Page 63 of Twisted Embrace

“Fuck!” Mattia shoved himself away, rolling onto his side.

I rolled over onto my back, taking several deep breaths before struggling to my feet the same time as Mattia. We glared at each other, the hatred continuing. He was the one to turn his back first, pacing the floor, his feet crunching the broken glass.

The dense air in the room was stifling.

“Why are you doing this?” Joy asked, although I could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t anticipate an answer. “I’m not some pawn to be used in your sick game. Either one of you. I don’t care who my sperm donor was, my name is Joy Levin. My mother and father are Marsha and Samuel Levin. They raised me. They nurtured me. They cared for me when I was sick. When I had cancer. They refused to let me die when my body wanted to give out. They cheered me on when I graduated from high school early, even though I was forced to skip an entire year because of my disease. They were there when I walked the stage getting my degree from college, cheering me on with balloons and banners flying high in the sky. They loved me and I loved them. How fucking dare you act as if I’m a commodity to be bought and sold.”

I took a deep breath, furious with myself for sparring with Mattia.

She stormed toward me, cracking her hand against my cheek. I accepted the blow, the jolt just brutal enough my ears rang. But for the first time in as long as I could remember, I knew I deserved her attack.

“I was stupid enough to think you might care about me, Enzo, after you saved my life several times. I know. Crazy. Right? You only did so to ensure you had something to barter with. To hell with you. All of you. This means nothing to people who have everything, but I hate you.” She took a deep breath, looking me in the eyes, refusing to back down. “And I always will.”

A cold shiver drifted down my spine, and a sharp stab sliced into my system.

“You are brothers whether you like each other or not. Act like it.” Lucia’s chastising voice cut through the air.

As I raked my hand through my hair, I turned my head in Joy’s direction. Her expression was full of anger, her eyes searching mine. Then she turned away, walking from the room. Lucia remained, folding her arms across her stomach, glaring at me as she’d done so many times over the years.

“Both of you disgust me. That beautiful woman is not a possession. If you dare attempt to take her away from our family, I will make you suffer.” Lucia walked closer, shaking her head several times. “For some stupid reason, Joy cares about you. She also trusts you. I told her she was ridiculous in thinking you could give a damn about anyone but yourself, but she’s insistent you’re a good guy underneath all the bullshit you portray. I told her she was a fool. Now, why don’t you do something you’ve never done before.”

Then she hesitated, tilting her chin. The slight smile she issued had a distinct touch of evil. “And what’s that, sister of mine?”

“Prove me wrong.”

She backed away, snapping her head in Mattia’s direction before walking out.

Mattia groaned from directly behind me, moving closer. “You care about this woman.”

I almost laughed hearing his statement. The truth wasn’t easy for a man like me to admit to myself. I wasn’t certain how I should feel about her, but I knew my world wasn’t good for a woman like Joy. It would be like capturing a butterfly, studying its beauty and grace then ripping off the wings, thinking I was offering protection when all I’d be doing is destroying something so precious.

“It doesn’t matter whether I do.”

“Yeah, it does. Se l’amore scende sul tuo mondo annerito, la potente angoscia modellerà il resto della tua vita. Fai attenzione che le cicatrici non ti spezzino l’anima.”

I held my breath as he walked out, exhaling once he’d done so. It would seem Mattia was a philosopher.

If love descends on your blackened world, the angst will shape the rest of your life. Be careful the scars don’t fracture your soul.

Sadly, his thoughts were profound. Joy was the kind of woman who would scar not only my soul but my heart as well. But in truth, maybe that was the kind of damage I’d been searching for my entire life.

CHAPTER 19

“Love is beautiful, addiction hurts.”

—Muskaan Arora

Joy

Addiction.

I’d never had one until now. In my entire life, I’d been organized, a planner not only for the moment but also for my future. I’d known early on I’d wanted to become a reporter, adoring the use of words and stories told from different points of view. I’d ignored pompous men who’d believed they were better than everyone else. What passion I’d allowed had been by choice, accepting there would be a few dates, maybe a couple of weeks of time spent together but nothing else.

Then I’d met Enzo.

A firestorm. A tornado who’d interrupted my life, refusing to take no for an answer. And God help me, he’d become the very thing I’d run away from.

An addiction.

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