The single line transforms into the letter ‘F’ as Luca marks the man with his initial, sick pleasure widening his smile. The floor pools with Brady’s blood, the coppery smell filling the room. Luca wastes no time in dragging the blade down the sleeves of the man’s jacket, slicing through the skin and muscle of his biceps at the same time.
A stomach-curdling scream tears from Georgio’s throat, cutting short when he gasps as the hilt of the blade meets the man’s hand, pinning it to his thigh. He makes no attempt to beg. No pleading for his life. He got into this mess himself and now he has to pay the consequences.
Blood spots the ground, absorbing instantly into the porous tiles.
Leaving the blade in his hand and thigh, Luca takes out another. He repeats the same action to the other arm, finishing with the final plunge of the blade into his thigh. The man looks like the reverse version of Jesus. Instead of being nailed to the cross, the one he had to bear, Brady is pinned to himself. It’s like a poetic symbol, the irony that he was his own undoing in all of this.
When Luca finally steps back to take a look at the simple masterpiece, he nods to Levi to take over.
Levi takes his own knife in one hand, grabbing the man’s hair with his other. He tilts his head back, glancing once more at Serafina for confirmation. We’re all looking at her, waiting with bated breath for her to give the signal.
“Do it.” She murmurs, stepping away from the wall. Even in the shadowy room, I can make out her sullen features, and I sense she has had enough of ‘playtime’ as Levi called it. She won’t be the one to admit she doesn’t want to watch the rest, so I approach her, placing my hand on her back and guiding her towards the door.
“I’m fine,” she snaps once the door closes behind us. I’d believe her if it weren’t for the fact she pauses her defiant footsteps and presses a back to the wall. Her chest rises and falls as she gulps down air, and when I take a closer look, she’s clammy.
Stepping forward, I lift her chin, watching a single bead of sweat drip down her temple.
“I’m fine,” she whispers, but she loses all strength in her words.
It’s no use fighting each other on this and she knows it. I recognize the resignation in her eyes. She leans into my palm, her cold cheek cupped by my hot hand.
“I’m fine.”
Serafina
I spend the entire night tossing and turning, images of Brady bleeding out under Luca’s knife plaguing my dreams, a myriad of scenarios running through my mind. I could hear Giovanni lingering outside my bedroom door all night, but between the incident with Luciano and Brady, I couldn’t find the energy to tell him to leave.
Instead, I allowed my own demons to wage war in my head. I’d be an idiot to ignore the fear and anxiety crawling under my skin. Luciano was the last person I thought would step foot on my premises, but I guess I should have known that guy does whatever he wants regardless of the consequences. He doesn’t understand fear like I do because he’s usually the one inflicting it. All that man has ever done is cause pain and suffering, I had to find that out the hard way.
A tired sigh escapes me as I gaze at myself in the mirror. Dark eyes and pale skin reflect back at me. Being exhausted, yet not tired enough to sleep starts to war with your mind. The evidence of my lack of rest shows clearly on my face, and not even my make up can cover it. Try as I might, being a cold-hearted leader isn’t as easy as it looks.
I wanted to make Brady pay for what he did, he deserved to be made an example of. But I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t stand there and act like it didn’t affect me. Dead bodies will never be normal.
A low whistle comes from across the room. Levi relaxes on my couch while his eyes are trained on me. Appreciation swims in his gaze, making my cheeks warm under the intensity. “Looking good, Bianchi.”
I smile, feeling the blush creep up on my cheeks.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to come along?” Levi asks.
I watch him through the mirror on the wall as I slip on some earrings. “By us, do you mean you? Because I don’t recall you being invited,” I laugh.
He rolls his eyes at me before standing up and messing with his suit jacket. “I don’t see Gio’s invitation anywhere.” His words are filled with a subtle resentment, a sliver of jealousy lacing them.
“Gio is my bodyguard,” I say, spinning around to face him. “One who you insisted I have. He goes wherever I go, right? Anyway, this is a social event. Giovanni and I will be fine for a few hours.”
I don’t miss the barely audible grumble from him as I mess with the straps to my dress. I’ve gone for a simple black dress that hugs my curves and trails behind me. It’s effortlessly elegant, in my opinion, and from the way Levi is watching me, I’d say it’s a hit. I shake the thought from my head— I didn’t put this on for him. Still, his gaze as he approaches me is filled with the familiar lust I saw a few days ago, and it has my stomach somersaulting.
We still haven’t spoken about the kiss, or the way it made me feel. It’s totally on me because I made the first move, but Levi didn’t stop me, and he sure as hell didn’t tell me it was wrong. In fact, it was the opposite. He wanted more, he wanted me to admit it was more than a kiss. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t, but he’s my second. I need to maintain distance and respect, not allow any possibility of feelings or emotions to blur my plans.
I need to focus on the Verdis, on making them pay for what they did. I don’t have time to lose myself in romance.
“I should be there, in case something happens to you,” he states firmly. His gaze is immobilizing as he gets closer.
I step back at his closing proximity, my back pressing against the wall. “I don’t think anything will happen at this gala, Levi. It’s full of stuck up businessmen who would rather boast about their latest expense than assassinate someone.”
“Are you including your father in that list, too?” he teases.
“Maybe,” I reply, biting my bottom lip to contain the smirk. We both know I’m doing this for my father.