heels for you, baby, but that’s one secret I can’t tell you. You have to trust us, okay?”
I bite my bottom lip. “So, I have to trust you, but you can’t trust me?”
He nods as he moves the plate to the bedside table. “You’re right. A bit hypocritical of us, huh?”
I lift a brow and tilt my head, sneaking one last bite into my mouth before taking the plate and setting it aside. Enzo stabs one last piece and shoves it into his mouth. “A bit hypocritical?”
“Alright, tiger. Calm yourself. We’ve been having a nice morning. No need to ruin it with your mouth.” Laying down on his back, he curves a single finger at me. “Come here.”
“No.”
“Maledizione, donna. For two fucking seconds, don’t be fucking stubborn. I told you I can’t tell you; I never said you couldn’t find the truth on your own.”
He’s piqued my curiosity so despite his stupid mouth, I crawl to him, and he tucks me into his right side.
“What do you see?”
“What?”
His fingers trail circles along my shoulder. “In front of you, what do you see?”
“Umm, a wall of bookcases, a bunch of books on them.”
Rafael’s deep blue wall crowds with hundreds of books. “You know, my Mamma used to write in these journals. She had probably a hundred or more. Constantly writing down ideas, wishes, dreams.”
My head lifts as I inspect the books closely. “Are those her journals?”
“No, most of them are in storage.” He checks his wrist despite not wearing a watch.
“Look at the time, I’ve got to run.” Lifting from the bed, he runs his fingers through his hair, securing it back into a low bun.
“Fun fact, Rafael takes exactly ten minutes to shower, he’s a pretty punctual guy. It’s been five.”
He shuts the door behind him, and I launch from the bed, scrambling to the shelves.
His mother’s journal. It wouldn’t be in any obvious place, most likely not eye level, but I can’t reach the top three shelves so I’m going to have to hope it’s low.
I fall to my knees, running my fingers over the spines.
I search title after title until I get to the second to last shelf, spotting a leatherbound book without words on the spine. I glance toward the bathroom and hear the shower still running.
Pulling the book from the shelf, I open it gently, expecting some kind of boobytrap or an alarm to start blaring, but nothing. The gentle cursive script tells me I’ve got it. I finger through the pages until something catches my eye.
Cloud Nine
I read the page, then the next and the next. I keep reading, absorbing it all like a sponge. It’s all laid out. Scoffing, I close the book and throw my head back. Fucking woman was brilliant.
She planned it all, every step of Dante’s downfall. Cloud Nine was her idea, her boys are merely her executioners.
The shower shuts off and I scramble to put the journal back, exactly as I found it, dropping it in the process. When I pick it up, a white feather flutters to the ground.
Picking it up, I twirl it in my hands, remembering when I held it last. My heart thunders like a brewing storm, my stomach turning over with the weight of my guilt.
The shutting of a cabinet jolts me from my hypnosis, and I replace the feather and the journal, standing seconds before the door opens. Rafael steps out, glancing from me to the bookshelves. “What are you doing?”
I step closer to him, trailing my fingers over the spines of his novels. “You like to read.”
“You didn’t answer my questions,” his thumb drags against my neck, right over my pulse, “and your heart’s racing, bellissima.”
“I…was thinking about you.”
The lie feels like salt on my tongue. I don’t like lying more than I have to but clearly Enzo doesn’t want him to know he gave me the tip.
“You’re lying.”
I hate how I can’t deceive this man, how he can see through me like glass. “I’m not.” I run the tip of my finger along the edge of the towel wrapped around his waist. “I just…am afraid to admit what I was really thinking about.”
“And what was that?” He encircles my throat as his thumb tips my chin up. He’s as tall as his brother, 6’4. I’m barefoot and a half inch taller than five feet. The top of my head barely reaches his collar bones, so I rise on my toes to get closer to his lips.
But he doesn’t kneel to meet me, in fact, he tilts his chin higher, looking down at me with a smoldering appraisal. “Hmm?” he hums, encouraging my answer.
“I was thinking of what it would be like to…have you in my mouth.”
His pupils flare wide, jaw clenching as he pulls in a long breath.
“You want to taste me, Lucy?” The hand not holding my throat comes up, resting along my jaw, his thumb slowly dragging down my bottom lip.
He tracks the movement like a heat seeking missile.
When my bottom lip pulls down, my jaw follows and his thumb slips inside my mouth. “Suck, bellissima.”
My lips close around his thumb and I swallow hard, little kamikaze butterflies ricochetting off my rib cage.
The door bursts open behind us and I startle back. Enzo leans against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. “Oops, was I interrupting something?”
Rafael glowers at his brother. “Get the fuck out.”
Enzo must have balls of brass as he saunters into the room, interlacing our fingers and pulling me into him. “No can do, I’ve got a date with the doc.”
“Sei il mio peggior incubo, Fratellino,” Raf huffs, calling his brother his worst nightmare, as Enzo pulls me from the room and I can’t help but giggle at Rafael’s furious stare and the tent in his towel.