Page 21 of The Last Vendetta

I clenched my jaw, furious with his nagging.

I know!

I didn’t need him to tell me again. It went without saying that I’d be expected to avenge my brother. Regardless of how we’d never been close, I would never sit back and slack in this duty.

“I am counting on you to seek justice for him,” he growled. “And the sooner you can tell me that you’ve taken care of his killer, the better you can move forward as my next-in-line.”

I was sick of this. I knew. I didn’t require any more instructions, and I shoved away from him, desperate to have a moment to myself.

7

GIULIA

Giulia

The funeral for Luka lasted well into the evening. I wasn’t sure how Renzo was able to hold up with it all. He seemed so distracted and moody throughout the funeral and the wake. Instead of looking sad and grieving, he seemed annoyed.

More than once, I noticed him checking me out. While I felt giddy that I’d ensnared his attention, I knew better than to entertain anything happening between us. I’d begged him to not tell anyone about what we’d done together. He had to lie along with me.

Still, my mother honed in on my sitting next to him. She’d pass out in shame if she knew I was telling Renzo about what she was gossiping about at Luka’s funeral, that she was trying to get juicy drama about Cecilia being missing. We weren’t the only ones curious about why the new bride wasn’t at her husband’s funeral, but no one had any actual facts to share. Only speculation.

“I don’t even want to see you near that man,” she scolded as she told me to get ready to leave.

She’d finished harassing my father for “letting himself get into another fight”, this time, with Nickolas. I wasn’t sure what started it all, but I was grateful that my younger sisters hadn’t come to the funeral.

Everyone seemed on edge at the funeral, and Nickolas was no exception. Maybe the Romano son was still suspicious of Father being near Cecilia when Luka was dead. Whatever the reason, whatever sparked the embers of violence, they’d fought. Mother was furious about the crass and ridiculous display, and it was only after she’d gotten him to be taken to the car that she sought me out.

At least Renzo was smart enough to leave.

I let her rants go in one ear and out the other. The whole ride home, she complained. She bitched. And she got on to my father again, lambasting him for trying to act like a macho man half his age.

After I helped my sisters to bed, tiredly telling them that they didn’t need to concern themselves with why our parents were arguing—again—I headed to my room and paced.

Being near Renzo stirred something within me. That desire he’d flamed and fanned in this very room was turning into a persistent, nagging need, but I had to stop this nonsense. Nothing could ever happen between us, and I was stunned by how much that concept bothered me.

All this time, all those years, I didn’t concern myself with Renzo Bernardi. He was there, always in the background, but now, he was at the forefront of my mind.

As I lay in bed, wondering about where he was and what he was doing, I thought back to how he’d reacted since his brother was killed. Renzo was a playboy, chasing easy pussy and doing whatever he wanted. Since he was no longer the spare brother but next in line to take over the Bernardi name, he had to be struggling.

And if he was suffering from the changes in his life…

I want to be the one to comfort him and support him.

“Stop this,” I whispered to myself as I closed my eyes.

Dreaming about being Renzo’s partner was stupid. Nonsense. Our being together would never, ever make sense in our world. Too many years had passed with our Families hating each other. Yet as I drifted closer to sleep, I wished to feel him on this bed again, his lips hard against mine and his hands holding me tightly.

When I woke, it was too soon and because of my mother’s phone. It rang and rang, over and over again.

“What the hell…”

My room wasn’t near hers, and when I said hers, it was only hers. Father often slept in another bedroom, and if that wasn’t representative of how poorly they got along, I wasn’t sure what else could be.

The trill repeated without pause, and as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and damning the noise that came far too early, I realized she was likely still sleeping in and had forgotten it up here.

I growled, leaving my room to shut off the device. I didn’t have to search for it. With a frown, I looked down and stared at it. Right there in the hallway. Her cell phone lay buzzing and lighting up with an alarm clock going off, over and over and over.

“Oh, shut up,” I muttered as I stooped to pick it up.

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