09
Once again, I can’t sleep a wink all night. It only helped me to reach the conclusion that Matt had something to do with them. They never kill unless it’s necessary. At least that’s what I force myself to believe.
I’m more than used to being surrounded by murderers, gangsters, and other criminals.
At the end of the day, my father is one of them, and I grew up with the children of other drug traffickers.
The only friend I have outside of all this is Romina, and I don’t plan on telling her anything either.
It’s not something she needs to know. The problem is that I can’t change my fixation on him.
It’s as if the chemistry in my brain changed completely the first time I saw him, and years later, the effects of that irreversible change are still there, if not worse. Like a disease that is difficult to treat. I’m ridiculous.
I get out of bed feeling sore all over. I don’t bother washing my face or fixing my hair before going down to the kitchen.
A piece of lemon cake is waiting for me on the counter, and, attending to my stomach’s needs, I eat it while I make myself a strong coffee.
I turn my head when I hear a gasp behind me.
“Are you getting your Halloween costume ready?” I glance at my brother’s wrinkled T-shirt and the pillow marks on his left cheek.
“You are not much better yourself,” I say.
“I’m not trying to compete with you.” I suppress a laugh by pressing my lips together.
“Romina’s sleeping over tonight, so behave yourself, okay?” I say. I still remember the times he showed up at my sleepovers, scaring my friends with costumes that still give me nightmares to this day. Or the times he tried to impersonate me with that squeaky voice that isn’t mine.
“Can I join the girls’ night? If I shave a little and put on a wig, we’d be identical. We’re twins after all,” he scoffs.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Or what?” he asks with gives a crooked smile.
“It’s too early. Go fuck yourself somewhere else.”
He’s about to speak again when my mother appears at the door with that disgusted face she gives me every time I do or say something she disagrees with.
“Lena, go get changed. How many times have I told you not to come downstairs like that in the morning? We don’t live alone,” she nags, referring to the butler and the other workers who lived with us. Including the two bodyguards and the cleaning ladies.
“That’s exactly what I was saying. You’re embarrassing this family’s reputation,” Jason scoffs with a smile. I flip him off before walking out the door and going up to my room.
I lounge by the pool as I scroll through my Pinterest's boards. Jason pulls his head out of the pool and sits down next to me, shaking his hair like a dog.
“Did you say something?” I grimace as a few drops of water fall on my face.
“You’re getting me wet. Stop doing that!” I yell as more drops of water fall on me because of him.
He’s doing it on purpose to annoy me; he always does it when my hair is straight. Damn it. I spent a lot of time straightening it this morning. I give him a whack on the back of the head as soon as he sits next to me. The butler’s hoarse voice saves him from getting another one.
“Miss Romina is asking for you.” I check the time on my smartwatch and see that it’s almost eight. I’m late.
“Thanks. Tell her I’ll be right there.” As soon as I say the words, I put on a towel and run to the main room, where Romina is waiting for me.
The dark circles under her eyes and the puffiness are noticeable from afar. We melt into an embrace that lasts longer than expected. I’m getting used to this side of her.
“I could be much better.” I look at the medium-sized black bag she is holding in one of her hands.
“I’ll take it upstairs.”
“Are we going to sleep together?” She asks with genuine surprise when I open the door.
“Yes. If that’s okay with you, of course.”
“That’s perfect,” she murmurs with a cute smile.
I go down to the kitchen, leaving Romina alone in my bedroom.
It doesn’t take me long to find some snacks, all low in calories because of the overly healthy diet my mother makes us follow.
I barely carry everything to the room without dropping anything.
Everything is about to fall on the floor when I open the door and find Jason hugging Romina.
She has her back to him, which prevents her from seeing Jason’s victorious smile.
He gives me a thumbs-up when he sees me and his smile widens.
I go to the drawer in my desk where I keep some of her clothes and take out a gray T-shirt stained with coffee.
The hurried beating of my heart calms down a little when the scent of vanilla clouds the rest of my senses.
My lungs expand, welcoming her scent. I hate knowing that I would have to settle for her clothes and the false sensations my head sends me about her when I think she is here with me.
When I try to touch her, she vanishes between my fingers as if she had never been there.
It reminds me of the nights I had spent shedding tears of blood for her.
I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone screen while holding the T-shirt in my other hand.
She’s not in her room, so I have to search through the forty-two cameras until I find her by the pool.
My eyes go straight to every bit of skin I can find, paying special attention to her legs.
My balls press painfully against the fabric of my gray sweatpants, but far from bothering me, the pain makes me harder.
If she knew what went through my twisted mind every time I caught her watching me from afar, she probably wouldn’t want to get so close.
But eventually I will catch her again, and this time nothing will be the same.
She asks her brother something about her nails as I follow every movement of her lips.
The hair straightener has eliminated her natural waves.
She has been using it more than usual. I hate it when she does that to her hair.
I ignore the knocks on the door as I zoom in on the screen.
Faced with the insistent knocking, I end up opening the door.
“We have a guest,” Denis says from the other side, looking at the T-shirt I’m still holding and ignoring my desire to reduce him to ashes.
I slam the door in his face, not listening to whatever he has to say, and put the T-shirt back in its place. Not caring about the bulge in my pants. This is my fucking house. When I open the door again, I find him there again, this time with a grin from ear to ear.
“Were you jerking off with your beloved’s T-shirt? That’s twisted.” He feigns a disgusted grimace that then turns into a grin. “I like it.”
