Page 34 of Maddest Temptation

“Move your ass, Vitelli, I’m already late, and I plan to solve this now.”

“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out again. “Can’t you at least wait— fine, I’ll send it to your email,” he grunted.

“And, Vitelli, keep this between us. I don’t want people to know about it.” I could practically hear all the unasked questions in his head.

“What is this about, Cassio? What happened Friday, you almost had a coronary when you saw Gianluca touching Francesca.”

“Goodbye, Vitelli,” I said simply, eliciting a sigh of frustration from him.

“What’s going on between you and Francesca Manci?” How was my brother so perceptive?

“Not that I owe you any explanations, but there is nothing between us, she’s a potential loose end, and I don’t like loose ends. I want to make sure she won’t be a problem in the future.”

“She a Manci, her middle name is trouble.”

And you can’t be more right about that. Francesca had trouble written all over her in big bold neon letters.

10

FRANCESCA

Weekends were supposed to be the universal days when a person could finally rest or have fun. We were not supposed to be haunted by our problems, there was supposed to be some kind of law preventing that kind of stuff.

Problems were only meant to appear and be solved during business hours, from Monday to Friday, preferably from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. so I could at least have my me time later. But as with everything in my life, the timing when things happened always seemed to be off.

It was seven in the morning, and my head had been pounding from all the alcohol, my body still buzzing from all the physical activity it had endured when my phone rang. I didn’t pick it up, I never answered the numbers I hadn’t registered in my phone. I wasn’t going to risk picking it up and Donato being the person on the other side of the line, so I let it ring.

It eventually stopped but then it started again, by then, my sleep was already interrupted, and I was looking to let out some pent-up rage. I pitied the person who called me by mistake, I even pitied Donato because I was going to unleash hell on him. But when I picked up, I wasn’t expecting to hear that voice.

“Hello? Francesca?” It was boyish yet manly. It was rough, yet still gentle, it was pubescent. My voice got stuck in my throat, and I was speechless. Literally unable to speak.

Four years. That was the last time I heard my little brother’s voice. Not little anymore I realized, Marco wasn’t the little boy I left all those years ago.

“Francesca, are you there?”

“Hmm.” That was the only word that was able to leave my mouth.

“She told me to call you. I—I didn’t know what to do so I called.” He sounded guilty and unsure, and my heart ached to hear my brother like that.

“Okay?” I wasn’t following what was happening, it still took me by surprise that my little brother was calling me at seven in the morning on a Saturday.

“Mother fainted.”

I shot from my bed sitting up, the quick movement making me dizzy, and I had to close my eyes for a couple of seconds to focus on his words. My mother hadn’t told Marco, he didn’t know about the cancer.

“Where is she now? Where is Don—father?” The word was bitter against my mouth.

“At his mistress’ he won’t be back until noon.”

“Shit.” Son of a bitch. I despised the man, I hoped he contracted some STDs.

“I don’t, I shouldn’t have?—”

“Marco. It’s okay. Take her to the hospital, and I’ll meet you guys there.”

Why was he so awkward about this? I was his sister, he was my little brother, regardless of what happened. I left my bed and headed to my wardrobe, choosing the first piece of clothing I found.

“Francesca. Father won’t be… I shouldn’t have called.”

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