Page 36 of A Beautiful Crime

Because my dear fratello sounds more than merely amused. With that statement he’s challenging Constantine.

I never knew my dear fratello had wanted a death wish upon himself.

The challenge falls deaf on Constantine’s ears as he gives him no reaction. With that I know my brother is silently fuming. He’s more than likely throwing daggers with his blue eyes. The same way he throws them daggers at me when I do the very same Constantine just has.

If there is one thing that gets under Luca’s impenetrable skin more than disrespecting him, it’s giving him nothing at all.

I open the door further, a slither of space just enough to push my body through.

I tell myself it’s because I want to see the flush of anger on Luca’s flesh. I tell myself, as I move discreetly to the banister, that it’s because I want to hear the conversation without barriers.

But that’s not true, is it?

It’s not true at all.

I kill the thoughts before they can live and breath.

Because once they do, once they’re recognized, out in fruition, that truth will be the true death of me.

It will be worse than my rebirth.

Worse than death itself.

But even as I kill the thoughts I find myself leaning against the elegant gold trimmed banister.

Luca’s back, a back unscarred like my own, is facing me. I can still see my own stains of blood on his crisp white shirt.

I bite back the anger that I want to lash at him. And with it I press back the fresh wave of hot tears.

But then my eyes stray from my tormentor to the man who is feared the most.

He looks dashing.

But then again, the Devil always looks dashing. It’s part of the charm, of the appeal. His attire is just as much a weapon as is a gun.

His dark hair is styled but in a way that you can tell he’s run his long furrowed fingers through it. Lips that I had always thought were sinful, even in photographs, are in a firm grim line. With coal black eyes he stares at my brother as if he wants to rip him apart.

And for once, Constantine and I share something that even I can’t deny.

He toys with the emerald cufflinks on his black dress shirt that is left with three buttons undone at the top to show a slither of his dark chest hair. The dress shirt hugs his frame in a way no shirt should. It caresses his body, showcasing all of his physical attributes. And even a blind woman couldn’t deny his physical appearance is very much so more than attractive.

It’s as if the man is cut from stone himself and the gods have gifted him everything that is good.

But beauty is more than eye deep.

Constantine’s coal black eyes regard Luca with contempt as he says in a cool tone, “I’m only ensuring you and Savio hold up to your end of the deal.”

Luca’s head tilts to the side. “So you see her as an asset.”

Constantine raises a brow at him. “It’s far more than what you see her as.”

Luca scoffs. “She knows her place, Constantine. She knows who she is.”

Constantine takes a menacing step towards Luca, and although he does not take one back his body stiffens like a board.

“Who she is to you and your papa is not who she is at all,” He sneers down at him and my breath catches in my throat. My hands squeeze the railing of the banister as I press closer. It’s the darkness Constantine exudes that’s drawing me in. “You haveno idea the woman Carina is.” And there it is, my name spoken so beautifully and haunting off his tongue and those sinful lips. God, a part of me, a part I’ll never let see the light of day yearns to hear it again.

“And you do?” Luca challenges.

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