I swear, all my brothers have sour moods, Emiliano included. The only reason he’s tolerable is because he’s with Valentina.
Ma returns with the baby on her hip. Bianca has the same sapphire blue eyes as her dad, and from the looks of it, she got both her dad’s and mom’s hair color.
“I thought you went to put her down for a nap.”
Ma shakes her head and sits Bianca on her blanket. “No. Our little Bee just had a little accident. Where did Matteo go?”
“Oh, he left. He said he has something to deal with.”
“Why was he here, anyway?”
I shrug. “He called me earlier today and said that he’d be coming over to Eli’s place to discuss something with me.”
Ma frowns as she makes her way to the kitchen. “What did he want to talk to you about?”
“Something about Lucio acting off,” I tell her as I bend down to Bianca’s level, grabbing one of her toys and shaking it in front of her.
“What do you mean byoff?”
“I don’t know, but I’m guessing he’s not pulling the same old shit he always does, and that’s messing with Matteo’s system.”
Somewhere in the distance, a spoon scrapes against porcelain. Soft. Too soft. My fingers twitch at my sides.
I tell myself it’s nothing, but the nagging feeling won’t leave. It curls around my ribs, sinking into my bones. And when I close my eyes, I swear I can still feel someone watching me.
2
NICOLO
The buzzer on my desk echoes in the quiet office, and my assistant’s voice comes on.
“Sir, your brother is here. Would you like me to let him through?”
Romiro doesn’t let it slide, and I manage to hear what he says before the buzzer turns off.
“Don’t be an asshole, David. Of cou?—”
I lean back, letting out a deep sigh through my nose. Romiro won’t go away without his microdose of attention. The little shit is a migraine that won’t leave.
Pressing my thumb to the buzzer, I say, “Let him through.”
Short. And to the point.
My younger brother walks in, acting like a fucking princess in love. It’s pathetic. Love has done nothing but bring trouble to his doorstep. Only fools fall in love.
“Hello, brother.”
Some days, I question whether we are truly brothers or if somehow, there was a mix-up. I run my hand through my hair, wishing he’d leave without having to engage him in aconversation. Knowing Romiro, he’ll just sit there and talk my ear off.
“What do you want, Romiro?” My gaze drifts back to my computer screen, my fingers tapping on the keyboard loudly.
This deal with the Japanese isn’t going to close itself. My business, my empire, my legacy is the most important aspect of my entire existence. My parents never amounted to anything, and I refuse to end up like them: depressed, on drugs, or dead.
I drag my eyes up to Romiro, lifting a brow as I wait for him to answer my question, but he walks over to the couch and throws himself on it, patting the plush cushion next to him.
“When’d ya get this?”
Lacing my hands together, I place them on my glass desk. “The correct question to ask would be who got it for me. You know I don’t care for comfort.”
