Page 77 of Kissing the Villain

“Luca acted out when she had manic episodes. He even stole my dad’s car, thinking he would get my mom’s attention.” Marcello laughed. “The shit Luca would do… He couldn’t process her illness. It was like the worse she got, the more he would push the limits of my father’s patience.”

“Did she have bipolar disorder?”

Marcello nodded.

“Did she need to be hospitalized?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Your grandfather was a huge help. He treated her privately and prescribed her medications under an alias so no one could link them back to her.”

“Why was her illness a secret? Plenty of artists struggle with mental health issues. I read an article that over seventy percent of all artists have a mental illness.”

“She wanted to maintain her legacy without people thinking she was crazy like van Gogh.”

I laughed. “She wouldn’t have cut her ear off.”

“Some days, I didn’t know if she was coming or going. She was unpredictable.” He glanced down at me, his expression unreadable. “Kinda like you. My dad says all the beautiful women worth chasing after are a little crazy. I think he’s right.”

Now, it all made sense. I’d always known I reminded Luca of his mother because of our artistic passions, but this was shocking.

“People with mental illnesses don’t like being called crazy.”

He smirked. “How about passionate?”

“I can live with that.”

Our fingers brushed as we walked, and I wanted to grab his hand so badly.

“When I’m with you, I feel sane.”

“How does Luca make you feel?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and considered his question. “Like my heart is about to explode. Like I can’t breathe, and he’s holding my head underwater.”

“My brother has that effect on most people. I guess you can say he’spassionate, too.”

We walked for another hour, occasionally exchanging words but not feeling pressured to fill the void.

I enjoyed being with Marcello.

He clutched my shoulders when we reached his special spot, turning me to face his estate. The sky was a faint blue, still dark in some places, but with a pinkish-orange glow dancing along the horizon.

“Beautiful,” I whispered.

Marcello rested his chin on my head. “I thought you might like this.”

I relaxed in his arms, consumed by the high this man provided me. For years, I thought he was just like Luca. But Marcello Salvatore was full of surprises. Sure, he had a darkness inside him. We all did. Beneath his chiseled exterior was much more than a man capable of violence and cruelty.

“Marcello, I need to know something.”

His body tensed as if he was anticipatingthisquestion.

“Is my brother alive?”

I felt him slowly slipping away from me physically and emotionally. What we had shared a moment ago almost seemed like a distant memory. His hands fell from my body, leaving me desperate for his touch.

“If you want answers, marry my brother. Swear the oath, become our queen, and then we will tell you everything.”

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