He laughs. "You're out of your mind."
"Please."
"You beat the shit out of my brother at that party. Broke his nose."
"He insulted Rava."
"And you put fists in his face."
"He's lucky that's all I put."
He leans forward. "Do you hear yourself?"
"I'm not here to fight. I'm here to ask."
"Then ask someone else." He starts to stand. I stop him with just a word. "Please."
He freezes. Looks at me again. "Do you love him?"
I nod once. "Of course I do." He studies me for a moment. Then scoffs. "I don't give a fuck."
And just like that, he walks out. Leaves me sitting there. Pride in pieces. I sit for another minute. Then another. Then I get up. I catch up to him outside the bar, but I don't grab him this time.
I just walk. Quiet and controlled, which is honestly saying a lot for me. "Nicola," I say. "Just hear me out."
He doesn't slow down. Doesn't look at me.
"You had your shot."
"I'm asking again."
"Then you clearly didn't listen the first time."
"I did," I mutter. "Loud and clear."
He stops. Turns. "You think just because you came in here with a pretty shirt and your tragic little love story, I'm supposed to forget that you broke my brother's face and humiliated him?!"
"I'm not asking you to forget."
"You snapped his nose like a twig."
"He was talking about Rava like his a fucking sex toy."
"Oh, poor Rava," he says mockingly. "Can't stand to hear anyone say a bad word about him so you turn into a rabid dog?"
"He said—" I clench my jaw. "He said we should get him drunk and fucking share him. Does that sound normal to you??"
Nicola just stares. "He's my brother. You don't get to touch my family."
"Fine, let him hit me back." Nicola's eyes narrow. "What?"
"Let him hit me. Or you hit me. Doesn't matter. Just get it out. If that's what it takes for you to listen."
"Jesus Christ, Fontana. You think this is some kind of noble act?"
"I don't care what it is. I just want him to stay."
He laughs. "You are out of your fucking mind."
