Page 80 of Maddest Temptation

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I was not ready for this. My heart was beating so fast, I thought I was going to have an attack. I didn’t have the courage to ask, but I knew something had gone wrong.

“Marco is Mamma…”

“Shit, I can’t talk, just meet me at the cafeteria.”

He hung up before I had the chance to say something, as if he knew what I was going to say.

I bolted inside the hospital, my head spinning, my stomach churning and my blood pressure lower than the pits of hell. My first instinct was to head toward my mother’s room on the 9th floor, but if something was happening, I didn’t want to be there to see it. I didn’t care if it made me a total coward.

When I reached the wide area, I looked in all directions, searching for my brother, it took me a while to remember I wasn’t looking for a kid anymore. Even so, I couldn’t spot his blond hair anywhere. My hands were shaking. I walked myself over to the counter and asked for a bottle of water. I waited as the barista took my order, my nails incessantly tapping on the counter.

“Francesca.” I began to turn around at the sound of my name. “Don’t. Don’t turn around.”

“Marco?” I wanted desperately to turn around but didn’t.

“Please, just pretend I’m not here.” I was about to scold him till kingdom come when the barista arrived with my order.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?” she asked my brother who proceeded to ask for a bottle of water as well.

He remained there standing beside me, but neither of us looked at each other. It was as though we were just two strangers in the line. Out of curiosity, I glanced over at him, his face was hidden by his Chicago Bulls cap, and he wore a black zipper jacket and some jeans. He was so out of character that I understood now why I hadn’t seen him before. I was looking for a boy in boyish clothes or someone in a tux like most Made Men wore.

“Mamma?” I asked as the barista handed him his bottle of water.

“Va bene,” was all he said, but those two words telling me she was okay, was all that I needed to calm down—at least as much as was possible. “Do you know where the gardens are?”

I nodded. “Yes,” I added because he wasn’t looking.

“Meet me there.”

“Mar—”

But he was already walking away from me. I squeezed the water bottle, trying to channel all my inner rage toward the poor thing. The desperation and fear I had been feeling just a few seconds ago were completely replaced by rage. I wanted to kill my little brother for making me so freaking scared.

“Thank you,” I told the barista and moved toward the side so that others could order as well.

I searched the room and instantly my eyes settled on a man dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. He was dressed casually but there was nothing casual about him. It took me only a couple seconds to realize he was one of Donato’s men, keeping tabs on my brother.

The man wasn’t looking my way, he was standing by the door, his head turned towards where Marco went. I understood his secrecy now, Marco didn’t want them to know he was here with me. He was trying to protect me.

With shaking hands, I opened the bottle and took one hard sip. Slowly my anger dissipated, and I didn’t feel the need to strangle him. I hurried toward the garden but instead of taking the same route as him, I went the other way. If he took all that trouble to remain unseen, then I wasn’t going to be the one to ruin his plan.

The hospital’s garden wasn’t exactly a garden, it was an outside area filled with a couple of trees and flower bushes. There were a few paths and some benches scattered around them. I passed some patients as I made my way through the main path. Marco had sat on a bench on the furthest side, his head hung low, his elbows resting on his knees, but I knew for a fact he was one hundred percent ready to move if someone drew near.

The bench he had chosen was equally hidden but also placed in a good spot if he wanted to keep an eye on the passersby. That was the Outfit’s doing, both with him and with me. I could easily see these things now.

I sat on the bench but kept my distance so that if others saw us, they wouldn’t know we were together. We remained in silence for a moment, he no longer had his head hung low and he now leaned against the wood, he looked forward as though he were in some deep thought.

“Ma che cazzo, Marco.” I finally lost my patience. I couldn’t hold it anymore.

Marco on the other hand seemed to have all the patience in the world. He sighed deeply as he shifted on the bench, one leg folded over the other, he turned to face me completely—Marco removed his cap.

“Marco!” My hand shot toward him, to touch my little brother.

“Don’t, Francesca.” He stopped me.

I couldn’t take my eyes away from him, or better yet, from the enormous purplish-black bruise on his face. His left eye was slightly swollen and his lips as well. There was a small tear right in the middle. My heart ached at that sight. Fire coursed through my veins, anger like I had never felt before consumed me. I shot from the bench.

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