My mind wanders. My eyes gaze over Enzo’s shoulder. Disinterested in having this conversation right now. That’s when my eyes catch on him. There’s a guy there who looks similar to the girl. Same hair and similar features, but more striking, and an air of intelligence about him, his gaze assessing everything. I eye him with casual interest, with an element of fascinationsearing through. Enzo sees me staring and turns to follow my gaze.
“And you are?” I ask.
“Bellino, this is my son, Leonardo.” He turns to look at us as Enzo says his name. His eyes caress every inch of me. His gaze scans from my shoes all the way up my body before his eyes settle on mine. They’re a brighter blue than hers. He stares at me for a second before he leans forward and takes my hand, shaking it. His grip is firm. But I can feel the tension in his body. I can tell he doesn’t want to be here either.
A fucking son too. Once he’s shaken my hand, he nods and gives me a tight-lipped smile, the tension in his jaw so prominent right now. He takes a step back and goes back to surveying the room. His eyes roam, taking in everything, while the girl just stares at me, batting her eyelashes.
“I think you and my daughter could be a good union, and after all the…” He waves his hand around at the wedding. “Unpleasantness—this all leaves a bad taste in our mouths. I believe we could be strong contenders to form an alliance.”
The daughter stands there, sickly sweet, batting her eyelashes at me like that’s what I’m looking for, but my eyes wander to him again. Tall, slim, handsome; he’s young but his blond hair and blue eyes are divine. He’s wearing a charcoal grey suit with a thin pinstripe running through it, his dress shoes are shined to perfection, but I can see they’re not new—there are small scuffs that he’s tried to buff out.
His suit, while being new, is on the cheap side. His shirt, although starched, clearly isn’t new; the top three buttons of his shirt are undone. He’s foregone the tie, and I can see a hint of toned, tanned chest. Blond hair is styled and neat, and his face is freshly shaved. Blue eyes roam around, intently looking at nothing. He’s glanced past us a few times, but his gaze doesn’t linger. His jaw is tight like he’s not used to being in thesesituations, and I can clearly see that his father isn’t keeping them in the same lifestyle as him and his other children.
Clearly, they have been brought out for me and me alone, and I feel that if this were my wedding, these offspring wouldn’t have been dusted off or seen the light of day. I lick my lips as I stare through Enzo, watching his son’s every move. There’s something about him that’s drawing me to him. And I nod to myself.
“That’s wonderful. I’ll make an appointment to see your father, and we’ll go over everything.”
She giggles and looks down, and I find it irritating, so I scowl and look away. Enzo takes it for the dismissal that it is and scurries back across the room with his two illegitimate offspring.
They’re clearly not his wife’s, but isn’t that what all the Syndicate members seem to do? I wouldn’t be surprised if Father had a few bastards sprinkled around. But who am I to judge? I’ll entertain an arrangement for now. Where’s the harm in seeing what I can get out of it? I smirk at myself before going back to staring in contempt around the room.
I glance back at them and she flushes. Her father rests his hand on her shoulder, and they both turn to leave. My eyes flick back to him, but he’s already walking away. His hands clasped nonchalantly behind his back as he strolls through the crowd, his knuckles white, as if it’s all a façade, and I want to know more.
I want to see him again.
Vittorio
Chapter Seven
Arianna’s in the shower; she’s barely spoken since she turned up with Bellino and Matteo. It’s raised emotions from the beginning. We fought, we argued, and our truth came crashing down around us. Father had manipulated us, but that doesn’t replace the years of abuse and torment knowing all of this. It’s gonna take time, but will we ever trust each other?
Bellino and Arianna were whispering like they had a secret, their hushed words spoken aggressively as they gritted their teeth and scowled at each other. It frustrated me, wondering if she wished she’d married him. Matteo is down in the basement, but she hasn’t been down there. Luca feeds him and takes him water, but she hasn’t left the office except to eat, and then she barely eats. She locks herself in there for hours at a time.
I can’t wait around trying to get what’s going on from her, so I make my way downstairs, intending to talk to Marianne, but my feet keep going, bypassing the kitchen altogether, and I head to the basement. I don’t know why. I need to find out how we got here, how he wanted her, but then tried to sell her to my brother.
The lock clicks and the door groans as I push inside. His head slowly moves to the side, but when he sees me, he sits up straighter. There’s almost a grin on his face, his eyes twinkle, and he follows every step I make as I walk around him, grabbing a chair, dragging it towards him, turning it so the back faces him, and slowly taking a seat. I cross my arms, resting them on the back of the chair. I rest my chin on my arms and just watch him. I assess him, and yet he says nothing. There’s something though, his face looks smug almost, and yet he’s in no position to feel that way.
“Why?” I whisper out.
“Now isn’t that a loaded question?” His voice is scratchy; it sounds dry from being unused. I know Luca refuses to talk to him, so he’s been here alone for days now.
“Just answer the question,” I bark at him as I sit up straighter now.
“Why, what?” He shrugs. “Exactly what is it you want the answer to, Mr Bianchi?” He spits my title at me, and I smirk.
“Why did you double-cross her?” It’s what confuses me.
“She didn’t want me; she was enamoured with you.” He growls. “I was not going to sit here and watch you fuck her, everywhere.”
“Is that what this is? You couldn’t fuck her, so you betrayed her?” I stare at him, trying to find the logic in the betrayal.
“Who says I didn’t fuck her?” His grin is cruel, spiteful as he watches my reaction. I know they never fucked. I know Arianna told me they never even kissed. It was all long looks,mild touches, and almosts. “Is that what she told you?” He chuckles. “Ahh, the lies.” His vicious smirk tries to get under my skin.
“So you’re saying you did fuck?”
“Fuck yeah, we did.” He grins, his shoulders back, his posture proud. Leering at me, he laughs. “I was the last man she fucked. I bet she hasn’t fucked you since she’s been back. You want to know why that is? I’ll tell you because we fucked. Since you’ve been married, she couldn’t resist me any longer. She was gagging for it. Clawing at me like she’d never had a real man, like she’d never been fucked properly before. She wanted it so badly.
“How the fuck does it feel to know you weren’t the last man she fucked, huh?” He laughs. “That my cum was the last cum she had inside her because I can guarantee, since I fucked her, she hasn’t wanted anything to fucking do with you.”
