Page 97 of Twisted Minds of Sin

“You are pathetic,” he shakes his head, “So when are we getting rid of her?”

I cock my eyebrow, “What the fuck…”

He lifts both hands, laughing, “Kidding. What do you want to do with her and how do you want it done?”

That's more like it.

EPILOGUE

Rose

A girl can wish, right?

Because as I sit on this loveseat by the window of my bedroom, staring at Benedetto and Orazio talking passionately about something I want to be involved in, I wish Benedetto could let me know which way forward.

Admittedly, we have been okay. No, more than okay. We have been better. But that's it. He hasn't said anything more than calling me ‘his’, or telling me how much he wants me. I cannot even dream of hearing him say he loves me because clearly, that feels impossible. And it is impossible because it is not how he feels.

Benedetto doesn't lie to me, but he knows how to avert a topic so he doesn't have to lie and if he hasn't said it, it's because he doesn't want to lie.

I lean on the backrest of the loveseat and fold my arms to rest my chin on them while I stare lustfully at him. Look at them. I smile. But then look at him. Damn, look at him.

I sound pathetic, but I'll pathetically keep whining and wishing for the things we could have if he would just open his mouth and sound like he wants me more than just for sex.

Benedetto is laughing now, swatting his deep brown hair and biting his lower lip, but not in his usual hard bite. This one is subtle. And the way his cheeks curve and dent is alluring. He dips his hand in the pocket of his black jeans and exhales sharply, then nods at something Orazio is talking about.

“You got me good, Benedetto, you got me damn good,” I blow out air in a way that makes my lips flutter.

I guess this is my fate. To finally find someone I want to be with more than just for the sex but not have them want the same thing. And I'm not even asking him to make any grand declaration of his undying love, I just want him to ask me out.

We can start from there, damn it.

How hard can it be to ask a lady out? Except I am not the lady he wants to ask out and be official with. And can you blame him? I cheated on a man I was engaged to and embarrassed his family. What man in his right senses would want to have anything serious with someone with my track record? To make it worse, he is a capo now, which means better offers from reputable families and women who would die being loyal to him. I don't stand a chance here. No family name to hold on to. No personal reputation to make my case with. I am just what I have shown I am, a cheat. Someone he can't bank on.

I sniff, and that's when I feel the tears on my cheeks. I hadn't even noticed I was crying.

But what if I show him he can bank on me? What if I can show him I am capable of being kept? That I can be all that?

What if.

I sit up and look around my bedroom, feeling a bit charged and motivated. Surely there's got to be something to do to make him see me differently. I should be able to fight for what I feel.

I spring from my seat and straighten my forest green wrap dress, then head for my door. Funny how Evelyn’s hideous style has grown on me.

I look down the hallway and ponder for a bit what I can do to make him start seeing me differently. I've been with him for a while and what has he never seen me do?

I start to pace, then decide to go to Maria for tips, but halt when I see the staff walk out of Maria’s bedroom with a tray of dishes.

Dishes. Dirty dishes mean a meal was eaten.

That's it.

I spin and head down, scampering down the stairs and feeling giggly and tickly as I now know what to do to help my case.

Benedetto has never seen me cook, so if I start by cooking him something, then maybe with time, I can think of other things to do that will make him see me differently.

I swing into the kitchen, happy to find no one inside. It's not time for dinner yet, and lunch has been served, so I have the kitchen to myself. I also found out that there's another kitchen that happens to be the general kitchen, which explains why thisone is mostly void of staff. It was for the family until Benedetto’s father died.

I spin, opening drawers and closing them as I look for what to cook that won't be a disaster. I begin to pluck out ingredients and line them up on the kitchen island.

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