Page 38 of Of Grief And Gratitude

“Yeah.”

Well, this would take some effort if he wasn’t going to say more than one word at a time. I grabbed a sponge and sprayed cleaner on my counters, busying myself with wiping down every surface in my kitchen until it shone. “Do the girls you’re with ever like making you bleed?”

He chuckled once. “Sometimes.”

“Like, biting and scratching?”

“Why?” Cosimo looked up at me then, his dark eyes narrowed. “Riona a hellcat?”

“She’s a fucking wildfire.” I scrubbed the coffee stain in front of my coffee maker and moved dirty mugs to my sink.

He lowered his eyes and started typing on his keyboard. “You don’t like it?”

“The opposite,” I admitted. “I’m just worried she might get carried away with the important parts.”

“Might not be so bad.” Cosimo shrugged, and the corner of his mouth curled upward, the only hint of emotion.

“You’re fucking insane.” I cringed and refused to ask him to elaborate. If he wanted his cock mutilated, that was up to him.

“Yeah.”

“Why the fuck are you even here right now?” He’d shown up and set up camp in the dining room, then shut up and did whatever the fuck he was up to on that damn laptop. I figured it was to give me hell about Riona coming over after I told him, but he’d been nearly silent.

“Mamma sent me.” It was a wonder he ever shared information with his tight-lipped demeanor.

“Elaborate.” I rinsed the dishes in my sink, loaded the dishwasher, and then began looking around the condo for other dishes I’d left out.

Cosimo let out a long-suffering sigh and stretched. “I’m supposed to make sure you stay put.”

That gave me pause. “Mamma wants me to stay put?”

“Mhm.”

Fuck. There was only one reason she’d need to keep tabs on me. I glared at my brother, the traitor. He’d sure as hell opened his mouth to our mother, and told her about my meeting. “I should take your knife and use it on you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Sure, he says a complete sentence now.

“How long do I have?” I asked, picking up my pace and gathering as many dishes and bits of trash as I could pile into my arms.

Cosimo looked down at his phone when it buzzed. “Couple minutes.”

“Fuck you, asshole.” There was no way I could take care of everything that quickly. I piled dishes in the sink, considering it was the lesser evil, and booked it back to my video room, gathering all the props I had out after filming the day before. I could not let my mother see a leather crop and flogger if she got nosy. Or the lube. Or the cock rings. Fuck.

Her light tap on my door seemed to echo through the condo, followed by Cosimo’s low, mocking laugh. Why the fuck did I have brothers?

I smoothed the covers on the bed, put the video camera away since I hadn’t pulled the memory card yet, then traipsed to the front door, opening it with a smile. “Mamma!”

“Figlio mio!” She patted my cheek as she entered, handing me an armful of bags. “Here, take these.”

Her guard was close behind, laden with more packages. He didn’t look amused to be a glorified errand boy. I nodded toward the dining table and dropped my bags close enough to Cosimo’s computer that he snatched it out of the way and shot me a scathing look that promised retribution.

“Pussy,” I whispered. “I didn’t even touch it.”

“Fuck you,” he hissed back, balling his hands into fists. “Come closer and say it again.”

“Language!” my mother scolded, shaking a finger at my brother. I grinned, satisfied with getting him in trouble.

---