15. VIN
VIN
The bottle is empty. So are the two next to it.
Aurelio’s crystal decanter is empty too, which I don’t remember finishing, and there’s a glass somewhere on the floor that I dropped around dawn and didn’t bother to retrieve.
My current status: laid out on the floor of my living room on the Demonio estate. It’s a private island in the middle of the bay where my family has lived for decades, hidden away from everyone and everything, which is fucking perfect as far as I’m concerned.
Now that Aurelio is gone, I’ve taken up residence here again. And for the past few days, I’ve been holed up trying to process the shit show that is my fucking life.
Nobody is supposed to come here unless I say so. The front door opens anyway. It could only be my brothers. No one else is even allowed on this island without my express consent.
I don’t move as they come down the hall, just lay there staring up at the ceiling. I can’t tell if the fan is on or if I’m so fucking wasted that I’m imagining it spinning in circles.
I feel them stop in the doorway and stare at me. I don’t look up.
“Jesus Christ.” Matti groans. “This is where you’ve been? What you’ve been doing? The fuck?”
Tommy picks up the glass off the floor and sets it heavily on the coffee table.
I roll my eyes. “Go home, Matti. You too, Tommy.”
“Vin—”
“I said go home.”
Silence, then the sound of Matti crossing the room, throwing open the heavy curtains. Winter light floods in, fucking bright and brutal, and I squint.
“The fuck are you doing?”
“When was the last fucking time you touched grass, bro?” He turns and looks at me fully. When the double vision I’m seeing converges, I can see how stressed out he is. “When did you last eat?”
“Not hungry.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Tommy has settled into the chair by the window. He’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the empty bottles lined up on the desk like headstones. I can practically see the fucker calculating how much I’ve had to drink per day since I’ve been here.
“Ronan called me,” Matti says.
“Good for Ronan.”
“He called Tommy, too. And Declan called me separately, which means they’re coordinating, which means they’re worried, which means we are about to have a problem.
” He pulls up a chair next to where I’m lying on the floor, sets his forearms on his knees, looking down at me. “What the hell is going on with you?”
What’s going on with me? I’ve been wasted for… I don’t know how long. Days, I think. I have no idea what day it is. No idea what time it is. Can’t remember the last time I showered. Or ate. I’ve put my fist through more walls than I can count—
“Nothing is going on with me.”
Matti stares at me for a long moment. “Vin.”
“I’m fine.”
Tommy clears his throat. ”You’ve ingested a year’s supply of liquor by yourself over the course of two weeks—“
Two weeks? Shit.
“—and you won’t return calls from the family that you are not only building an alliance with for our entire organization but the family you’re marrying into imminently.”
I blow out a breath and close my eyes, rubbing my hands over my face.
Matti interjects. “That’s not fine.”
“I’ll call them back.”
“When?”
“When I’m ready.”
“Ronan is asking questions we don’t have answers to,” Tommy says.
“What questions?” I really don’t fucking care.
“Why the boss has evaporated for weeks in the middle of planning a funeral, a wedding, and the consolidation of an alliance,” Tommy says evenly.
“It looks like weakness, Vin,” says Matti. “They’re not saying it yet but they will soon.”
“There’s no weakness.”
“There are four empty whiskey bottles in this room alone and six holes in the wall in the hallway. I’m willing to bet there are more of both if I looked around.” Tommy isn’t judgmental, just stating facts.
Matti, on the other hand: “You want to tell us what this is actually about?”
I ease up to a seated position on the floor, think better of it, and scoot back until I’m leaning against the coffee table. “No.”
“Is it Sophie?”
I can’t hide a snarl. “Don’t.”
“Vin—”
“Fucking don’t! That’s not what this is.”
Matti is quiet for a minute. I can feel him and Tommy exchanging looks over my head, but I don’t give a fuck.
Matti tries again. “If it’s Sophie that’s stopping you from—”
I’m across the room, my glass shattering on the floor and shatters, and grabbing him before he can finish.
But I’m slow, awkward, wasted, and he’s ready for me, throwing me off him.
I get my hands up in time to stop from going face-first into the fireplace.
I spin and hit him, a real hit, and then we’re in it.
I’m swinging but Matti’s elbow connects with my jaw hard enough to make my vision white at the edges. I shake my head trying to make my double vision singular, and Matti hits me again. Before I can respond, Tommy is between us, one hand on each of our chests.
He sounds almost bored. ”Stop.”
I shove Tommy’s hand off me and straighten my shirt as Matii wipes blood off his lower lip with the back of his hand. I touch my jaw, and the throbbing pain feels grounding.
Matti pulls back. I straighten, touching my jaw, feeling the throb of pain pulse steadily. Matti looks at the blood and then at me.
“You’re done,” I tell him. “Both of you. Get the fuck off my island.”
Neither says anything for a moment, then finally Tommy speaks. “Vin, this isn’t a negotiable situation at this point. To blow them off now puts everyone at risk—”
“Get. The fuck. Out.”
Tommy and Matti exchange a look as I grab the half empty bottle of whiskey.
“The funeral, Vin.” Tommy is talking to me like I’m fucking slow. “You have to set the date. And you have to call Ronan. That’s it.”
“Fine,” I say. The word comes out as empty as the bottles on the desk. “Set the date.”
Matti exhales hard. “Do you want to be the boss, Vin?” he asks quietly.
Do I want to be boss? No. Not if it means being without Sophie.
“I am the fucking boss,” I snap at him, rubbing a hand over my face. “Now get out.”
“If you’re the boss, then act like it.” Matti stands and straightens his jacket, then steps out, leaving me and Tommy alone.
Tommy looks at me for a long moment. “You’re going to be okay,” he says.
I scoff. “You say that like you already know a path out of this, but are going to let me figure it out on my own. If you know how to fix this, please, fucking enlighten me.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t have enough information to offer you a plan. But if you want to share more details with me as your consigliere, I could probably help.”
I look down at the floor, staring at the designs in the carpet. There are no details that dig me out of a marriage I don’t want into a life with a woman I need.
“Get. The fuck. Out.”
By the time I settle back in the chair, broken glass at my feet, I’m alone.