Page 68 of Sweet Prison

He’s still here, I know that. I can hear his labored breaths, clear across the length of the room. Is he debating with himself?Why isn’t he saying anything? What if the morning comes, and he leaves anyway?

A low whisper fills the silence of the room. “Is an omelet okay?” My heart skips a beat.

“Sure,” I whisper back.

Chapter 18

My breakfast is ready and waiting for me, just as he promised. Just as it has been every day this week.

But Massimo isn’t.

I glance around the kitchen and then focus on the setting. The dish is an omelet. Tomatoes. Mushrooms. Shredded cheese. Prosciutto layered over eggs. The plate has been left on the breakfast table, at the seat closest to the window where the bright morning sunrays spill inside. On the right, there’s a nicely folded cloth napkin, with cutlery on top. A glass of orange juice is positioned on the left. And completing the setting, in the middle of the table, a small vase with a single sprig of jasmine.

It’s all rather sweet, if one disregards the man with a semiautomatic rifle standing in the center of the room.

“Peppe? Is something wrong?”

“Nope. Just following Massimo’s orders.”

“And those are?”

He throws a quick look at the table. “Watching the eggs.”

“Uh-huh. Are they going to attack us?”

The corner of Peppe’s lips quivers as if he’s going to smile, yet he remains serious.

“Iris went grocery shopping,” he says. “I’m not supposed to let anyone get close to your breakfast. If anyone does, I’m to off them, immediately.”

I shake my head and cross the kitchen to take my seat, feeling Peppe’s eyes on me the entire time. He must be annoyed by Massimo’s behavior, too.

“He thinks someone might try poisoning my food,” I explain as I eat the first forkful.

“I’m sure that’s what he tells himself.”

“What do you mean?”

Peppe leans on the fridge, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’ve known Massimo since he was fifteen. I’ve always admired the way his mind works. Unrelenting focus and determination, bordering on obsessive. When he believes something needs to be done, he’ll do it, no matter the consequences. And no matter the personal sacrifice. Achieving the ultimate goal is the only thing that matters. And if at some point, an alternate course of action is required, he finds a way to convince himself that it’s exactly what he needs to do.” He gives the plate in front of me a pointed stare. “Or not do.”

“I’m… not sure I understand what you mean.”

“He knows it’s very unlikely that someone would want to poison you, especially here, but he’s convinced himself that is a credible threat. Because it’s the perfect excuse.”

“Excuse for what?”

“To make you breakfast.” He meets my gaze. “I’ve never seen him care about anyone like he cares about you. To be honest, I didn’t think he was capable of it. Which is why he’ll do whatever is necessary to make sure you won’t end up hurt. The Family tends not to favor…relationshipsbetween stepsiblings.”

I tense. “You know?”

“I have eyes, Miss Veronese. When the two of you are in the same room, the air itself becomes so charged it would barely need a spark to explode. But maybe, that wouldn’t be such a badthing, you know? To let it detonate. If you are ready to bear the scorn of our world, that is. If you think you can handle it.”

“Believe me, I’ve had plenty of practice in my life.”

“Then brace yourself.” Peppe nods as he leaves the kitchen. “He’ll try to push you away. Might even hurt you believing it will save you from greater heartache. Don’t let him.”

I eat the rest of my meal in silence, contemplating Peppe’s words while staring at the yard beyond the window. With the grass cut and the flowerbeds cleared of weeds, it’s finally looking like a garden instead of a wild jungle.

---