Page 52 of Lines Drawn
“I may need some lessons from you on how to keep order.”
He grins. “I’d love to help you, Sweetheart.”
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and cross the distance between us to press a kiss to his lips. He wraps an arm around me, pulling me close and deepening the kiss for a moment. My tension eases a little at the feel of him, and his muscles relax as well. Seems we both needed this, as small as the moment is.
“We’ll get them back in hand,” he assures me. “Starting with breakfast.”
“Yeah…”
We fucking better, because I’ll be damned if Carter tries to turn my son against me…
Everything about this fucking sucks. The tense silence that rolls through the dining room at this forced breakfast performance may make me sick. Cristian’s lips purse as his gaze roams the table, noting that Tennant isn’t here.
I want to scream at the fucking asshole. As much as I wish my love was here, it’s a relief that he’s not. We could barely hold him back when we found out that everyone had been restricted from Roman’s room.
Concerned, I sneak a look at Emilio, and I grip my utensils tightly. His face is pale and drawn. When I woke up and noticed he hadn’t come back to my room, I worried. The intense, whispered conversation I had with Antonio before this fucking farce didn’t help my fury.How dare Allesandro force Emilio to the bedroom they shared?
He’s no fucking Master. He’s a bully. Far worse than when I first met him. I understand PTSD can have a major effect on someone, and the kidnapping must be causing serious devolving, but this? This is unacceptable. Not with everything Lio has gone through.
I almost jump when Allesandro clears his throat, the noise sounding louder in the silent room. “You will stay out of Roman’s room. That goes for everyone. He is currently getting an attitude adjustment—something all of you need. I expect more from my Family. Am. I. Clear?”
“Yes, Padrone,” each Martelli manages to grit out, but few of us meet his eyes. When he grips the back of Emilio’s neck, who was forced to sit next to the asshole, Hollis presses his hand against my leg—although I’m not sure which one of us he’s trying to restrain.
“That goes for all of the Amatos as well. You will not disobey our orders.”
The response is less cohesive this time, but it’s given. I hurt from hearing the levels of pain in the room. Fucking hell. I’m glad Cole is still excused from these meals. He doesn’t need to be around this shitshow. None of us deserve this. And I hope the so-called Bosses learn soon. You don’t fuck with us. They’re not as untouchable as they think they are.
“Did you have something to say, Benjamin?” Allesandro’s voice interrupts my thoughts as plates and drinks are set down in front of us.
He must have read my expression, as I’m confident I didn’t tell him to fuck off aloud. “No, Padrone.”
“Good. And on another note—if I hear anyone disrespect Cristian, you will answer to me. And my previous punishments? They’ll look like you're attending a fucking spa.” None of us respond, especially when he glares at Carter. Fuck him. “Are you asking for punishments already?”
Finally, we all give in and grumble our acknowledgement. He seems to let it go, even if we’re not nearly as energetic as he wants. The sound of silverware scraping plates is the only sound left in the room.
“Wha…?” We all turn our attention to Cristian, whose face is flushed red as he sways in his seat. I bite back a smile, because it’s about fucking time.
Allesandro weakly pounds on the table, and this time, I don’t bother hiding my grin. He glances around with glazed eyes, landing on Dr. Ranlen, who stares back, lifting her chin in defiance.
“What did you do?” Allesandro manages to say, as he grasps at the table.
Sniffing, Dr. Ranlen puts down her silverware. None of the assholes noticed that we didn’t eat or drink anything—or if they did, they didn’t fucking care. All we did was push our food around. “What I had to, Padrone. This is for your own good.”
Within seconds, there’s one thud and then another. Cristian’s upper body is resting on the table, but Allesandro has slid completely off his chair. I stifle a laugh when I notice a tear roll down Lio’s face. He rubs at his chest, as if it’s too much for him.
Standing up, I walk over to him and pull him into my arms. He gives a hitched sob, before pushing me away. Blinking his eyes rapidly, he shakes his head.
He gets up and quietly whispers, “It’s time.”
With that, he walks out, leaving us to follow. Fucking hell. This…fuck. Let’s hope it goes smoothly. We don’t need any more problems. Not right now. Hell, not for years after this bullshit.
I don’t bother to check on Cristian or Allesandro, although I know Sarah does. For all I care, they can die, and I don’t give a shit what the others say. They went way too far, and now? Now, it’s fucking war.
Doc pushes me into the study, and already I’m a ball of anxiety. The pillow between my back and the wheelchair, and the one I’m clutching, do nothing to save my poor, abused ribs from more damage, as the tenseness in my body is what’s making them ache.
Hopefully, the meds Doc gave me before they helped me into the chair will kick in soon. Not that any type of medicine can heal a broken heart…
Unlike the last time we had a meeting in this room, everyone is commingled. Jude sits with Antonio at his feet, and Tennant is in the chair next to them, while Benjamin hovers protectively at Ten’s side.