Downstairs, I find Francesco, one of my partners in Italy, and his daughter Bianca.
She is a couple of years younger than me.
Seeing her makes my erection subside considerably.
Her eyes slide down to the spot with disgust, and her cheeks turn pink.
Her head moves from side to side in disapproval, unlike her father, who ignores the detail.
“I thought you were in Palermo,” I murmur, starting a conversation in Italian.
I don’t like people hearing my conversations. Except for those who have proven with their lives to be trustworthy. So whenever I can speak in another foreign language, I do so.
“My house is not a damn refuge,” I add after, noticing the two suitcases next to the girl.
“I know, but I need you to do me this favor. I have to get back to Italy before they find me. You know that if she comes with me, the risk of us being intercepted would be much greater.”
“And why should I care about that?” I ask in an amused tone, not hiding the smile on my lips.
“It would benefit you. If they catch her, it won’t be good for us. For any of us,” I make a sound with my mouth, diverting my attention to the painting on the wall in the entrance. It’s a bit crooked. “Besides, I’ll give you 30% of my earnings this month.”
“55,” I reply, turning my attention back to him.
“Done,” he murmurs with a forced smile, extending his hand toward me to shake mine.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Fran,” warns Denis behind us with a shit-eating grin on his lips.
“In a month, your daughter will be on the other side of the wall with her shit on the street. If you’re not here by then, it won’t be my problem,” I say, rejecting his hand.
When he leaves, my gaze falls upon the girl who watches everything as if she were a lamb about to be slaughtered.
“Go up to the third floor and I’ll rip your fucking legs off. ”
The party starts in less than an hour, and I want to make sure I’m one of the first to arrive.
No other family members are interested in going because they’re too busy packing shit to sell later.
That will give me free rein to do whatever I want without too many repercussions, if my parents don’t find out I went, but our bodyguards aren’t nosy.
I can’t say the same for the butler. Earlier, I had to put on a show with Jason, pretending we were going to the beach again near his house so he wouldn’t suspect anything.
I go back to my vanity in my dressing room. I frown when I can’t find my hair straightener anywhere. I open and close the drawers with the same result. Then, with a groan of frustration, I go to my brother’s room. He is sitting in an armchair with his headphones on.
“Did you take my hair straightener?” I ask with a pout.
“Yes. I used it this morning to fix my hair,” he moves his hair back and imitates my voice.
“That’s not funny. I need it,” I retort, crossing my arms.
“I don’t have it. You’re the only one here who takes other people’s things without their permission. By the way, when are you going to give me back my T-shirt?” I turn around and walk to the door with a resigned look on my face. I don’t have time to look for it or get another one.
Outside, a couple of men are waiting for us in a black van, claiming that we are not allowed to reach our destination on our own.
I guess we can’t figure out how to get to the damn house.
At least that’s what I tell myself. It’s easier than thinking this is a trap and they’ll kill us later to sell our organs.
We live in a fairly large, luxurious house, but ours definitely can’t compare to the enormous, gloomy and dark facade in front of me.
The house is ostentatious. The kind you only see in magazines.
But this one has a much darker feel to it, even disturbing if you look closely at certain details, such as the overly realistic skulls embedded in the columns at the entrance.
Next to me, Jason seems just as surprised as I am, if not more so. Before we can say anything else, the man tells us to hand over our cell phones, which was to be expected, and we reluctantly comply.
“This way,” says the other man before setting off for a place we don’t know.
“I definitely have to help you win him over, and if not him, then another member of the family. Imagine him as my brother-in-law. I’d have free rein of this place,” Jason says beside me after letting out a whistle.
The garden is almost full of people. To no one’s surprise, it’s almost bigger than the house itself.
From where we stand, I can see the pool, fountains, statues, and the place where some waiters prepare and serve drinks.
Large trees and some flowers hide the rest, but there is a kind of cobblestone path.
“Excuse me, where are the bathrooms?” I ask one man.
I try to keep as much information as possible from his directions, but I find it difficult not to get lost. The inside of the house looks like a damn maze, but it is much more impressive.
Those strange vibes intensify until they send chills down my spine.
Most of the furniture is leather, black, or has pieces of gold embedded in it when it’s not covering the furniture.
The floor looks like porcelain or marble, and the paintings hanging on the wall are difficult to make out because of their predominantly dark colours.
My eyes narrow at one above a fireplace, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up in fear. What the hell is that?
As soon as I enter the back garden, I see a couple of girls who might be underage without their bikini tops. They ignore the glances and walk around carefree.
My eyes search for him in the crowd as usual.
Even though I can’t find him, I guess he’ll have to show up at some point.
After all, he is the host. Or at least that’s what I think before I see his father.
He’s wearing a crown literally covered in diamonds, sitting on a long sofa surrounded by women in swimsuits drinking a glass of wine that’s too red.
I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet, but to be honest, I don’t really want to.
“I’m going to explore a little inside,” I say to Jason with a glass of punch in my hand.
“Can I try some?” he asks, pointing to the glass.
I hand it to him and enter the huge house without waiting for a response.
I walk down a hallway to a dining room. It seems to be connected to a kitchen through a giant door.
I follow my way to the kitchen, mesmerized by the smell.
My stomach growls ferociously when I come across some trays of brownies. One piece is not enough.
I wait until there is no one else in the kitchen to take another one. Then I decide it’s time to explore another part of the house. I keep looking over my shoulder for the source of my unease, but when I find nothing, I dismiss it and focus on other rooms.