Good. I’m turning my phone off again, so don’t text. See you soon!
Alessio’s nice…but when he gets like this, it makes me second-guess our relationship.
We met on a campus tour last spring. Listening to the tour guide and talking to Amara about the most recent drama distracted me until bumping into him and nearly causing him to spill his coffee.
He caught it in time, and his charming smile stunned me. The feeling intensified when he lifted dark sunglasses from sparkling green eyes.
“Checking out the campus?” he had asked, scanning over the rest of the group.
“Sì,”I replied.
The guys I went to school with didn’t hold my attention for long, but Alessio, as he introduced himself then, was forward. He plucked my cell from my hand and, just as initial panic rose that a stranger was holding such an important part of my life, he was handing it back, his contact information inside.
We texted the rest of the day, and the next, into the following week, and then it was happily-ever-whatever-this-is from there.
With Alessio calmed, I shut the phone off and return it to the pocket of my jeans before exploring Lev’s ensuite to clean up. I splash water on my face and arms, doing my best to not be nosy and poke around. I’ve wrecked this man’s week enough; he doesn’t need me touching his personal effects.
The water washes away the knot that formed answering Alessio. He’s charming and a good kisser, but he’s intense too—and not in a good way. He clearly cares about my well-being, but sometimes, it’s too much. When we’re together, he’s manageable, but problems arise when we’re apart.
If Alessio learned I slept in another man’s bed, regardless of the situation, he’d freak out. Which, I guess I get…but he wouldn’t allow me to explain before immediately reacting.
It’s pleasant to be cared about by someone who doesn’thaveto, and I think that’s what appeals the most. Our relationship won’t be a forever thing, but for now, he’s fun. He’s someone to be free with, who isn’t throwing curfews or rules or bodyguards at me.
He’s my dirty little secret. My walk on the wild side.
Once I feel semi-human, I head out of the bedroom, walking down the ornate stone hallway until finding the equally large staircase I recall rushing up yesterday.
The mansion is beautiful in ways Zeno’s villa fails. The Mancini property is wide-open, summer home vibes, all tan walls, curved windows, archways everywhere, and even equipped with a pool—my favourite. Vanessa’s mansion is moreshut-in, all dark wood and even darker walls, few windows. It’s like an old-style castle but warmer. Cozier.
My hand grips the top of the railing as I feel eyes stare at me. Curiously? Judgementally? Glancing towards the portrait of Ursin Volkov may answer those questions, but I have no desire to look into the face of my biological father—or whatever the man who raped Madre and produced me can be called.
Being here isn’t anything I ever envisioned occurring. It’s weird, seeing the place my bloodline came from. It leaves a twisting in my gut, because I’m not entirely certain how to feel. Perhaps, if I had warning, I could have prepared, but there was no mentally preparing for this yesterday. Pushing the thoughts away, I descend the stairs.
At the bottom, the hum of conversation directs me down a hallway as dark as the rest of this place and into a kitchen. The crowd of people around the island look up at my entrance.
Anastasia is closest to the door and offers a warm smile before turning back to her smoothie. She’s nice, the little we’ve spoken last night when she popped by to check on her brother.
Beside her is Vanessa, my…half-sister. Now that yesterday’s dangers have passed, I’m better able to consider what it means after months of begging Zeno to let me see her again. I still don’t know how to act around her. Indifferent, since we’re adult siblings who never got to know one another, or excited to have a sister?
Time will tell, I suppose, since now probably isn’t the most ideal time to dissect it all.
She smiles faintly—encouragingly. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I manage as Zeno drags his gaze from her to me, almost unwillingly, like I’ve interrupted the newly found bliss he and Vanessa finally have. It’s okay, though. Given his recent mood, them getting back together will make him more manageable. Get the stick out of his ass and all that. If she’s inhis life, it gives me a chance to determine the kind of relationship we could have.
He breaks away to yank me into a tight hug, as if it wasn’t only hours ago he last saw me. “Hey, sleep well?”
“Yeah.”Please don’t ask me where.
Over his shoulder, I seek out the only person I’ve yet to greet, finding him furthest away, leaning against a counter that runs across the opposite side of the room. A fancy coffee machine rests beside him, presumably recently used to fill the mug he’s bringing up to his mouth.
His finger is motioning against the mug, which, after a few seconds’ scrutiny, I realize is a pattern. One tap, then two rapid ones, one more before a pause, and the cycle begins again.
Around the mug, his mouth quirks in greeting that causes the dimple on his cheek to pop. His eyes are partially shielded by stray hair that hangs in front, making it difficult to make out where the pupils begin and end. He’s fully dressed, the tattoos all over his body covered except the ones on his arms.
Zeno propels me to the counter, breaking my attention. “Lev mentioned showing you to the spare room next to his. Bed comfortable?”
Lev lied for me? For Zeno’s sanity, it’s the better option. Avoiding looking at the man in question, I nod.
