Union Of Death (Secrets of The Famiglia Part 2)

The boot slams with a big thud as my sister’s mood enhance her ability to close things quietly.

I sit in the front of the Black vanquish OWNED by my brother.

Pushing the button to move the leather heated seat a bit forward, I slip my phone in my bag, ignoring Guilia and Filippo discussing her sudden blue mood. The reason is me. I knew that this morning when she arrived and heard from Papa that I would be joining the two of them. I stood there shocked that it was the first time she heard about it.

Guilia and Leonardo’s relationship was no longer just an arranged marriage. And as much as she tried to convince me last month when we had our luncheon of her loathing for Leonardo, foolishness is not a trait I possess. Guilia had gotten close to her soon-to-be husband and the closer she got, the more she secretly wished I wasn’t around to witness any of it.

And I know it has nothing to do with any negative underlying issues she has about my 4-year-old crush on her soon-to-be husband. She just feels awkward.

My sister convinced herself that any sign of happiness from her part meant a heart-breaking sadness on mine.

Admittedly, it’s selfish of me not to have convinced her otherwise by now. To tell her the truth would mean I confess it to myself and risk other people finding out about my sins with Marco Catelli, namely, my father.

Sometimes in the prism of my own self, I wonder if my silence really stemmed from self-preservation and the wrath of my father or was it that I secretly enjoyed her pity and spirited emotions that held me in its core.

I touch the steering wheel as a colorful bird sweeps through the air. My phone rings and I already know who it is by the ring tone.

“I’m not picking up,” I say to the empty car, as my heartbeat gets heavier.

appears by the car's window and I close my eyes as the fucking ring

don’t face

me and knocks

deep breath and open the door with every intention of hurting him with the door, but he must sense my venomous thought

I stand by the open door and glare at the arrogant blue-eyed, blonde-haired Matteo Fucking Di Salvo standing less than

top of his Winter Suit and his face is

to Elise, Matteo got sick a week back, just after his return from Chicago. He also requested 0 days off.

body. It is cold today, but nonetheless

the eye before the storm. A fitting description for this entire weekend. We were going to be experiencing a cold

bite my tongue around Matteo, I can’t help the words leaving my

in this weather looking at the boy who is slowly skirting off enemy lines. The question is

playing in that little head of yours, I was not the brains behind this.” His voice is like sandpaper to my skin, and if he was anybody else, I would have felt sorry for him. But he isn’t anybody.

through MY head, I don’t want to be subjected to a sneezing soldier the entire weekend.” He rolls his eyes, huffing in

will let your siblings in on your little

a step forward but I see my brother just in time as he marches toward us with a

with an agenda.” I hiss at Matteo, as he has the audacity to

those parting words and I want to scream, shout and swear as loud as my voice could possibly manage, but with a thumping heartbeat, flushed skin, and an

in a good mood. I wonder what was said in my absence, but the tension in the car is certainly at a dangerous