Page 16 of Brutal Legacy

“I’m sure I’m just a spoiled little daddy’s girl to a guy like him. A guy with real problems.” I watched Elio Santori work in the late afternoon sun. It was my latest hobby.

Elio had set his pitchfork down and was heading toward the house.

I stood and smoothed my romper. It had polka dots on it, and I’d made it myself. I was happiest behind my sewing machine.

“Do you want another soda? I’m going to get one,” I murmured.

Tom laughed. “You do that, you thirsty bitch. Say hi to thecittaiolofor me.”

I gave him the finger and left the room, skipping downstairs to find Elio’s boots already off at the door. I wandered through the house, wondering if he’d gone to the bathroom, and arrived at the kitchen.

The fridge door was ajar, and Elio Santori, in all his sweaty, bare-chested glory, was standing in the gap. He straightened up when I approached, a glass bottle of lemonade in hand.

He put the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back, taking long gulps of the juice. I watched, transfixed. I was so lost in the vision of him drinking, I jumped when he spoke.

“Can I help you? Don’t tell me you’re here to get me in trouble for touching something in the fridge?”

I wandered farther into the kitchen, pasting nonchalance across my face.

“I’m not the boss of the refrigerator. Do what you want,” I murmured.

He watched me impassively and then took another drink.

I let my gaze slide down his torso. He was twenty, only a few months older than me, but he felt so much older. It was his worldliness. I had none, and he had it all. He’d lived a thousand lives in the city, dangerous, difficult lives, while I’d been here, playing with dresses and dolls and being spoiled by my dad.

“How’s your face?” Elio suddenly asked. He shut the refrigerator and set the lemonade bottle on the counter. He turned, and the movement brought him close to me.

“Fine. You barely brushed me.” For some reason, being seen as weak in front of this man felt unbearable. Also, it had been more than a week since he’d accidentally hit me. What kind of damage did he think he’d done?

He brought a hand up and gently cupped my cheek. Heat ripped me through me like nothing I’d ever felt before.

“You lied for me,” he said, his tone suspicious. “Why would you do that?”

I swallowed the hard knot in my throat. “Why not? It didn’t cost me anything, and like I said, you barely brushed me.”

He tilted his head. “So, it wasn’t pity? You didn’t feel sorry for the broke pickpocket who hadn’t eaten in a week?”

I scoffed. “Feel sorry for you? Why should I? Boo-hoo, the bad-boy gangster was hungry… cry me a river.”

“Gangster?” he repeated, dropping his hand from my cheek.

“I heard your dad was Mafia.”

Elio snorted. “He wished. He was a bottom-feeding wannabe. If Renato De Sanctis is a white whale, my father was krill. I don’t aspire to that kind of life.”

“You don’t? Then what do you aspire to?” I asked.

He was still standing so damn close.

Elio leaned in. Was he going to kiss me? He was so near.

“I don’t have a fucking clue, but I know it won’t be here in this shithole town. I’m getting out of here, as soon as I can. If you’re as smart as I think you are,topolina, you’ll do the same.”

“Topolina?” I parroted the nickname, unsure whether to be offended or not.Topolina. Little mouse.

“Haven’t you heard the story? Il topo di città e il topo di campagna.I’m the city mouse, you’re the country mouse.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Wasn’t the city mouse rich?”

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