My teeth grind at the memory of her and Luka stumbling out from the pantry, her pretty blue eyes glassy with lust and his expression smug as fuck.
The bastard is supposed to be here this morning, but I doubt he’ll show. Dad probably won’t notice either way. He rarely pays much attention to the son he sired while off his head one night.
I used to think he ignored Luka because his presence was an embarrassment, but eventually I realized it was because my father is a narcissistic monster who is incapable of caring about anyone or anything.
“More coffee, sir?” Marietta hovers with the carafe in her hand. I nod and smile, and she refills my cup. It’s about time my father let the poor woman retire, but he won’t. He likes the way she tip-toes around him, always subservient. Never daring to speak out for fear of the repercussions.
The exact opposite of my dear wife.
My father thrives in the darkness where the monsters live. Maybe if I were more like him, my wife would stop behaving like a brat.
Then again, I have a feeling she gets off on winding me up. Punishment for ruining her life. Her words, not mine.
It’s one of the many insults she threw at me last night when I threatened to castrate my brother. Chiara promised to do the same to me if I hurt him, while Luka grinned like he’d won the lottery.
I suppose he has. My wife likes my brother and despises me.
“Where’s your sister? She’s late.” Our father grumbles to himself as he slices into a grapefruit. The family physician has him on a low-fat diet because of high blood pressure. He hates it.
“Probably catching up on the news.”
Marietta brings over a stack of newspapers for Dad’s perusal, and I tense as he leafs through the top one. Since he’s not lost his shit yet, he can’t have checked social media.Thank fuck.
There are very few times when I’m grateful our father is a technophobe, but this is one of them.
Because he’s too vain to wear glasses, he squints at an article while I sip my second cup of coffee. Fina’s more than late now, which is worrying. She knows how much our father hates it when we’re late.
A few moments later, I hear murmured voices from the hallway, and then the door swings open. Fina strides in wearing a brittle smile, impeccably presented as usual. Anyone looking at her perfectly coiffed hair and designer sheath dress accessorized with a single strand of pearls would see a relaxed, thoroughly in control woman.
But I know my sister all too well. I can tell when she’s unhappy and stressed.
Fina dips to kiss our father’s cheek and then takes her seat at the table. Marietta brings her a cup of green tea, which Fina sips while Dad continues reading the papers.
The clock on the wall ticks loudly, while outside the guards patrol and, in the distance, a gardener clips a yew hedge. Dad’s favorite dog, Brutus, lies on the lawn, soaking up the sun, his black-and-tan coat gleaming like polished metal.
Dad loves his dogs.
He especially loves it when they savage intruders.
Brutus once tore the throat out of a guy who tried to enter the house before the guards caught him. Brutus earned a sirloin steak as a reward.
“How was the gala?” Dad’s voice is calm with no hint as to his mood. This is when he’s at his most dangerous. Fina cuts me a quick glance and purses her lips. I’m guessing the stories online and in the morning papers are not good.
“Interesting.” I can’t think of a better word.
Dad looks up. “Interesting?”
“My wife has a mind of her own.” Without context, my words mean nothing.
“Have you not got the girl under control yet?” Dad tuts. “Perhaps you need to exert more force, Angelo. Women don’t respect a man who lets them walk all over him.”
Fina looks disgusted but turns away to hide her reaction, using Marietta as a distraction.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have agreed to a marriage contract with a woman who is vehemently against marriage,” I offer with a bland smile.
Dad scoffs loudly. “She fit the bill, plus Vivian Farucci is useful to me. She needed cash, and you needed a wife. If you can’t get the woman to behave, send her to me for a few weeks.” He smiles before slicing off a portion of grapefruit. Pink juice drips down the knife as he swallows it whole. “I’ll bring her to heel for you. Training a woman is like training an unruly dog. You’ve gotta make them understand who’s the boss, Angelo. And if that doesn’t work, you shoot them. Nobody wants a dog that won’t obey its master’s orders.”
My stomach heaves. I’m no stranger to violence, but the thought of my father getting his hands on Chiara makes me want to murder him. My fingers rest lightly on the damask tablecloth. It wouldn’t take much to kill the bastard.
