Page 118 of Vicious Addictions

“To what? Exercise the mind?”

“Something like that.” His shy smile widens.

I shake my head, chuckling, but before I can tease him further, his expression shifts to an earnest, serious one.

“If you won’t talk to me about what’s bothering you, then can I give you some advice?”

“Sure. Why the hell not?” I throw my hands in the air.

“If you honestly want to deal with all that rage and anger bubbling inside you, then instead of punching a bag, confront what triggered it in the first place. Do that before whatever is eating you up inside consumes you.”

“Fuck. That’s actually quite perceptive. Who taught you something like that?”

Marcello’s timid smile fades, his voice going quiet, melancholy setting in.

“Our father.”

I don’t respond to his remark, letting the silence stretch between us instead.

My relationship with my father has been complicated, to say the least. These past few years, separating the personal from the professional has been tricky, and it took me a while to figure out when I’m speaking to my father and when I was facing the head of the Outfit.

However, Marcello has it worse.

Our father is stricter with him, more demanding, less loving, and whatever happened between them in the past has left Marcello seeing only the Boss side of Vincent, and hardly ever the father. “Has Dad talked to you recently?” I probe, wondering if my father already broke the news to him about his imminent induction to the Outfit.

“About?” He arches a quizzical brow.

“Nothing,” I quickly play off since it’s obvious he doesn’t know yet. A part of me wants to warn Marcello, but I can’t. Our father would know that I tipped him off, leaving Marcello to undoubtedly bear the brunt of his anger. “So, your advice is to tackle the problem head-on?” I ask, steering the conversation away from our father.

Though, to be fair, talking about Mina is just as troubling.

“Do you know a better way to conquer your demons?” Marcello counters poignantly.

“No. No, I don’t.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a migraine coming on

“Didn’t think so.”

I replay the last few hours in my mind and how none of it went down like I would have hoped.

A part of me expected Mina to pick a fight the moment she saw me on the tarmac, giving me the perfect excuse to pull her back into my orbit. But instead, Mina kept her walls stacked up so high that no amount of climbing could ever breach them.

She looked as beautiful as ever. Dressed in a stunning white Alexander McQueen suit with her long, raven hair cascading over her shoulders, she was an absolute vision as she walked down the airstair. And yet, her beauty was the only trace left of the girl I once knew.

She looked a bit harder.

Meaner.

Sadder.

But it’s like Marcello said. I’ll never get Mina out of my mind if I don’t at least have one fucking conversation with her.

We deserve some fucking closure, don’t we?

Fuck it.

I pull off my gloves and ruffle Marcello’s blond hair, earning an annoyed grunt from him.

“See you back at the house?” I ask since Marcello has been staying over at my place for the last couple of weeks.

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