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.

my eyes as the fucking ring knocks on the window.

don’t face the

me and knocks again.

intention of hurting him with the door, but he

the car as I stand by the open door and glare at the

on top of his Winter Suit and his face is blotched with redness and remnants

sick a week back, just after his

his fever-stricken body. It is cold today, but nonetheless beautiful, windless, yet tickled with a whisper of the upcoming snow that would soon grace

A fitting description for this entire weekend. We were going to be experiencing a

around Matteo, I can’t help the words leaving

unhidden standing in this weather looking at the boy who is slowly skirting off enemy lines.

skin, and if he was anybody else, I would have felt sorry for him.

to what you BELIEVE is playing through MY head, I don’t want to be subjected to a sneezing soldier the entire weekend.” He rolls

let your siblings in on your little secret? Tell me, Miss Capello, does your sister not smell the deceit and lies you try so

go to take a step forward but I see my brother just in time as

an agenda.” I hiss

a bullet to the head.” Matteo leaves me with 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 itching palm to slap him I bite my tongue and

the tension in the car is certainly at a dangerous point