Page 87 of Petrichor

God, their banter is endless. Sometimes they even restart where they left off the day before. I never had this kind of relationship with my brother. River was sweet to me, our teasing was light, and we never went down to punches—we had our father for that.

I feel Marco’s whole body tensing next to mine, ready to pounce on Luca. So, I slide onto his lap, parking my ass on his half chub and wrapping my arms around his neck. Then I turn my glaring gaze to Luca.

“Stop antagonizing him and go vent your frustration on that cute guy’s ass.” I look at the twink he was flirting with at the bar a few minutes ago.

“Not yet.” Don Sebastiano…Seb suddenly appears near Luca. “Let’s talk first.” He looks for a couple of seconds at the empty chair I was occupying a moment ago.

“Fly was sitting there,” Marco tells him. He looks at me, then he nods and finally lower his ass. The more time I spend with Seb, the more facets I’m discovering. He’s a peculiar one on top of being acallous, merciless Mafia boss. He looks even more stand-offish than the first time I met him.

He gave me a test to confirm my loyalty toward Marco that time. I couldn’t get mad at him since that was his twisted way of protecting Marco, but I still feel a tiny indignant about it.

“Happy for you,” he tells us, glancing at my engagement ring.

“Thank you.” I smile at him.

“How’s the shadowing going?” Seb then asks Luca.

It’s the first time they’ve talked about the Leone’s business in front of me. Does this mean that Seb finally sees me as part of the family? He told me to stop calling him Don Sebastiano when we had coffee yesterday. We’ve been spending some time together, talking, strolling inside his villa, he even introduced me to his son Nicola.

Marco’s arms tighten around me as Luca replies, “Arturo Enzino spends most days in his apartment. At night, he goes to clubs or bars all around the city and stays out till late. If he has any contact with…his brother, Mario,”—he pronounces the last word in a growl—“it’s via phone.”

Luca is following Art? I didn’t know that. I haven’t heard from Art since the day Marco got me out of the Enzinos’ safe house. Now I know it’s thanks to Art that Marco came, and I also know he got hurt because of me. He disappeared while Marco and I were confessing our feelings to each other, and I never saw him again. His phone is off, or maybe he blocked me. I can’t reach him. I promised Seb not to see him again, at least for the time being since our families are on a war path. But I miss him terribly. I just wish I could hug him and thank him for saving me, tell him I don’t care whose brother he is, because he’s my friend and I love him.

Thinking about Mario makes me shiver with fear. When I gained my sight again, I learned that weakness lives in the eyes, and judging by his gaze, Mario Enzino is a very disturbed man. I nuzzle Marco’s neck, taking some comfort in his rich citrus and tobacco scent.

I’ll wait until the heat is off, but then I’ll go get my friend back.

“Still no luck on his phone?” Marco asks.

“It’s protected by the best security shield on the market. We need to get our hands directly on it.” Seb is sitting stiffly, looking around the bar with alerted eyes. His four bodyguards are standing not too far from us.

“Today, he went to Coretti’s house with his father,” Luca says, looking down at the table. He seems lost in his thoughts for a moment.

“The political wedding is supposed to happen in a a little more than a month. They postponed it for some reason.” Seb nods. “They’ll sign the contract that same day.”

I can’t believe Art is going to get married and to a woman. It just can’t be. He’s such a free spirit, a very gay one.

“Enzino’s men are turning reckless now, spreading around that Coretti’s turf will soon be theirs,” Marco states.

“We need to act fast,” Luca hisses with fire in his eyes. “I won’t wait anymore, Seb.”

He stares at Luca for a long time before stating, “Let’s move on with the plan then.”

Fly

One hour later, Marco and I are back at the penthouse.

Half the living room has become my working corner. The long table is covered in long bolts of fabrics, beads, chains, and much more. Marco bought me a big-ass, state-of-the-art sewing machine, which is set up near the glass wall. And since he broke the crystal butterfly—which was supposed to be a present for me—I asked him to buy ten of them, one for each year apart, and hang them from the ceiling. Now is too dark to admire the delicate rainbows they cast on every surface of the room when the sun hits them. But it’s a radiant spectacle that leaves me flabbergasted every single time.

My home. My man. My ring. I look down at my diamond and giggle like a little girl. I just can’t stop exuding happiness.

“Com’ere.” Marco’s voice reaches me. He’s stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, standing on the balcony, his back against the rail, legs spread. Waiting. Demanding. Commanding. I know exactly what he wants when he looks at me with that dark, predatory gaze. I’m only happy to oblige.

I soon cross the distance between us and hook my arms around his neck as he picks me up. His hands firmly on my ass, he jostles me for a moment while getting me situated against him.

“Amore mio,” he whispers. I’m his love.Me.The expression on his face—the faith and adoration there—makes me fearless and fearful at the same time.

His kiss is ardent, hungry, overwhelming, like his intention is to swallow me whole. And I’d let him gladly.

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