Page 64 of Unruly Obsession
Lily’s drawing circles over my chest with her fingertips as we stare at the ceiling. I have her pressed against me, the sheets stained from my wound, but she seems unbothered by it. I almost expect her to snap back to reality and reprimand me for the mess.
I purposely ignore thoughts of my mission and the bloody trail I’ll be cutting through of those who dared to jeopardize her safety. Right now, she’s safe in my arms, soothing something within me.
“Does this tattoo signify anything special?” she asks. I glance down at the one she’s skimming with her fingers. Each of my tattoos has a meaning or reason behind it. I find it ironic that the one she's asking about is the most significant one on my arm.
The angel with the bow.
I’ve never told anyone what that tattoo represents, and silence fills the air as I ponder how, or if, I should explain it. I don’t want my demons or burdens weighing on Lily. Not because she’s fragile but because she’s empathetic. I don’t want her ever thinking I’m anything but strong and stoic.
“I got this tattoo for my sister when I was sixteen.” The weight of the words out loud piles in my lower stomach. I try not to think about her often, and I mention her out loud even more rarely. But ever since Lily Taylor came into my life, the memory of her haunts me.
“Sister? You have siblings?” she asks, popping up onto her elbows so she can look at me.
Even with the heaviness the reminder of my younger sister causes, my lip twitches from Lily’s open shock. I trace the lock of hair that frames her face. “Despite what you might think of me, I wasn’t raised in a cave by wolves. I had a family, too.”
Her eyebrows dip. “Had?”
Giving her this information does very little to threaten me in any way, and yet, I’m surprised by my hesitation to tell her the truth; that constant ingrained guilt around that day reappearing.
“Lorenzo?” Lily pushes as her hand comes to stop mine from tracing her hair, as if that’s what’s distracting me. But then she draws it to her cheek, to cup her face, as if giving me her warmth and strength.
She’s stronger than she realizes, with fire dancing behind her eyes, and I hope, if nothing else, that even after we part ways, I can help free her from her bonds. Though the thought of never seeing her again makes me feel… Well, it just makes me feel.
“I have a younger brother who may or may not still livein London. God knows where he is now. And Ihada younger sister.” The way her face twists in pain makes me uncomfortable. No one looked at me like that when the incident happened. There wasn’t sympathy, only resentment and blame. I almost want to laugh that the type of support and caring I was looking for all those years ago is being offered to me now. Too bad I killed that boy inside me long ago.
“What happened?” she asks gently.
So much.
That day changed everything.
I’m resistant to opening up about it after so many years of suppressing it. But it’s the way Lily gazes at me with silent expectation that no matter how long it takes, she’ll wait to hear it that has me deciding to tell her.
“My brother and I were put in charge of looking after my younger sister, Milia, one day. She was the apple of my father’s eye. At the time, my brother and I were being trained to serve the Armani household when we came of age.” I can tell from the way her eyebrows dip that the concept of being trained from a young age to be a killer might seem cruel to some, but I’d be lying if I didn’t confess that it came naturally to me. It was those skills that eventually led me to be Luca's bodyguard and second in charge.
“My father had business to deal with while we were staying in a small coastal town in Italy.” I remember it vividly, how one second she was there, and the next she was gone. I don’t even know how to put that into words. I couldn’t even on the day when they found her body at the bottom of the cliff.
But for Lily, I want to try. I don’t know why it’s important that she knows, but in some sick and twisted way, Lily reminds me of Milia. I can’t recall what her voice or laugh sounded like, but I'll never forget her scream.
Milia and Lily share the same bright energy that naturally draws people in. It’s probably why she infuriates me so much when she hides inside herself to make herself smaller in order to fit other people's expectations.
“What happened, Lorenzo?” Lily prods gently, and it draws me back into the room. I hadn’t even realized I’d gone into distant memories. Their relevance isn’t something that should still hinder me today, but alas, here we are.
I stroke her cheek. “We were chasing her, playing a silly game she used to enjoy, but when she got too close to the cliff edge, part of it gave way, and she slipped. I didn’t make it in time.”
Lily sucks in a harsh breath, and tears spring to her eyes. It surprises even me how she can be so moved by my story. A story that is mine, but was so long ago, I’ve cut all ties with any emotional response to it.
“My father hated my brother and me after that. It broke apart what was left of my family. My mother had died two years before that, and Milia had become his everything after her passing. After the incident, he couldn’t even look at us. He’d often beat us to the point where I didn’t think he’d stop. On the nights he drank, it became worse.”
I watch her carefully, waiting for any kind of response, because I’m certain she’s used to dealing with a similar monster. The difference between then and now is that I’m no longer scared to face it. If anything, I welcome it to bare its ugly fangs at me. But not at Lily. I need to know if her father has given in to his vices as violently as mine did.
When she says nothing, simply feeding me a silent comfort I don’t think I deserve, I embrace it. Grateful that, in this small moment of time, someone cares for the boy I’d been. But I won't stop prodding her to tell me about what her father is like when he drinks. For now, though, I continue with my story.
“It’s actually Luca I have to be grateful to. I planned on taking my younger brother from my father, but he wouldn’t follow. I knew there’d be consequences if we left the family, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to make sure he made it out alive. My brother, Dante, is… smart-lipped. Never knew when to keep his mouth shut. One day, my father was beating him so badly I thought he might actually kill him. I was locked in another room, and no matter how much I tried to break down the door, I couldn’t. And then I heard Luca’s voice.”
I smirk, thinking back to the time. I’d hated the Armani family and the subservient relationship we had with them. I’d seen how my father fawned at Luca's father’s feet, responding to his every call. By extension, it meant he also revered Luca, even when he was only a teenager.
“Luca was younger than me by a few years, but wielded the power of the next Mafia heir already. He was only there on holidays because by then his father had relocated to Manhattan, while my father conducted business on behalf of his second-in-charge in Italy.
