His face tightens. “Get out. Get the fuck out.”
I nod, stepping around the table. Bellino steps in front of me. “Watch your back, fiancée.”
“Don’t hand out threats against Syndicate members, Bellino, you know the consequences.”
“You’re not a member yet. Fiancée.” He spits at me again, using the term as if it’s signed and sealed, and I’m already his.
“I am not, have not and never will be your fiancée. As far as the Syndicate goes, I’m as good as in. I’m a legacy. You know I’m already more powerful than myfather ever was. You know I’m already more successful in such a short time. So watch yourself, Bellino.”
He takes a step forward, towering over me, but Massimo places his hand on his chest.
“She’s not worth it.” The way he relaxes and gives in makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can feel the shift in the air, the way his face straightens out as if he’s turned a tap to release all the emotion that was there a second ago, and he steps back. I step through the door and into the hallway. I turn back to look at the three of them.
But Massimo is glaring at Vittorio, who is still on the other side of the desk.
“You’re going to marry her?” Massimo’s voice lower, stoic, not an ounce of anger left, nothing.
“Yes.”
In a second, that dissipates, pure fury crosses his face. “Then you get the fuck out, too. And when you marry her, take her fucking name because you’re no longer a fucking Ricci.” Vittorio steps around the desk and pushes through the middle of them. He walks towards me and places his hand on my back, pushing me forward.
A few steps down the hall, he whispers, “He’s up to something. Get out fast. I’ll grab my things. I’ll meet you at yours?” It’s a question. I hear it in the tone of his voice, the unsaid words. I chose you over my family. Will you choose me? I nod and stride away, trying to process what just happened and how badly this is really going to go. I hear muffled shouts and crashes as I leave the building.
I jog down the steps and stride down the driveway then look around behind me, making sure I’m not followed as I exit the driveway. I take off running and don’t stop untilI get to my bike. I snatch my helmet, tugging it on before wheel spinning away from the cover of the trees.
Vittorio
Chapter Nine
“He’s up to something. Get out fast. I’ll grab my things. I’ll meet you at yours?” I stare into her eyes, wishing we had more time to figure this all out, hoping she trusts me, hoping she sees me, the real me.
As she rushes down the steps, I can hear father yelling. Not wanting to stay a moment longer, I turn and run up to my room, taking the stairs two steps at a time. I sprint down the landing. My presence in this house normally so silent. I spent so many years trying to be unseen, to be invisible in a family full of loud assuming men, to stay off my father’s radar, but now my bare feet pound loudly against the cold hard floor, echoing from the ceiling as I run. I can’t stay here a second longer than necessary. I rip off my bottoms as I skid to a halt, tossing them on the bed.
Leaving me naked, I snatch up my duffle bag and start throwing clothes in it. I toss a pair of jeans and a t-shirt onto the bed and stuff as much of the contents of my wardrobe into the bag as physically possible.
My heart pounds as I try to gather my things before father finishes his tirade downstairs. I step into thebathroom, grabbing my wash bag and tossing that onto the top of the bag. The door slams open, and I whip my head to see Bellino.
My brother stands in the doorway. His eyes bore into mine, and I slowly turn to fully face him. I’m not scared of my brother. I know what he’s capable of. I know he has no loyalty to me. If Father has told him to kill me, that’s what he’ll be here to do.
“You here to kill me?” I rasp out as I search his eyes for something, some telltale sign of his intentions, but as ever, his mask is firmly in place. He leans on the door frame and crosses his arms. His gaze never leaves mine.
“Not yet.” His voice devoid of emotion, we’ve never been close. He was always the favourite. I’m just the second, the spare. Never destined to be anything, always overlooked. I was beaten and bruised as a kid for not being more like my brother. Forced to be left alone so Father could spend quality time with him, brought up by the staff. Never allowed to be a child. Punished for my brother’s failures and detested because I wasn’t more like him.
My father used to come back from jobs and come to my room to torment me, punish me, and beat me. All under the guise of trying to make me into the perfect soldier, just like Bellino. If he was so perfect, why the fuck was I punished for so many failures?
Not yet—what kind of answer is that? I turn my back on him, not the smartest move, but I carry on packing the things I need before walking over to the dresser. I slide on a pair of boxers. As I pull them up, I stare at him.
“You think you’ll take what’s mine?” His gaze burns, but his body is relaxed. “You think stealing my fiancée willgive you the keys to the kingdom?” He says it like he’s telling me it’s raining outside.
“I don’t want any of this Bellino, just her.” I step forward. “You don’t want her.” I look him up and down before smirking. “She’s not your type, big brother.”
I let my eyes roam from his face to his feet and back, knowing I’m taller than him and it pisses him off. He just glares. I tug on my clothes, snatch my bag off the bed and head towards the door. He steps in front of me, blocking the door.
“Be careful, little brother,” he snarls. “She will be your downfall. It will be so sweet to inflict that on you.”
I push past him as I hear the chuckle. It rumbles before it turns into that taunting laugh that echoes around the high ceiling and follows me down the stairs and out of the door.
I get to my car, rip the door open, and toss the bag into the back. I drop down into the seat, start the engine, and don’t look back as I accelerate down the driveway and out of the gates.
