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.

the car's window and I close my eyes as

don’t face the perpetrator.

me and

open the door with every intention of hurting him with

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

Suit and his face is blotched with redness and remnants of his sickness.

week back, just after his return from Chicago. He also

assist with 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 our yards.

weekend. We were going to be experiencing

Matteo, I can’t help the words

this weather looking at the boy who is

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

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

the only reason? Or are you just scared I will let your siblings in on your little secret? Tell me, Miss Capello, does your sister not smell

brother just in time as he marches toward us with

with an agenda.” I hiss at Matteo, as he

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

some paperwork I need to get done.” Filippo is not in a good mood. I wonder what was said in my absence, but the tension in the car is certainly at a dangerous point when Guilia jumps into