Page 6 of Bitter Poetry
Leon’s words of caution are likewise fresh in my mind. But the train is already on the track, and either way, one does not politely decline the don’s daughter. Now I don’t have a clue how I feel beyond a vague sense of being trapped.
“You don’t need to be patronizing.” Christian points the clicker at the screen. “Never know what Jero is going to throw at me next, so I like to be prepared.”
“Hopefully, he doesn’t throw a bomb at you.” I smile. My brother—bomb making tutorials and all—manages to lift my mood. Loosening my tie, I collect a beer from the refrigerator. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about sharing my home with Christian—I left home years ago and he was annoying as fuck back then.
It’s gone a lot better than I expected. He mostly keeps to his room. We both work long hours—him shadowing Jero, and me as the consigliere.
I drop down onto the couch beside him. He flips the video off and switches to the sports channel.
“You don’t need to stop on my account.”
“I’ve watched that one before. It was just a refresher, you know.”
I side-eye him. “Please tell me you’re fucking with me.”
He meets my eyes. “I watch a lot of stuff on the dark web.”
“You’re really not fucking with me,” I mutter before tipping my beer to my lips. “This is a recent thing, watching questionable tutorials on the dark web?”
“No, I’ve been doing it for a while. Dad found the search history… That’s when he decided reviewing contracts might not be the right career for me.”
I snort a laugh. “Do I need to be aware of your search history?”
He turns back to the game that’s about to kick off and smirks. “No. It’s better this way. One day, if you ever need to build a bomb or pick a lock, it’ll be a nice surprise.”
Chuckling, I throw my arm around his neck and kiss the top of his head. “Love you, baby brother.”
“Love you too, big brother,” he mutters, peeling my arm off. “You can always count on me. I’ll always have your back.”
I drink my beer. We watch the game.
When I go to bed, I reflect on Leon’s warning after my father’s funeral.
On Cedro’s warning.
And on my brother’s declaration.
Strangely, it’s Christian’s words and the conviction in them that lingers longest.
CHAPTER 3
CARMELA
It’s my high school graduation party. The house looks amazing after the party planners decorated everything. My best friends are all here, along with Jessica, who is even wearing a dress under protest. We’re out on the lawn having photos taken.
“I can’t believe Dante brought that bitch model with him,” Jessica mutters under her breath.
He was tagged on an Instagram post with said model two days ago, which was swiftly taken down. Jessica screenshotted it for me and is now stalking her just in case she posts anything again.
She wanted me to confront Dante about it.
As if I would do that?
I told my father I wanted to wait until after college for the wedding. At least part of that decision was my feeling that I’m not ready for a man like Dante yet. I’m not even eighteen. He probably still thinks of me as a child. No one would expect him to remain celibate while I go to college.
Did it burn seeing that picture of them together, knowing he likely put his hands on her? Damn right it did.
Do I want to rip her pretty hair out and kick him in the balls? Yes, I do.
