Page 34 of Bittersweet Endings
“Kidding, business is business. I get it. Listen, I know you’ll be pissed by this, but I’m running it by Pops.”
I opened my mouth, but Marco interrupted me.
“Pops, not Lucky. A lot is going on, and we need to play this safe. To be smart.”
I dismissed him with a wave of a hand, the warmth of the liquor burrowing into my gut. A calming peace settled over me. And like an addict, I typed out a text that I knew I shouldn’t send. But I wasn’t going to listen to myself.
I didn’t plan to listen to anyone. Not even Marco, who kept rambling on about my protection and the family wanting to right all their wrongs. They were just words smattered together. False promises. Nothing would ever change.
I nodded along anyway.
My brother didn’t understand something. I’d always played it safe in this family. And look at where it had gotten me.
Chapter Ten
CARMINE RAGETTI
Ifelt nothing. Just the boring and mundane weight of exhaustion and responsibilities pressing against my skull. Another night, another party, another goddamn parade of people who thought they knew me.
They didn’t.
Lorenzo was in his element, laughing too loud, throwing back drinks like the night was endless. He thrived in this world—the flashing lights, the half-naked chicks, and the rush of cheap highs.
Hewas loving it, but neither Matteo nor I were enjoying ourselves. We’d been splattered across the internet once more:the Ragetti party animals back on the scene. But none of it mattered; it wasn’t drawing the motherfucker out.
Matteo sat across from me, his jaw tight and his fingers drumming against his glass. His silence was louder than the music. The fucker could always see through whatever I was trying to do.
I tipped my drink back, the burn of whiskey doingnothing to shake the stress stuck in my brain. The women who pressed against me, the empty conversations, the quick nut. I was fucking over it.
Even worse, my balls ached because I’d been denying them. I was exhausted. Tired of the mask, the expectation, the charade that I could just sink into this world again and forget.
Forget my responsibilities. Forget the shit JP was doing. And worse, forgether.
My hand tightened around my glass. It was laughable, really. That after everything, after every sin I’d committed, the only thing that still haunted me was letting her go.
Someone called my name. A soft, sultry voice—one I should have cared about. I didn’t. I barely turned my head, already forgetting the face behind it.
Lorenzo grinned at me from across the table. “Now this is the Carmine I remember.” He laughed. “Make them crawl on their knees.”
I let the smirk curl my lips and the darkness settle in my eyes. I also let them all believe what they wanted. In reality, this blonde was nothing like the thick curves of my fantasies
Matteo just watched me, his stare heavy with something close to pity. And it was pissing me off. Soon, I’d send him to The Slabs to relieve Alessandro and babysit Eva.
The blonde in front of me was trying too hard. Cheap perfume, a dress meant to be a second skin, lips painted blood red but had stained her teeth. Her shitty friends urging her forward didn’t even try to warn her about how messy she looked.
As she leaned in, all breathy laughter and empty promises of giving me the best night of my life, I wanted to snarl in her face. Her fingers traced the rim of her glass, a slow, deliberate tease, her body angled just right to catch my attention.
I felt nothing. Nothing but annoyance.
She could have been anyone. Another faceless whore trying to crawl into my bed, trying to touch a part of me that didn’t exist anymore. My balls fucking whined at the prospect of another denial.
I let my gaze drift across the room. More of them. More women in tight dresses, their bodies lined up like offerings. But they had no fuckin’ clue what they were offering up. I could rip them apart with my bare hands and they’d willingly bleed across them.
It used to be easy. Mindless. A distraction at best. But nothing was the same anymore.
I let the blonde touch my arm, her nails dragging lightly over my skin. My stomach twisted into something close to disgust. Easy was so fuckin’ boring anymore.
This bitch wasn’t defiance that I could break into surrender. She wasn’t the heat and the violence that shredded my skin open. She wouldn’t lap at the blood dripping from my soul. Or better… be the cause of the bleeding. Not like a seductive brunette.
