Page 13 of Rotten Men

“I said no when Antoine suggested marriage, and my answer remains the same,” I counter unemotionally.

“You know, marrying Antoine’s daughter might get those old farts off your back. You know as well as I do, they don’t look too favorably on your single status as a boss. She’s a highbornprincipessaand marrying her could be advantageous to the Outfit.”

“I said no, Giovanni! I think I’ve sacrificed enough for the Outfit, don’t you?” I howl, infuriated he’s insisting on this farce.

“Fine, asshole. You don’t want to marry her, knock yourself out, but at least get laid already. I mean, when was the last time you got your dick wet, for crying out loud? Poor bastard has probably shriveled up and died with your lack of action,” Gio grunts, aggravated.

“You do know that fucking isn’t the answer to every problem, don’t you?” I deflect, uncertain how this conversation got so sidetracked.

“There was a time you felt differently,” he counters, smugly.

“Things change.” I shrug.

“Yes, they do. Never thought I’d be the one telling you it’s time to move on. Your love life is depressing the hell out of me.”

“I’d rather you keep yourself focused on business instead of my absent love life,” I deadpan, completely done with his poor choice of topic at five in the morning.

“I just worry about you, Vince. Living all alone in that empty house in the godforsaken woods, secluding yourself from everyone. It isn’t healthy,” he cautions apprehensively, showing his true cause of concern.

I let out a long breath, knowing nothing I say will ease his mind. Still, I try regardless.

“I like the quiet. And besides, I have you if I ever need some noise in my life. You’re loud enough for both of us,” I mock back, finally gaining a true chuckle from my best friend.

“True. You would be a shut-in if it weren’t for me.”

“Let’s not overreact,” I smirk at the presumptuous bastard.

The line goes awfully quiet, and I feel it in my gut that Giovanni is about to delve into uncharted, fragile territory if I let this phone call persist any longer.

“I got to go,” I announce, my skin already itching to cut this call short before it destroys any peaceful rest I still hope to have this night.

“Okay,” I hear him mumble, “but Vince?”

“Yeah?”

“You do have me, brother. Always.”

I let his caring words reach my imprisoned heart, and let it touch its iron bars, if only for a second before its steel reminds me why it’s locked up in the first place.

“Ciao, Giovanni. I’ll call you later in the week for more updates,” I reply coldly before hanging up the phone, putting an end to my anxiety.

I get out of the car, wanting that stiff drink even more after such a conversation. I look at my empty house surrounded by the foreboding forest growth, with nothing but black shadows and unlit rooms to welcome me, and I wonder if Giovanni isn’t right on this one. Maybe I should move into one of the apartments in the city. It would simplify my life immensely just by eliminating the hour-long commute. And I’m sure the men who guard the property twenty-four-seven, would also appreciate a reprieve from the cold, somber residence.

But I wasn’t lying to Gio when I told him I liked the quiet my safe haven offered me. It’s one of the few places I can go each day that holds no lingering memory of anything that haunts me. I can breathe within these empty walls. I can close my eyes and dream of nothing at all. There is a certain peace in being alone. There are no witnesses to see how numb I am.

The minute I step foot in the house, my gut warns me that something is wrong. My only alarming evidence is a distant flowery scent I once treasured above all. I tell myself I’m being pathetic and overly vigilant. That my cautious steps inside my own home are uncalled for. Simply a triggered impulse, provoked by Gio’s telephone call, blown out of proportion. Still, the sweet fragrance hits my nose and heightens further once I reach my study doors. A dormant heart starts pumping madly within my chest as I let myself in and confirm my suspicions—I’m not alone in this house.

Holding a glass of whiskey in her hand, while admiring the framed photographs I keep on the fireplace mantel, stands a striking blond in the dark room, with only the beams of moonlight as company.

Fucking Giovanni.

This reeks of him and his constant meddling. He should know me better.

“Whoever sent you made a grievous mistake. I don’t take kindly to strangers invading my home when uninvited. Drinking my whiskey doesn’t get you any brownie points either, sweetheart,” I huff out, annoyed at the intrusion.

What was the idiot thinking? If I don’t pay any attention to all the free pussy that is shoved in my face left and right, did he actually expect I’d care to have the attention of a paid escort?

“Duly noted,” the alluring woman finally replies, and her soft tone, accompanied by the heavenly reminiscing perfume, makes my skin crawl with hate and my chest tighten with memories long buried. “But I thought you wouldn’t be too upset if a friend took some liberties,” she adds, taking another small taste of the hard liquor while keeping her back to me at all times.

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