Page 6 of Twisted Minds of Sin

“You think?” I try to move past him but he comes in front of me again.

I get he is the voice of reasoning, but I'm done having this conversation with a shirtless man who has a love language.

“Tell me this isn't what I think it is,” he tries to bring his hands to rest on my shoulders but holds them in the air when he meets my eyes.

“I do one good thing for humanity and it looks suspicious?” I know what he is saying. It's my disease and my cause. And I know it's partly responsible for why I dived into the feud and brought her back home with me.

“I'll do what you asked, I'll call Paul, and Lawrence and tell them they have to move to this side of the country for safety. But I want to know one thing,” he has a serious expression now, “is it what I think it is?”

“You fucked the wrong pussy last night or what?” I switch the conversation.

He should know this is neither the place nor time.

“We will come back to this,” he exhales, “but I’m here for you.” He starts to move in closer with open arms.

“Touch me,” I scowl and he moves back with a grin.

“It’s called accepting and letting my inner self out,” he scratches the stubble on his cheeks.

“It’s inner self for a fucking reason, it should stay in,” I walk past him to go look for the one person I don’t want to see but have to anyway.

She should be in her quarter, which is on the second floor of the manor. I know she is not alone, but I don't have a business with the fucker she is with. Blood or not, he should avoid me.

I take the stairs and it must be my lucky day because she is just coming down, still in a pastel blue satin nightwear, her dark hair fizzled up on her head, with glossy eyes, a streak of mascara on her face, and flushed cheeks.

She clearly just had sex. Which also explains why she is up this early.

“Benedetto,” her caramel eyes squint a little as I come up to her, meeting halfway.

“Mother,” there’s no need for niceties that don’t fucking exist between the both of us.

“You’re back,” she stutters, “I didn’t know you’d be coming back so soon,” she wraps the robe of her nightwear around herself, trying to cover up some of her shame perhaps.

“I’m back, and here with a guest that will be here for a while, I have something to fix,” Scraps of information, that’s what she deserves, if not a little more than what she deserves.

“How long will you be staying?” She is slowly getting to the full height of her irksomeness.

“That’s none of your business,” I clip and she knows I mean it.

“Benedetto, the household has been doing fine since you left. Claudio has it all under control, and you should let him know you’re back and for how long you will be staying.” She rushes her words out like they’re burning coal on her tongue that she needs to spit out.

“What did you say?” I take a step closer and she stumbles back.

I swear to the fucking devil I am one fucking snap away from throwing her down the fucking stairs.

“I’m not saying this to upset you, I’m…”

“I should ask permission from him to stay because you decided to make your brother-in-law your husband? He is not my father. And this is my fucking house.” I’m burning hot and with how she trembles and cowers I know my mannerism matches the force of the wildfire spreading through me.

The last time she did this was when she told me she was getting married to my uncle, Claudio, just a few weeks after my father died.

They can preach all they want about true love, and I don’t give fucks, but they should draw a line when it comes to what can be said to me.

“I’ll just go back…” she spins and takes the remaining stairs to her quarter.

Asking me to take permission to stay in my fucking house. Madness.

I dig my fingers into my palm and bite down hard on my lower lip till I feel the pinch of a cut and taste the iron of blood.

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