I forced myself to speak, “Thank you.”
I moved my gaze to my brother, Vito, who loomed in the back of my dressing room like a treacherous shadow waiting to engulf me.
Wow. He’s grown now.
My brother had sprouted up like a giant demented beanstalk since the last time I’d seen him, his boyish features replaced by sharp ones that mirrored his father's.
He used to have an afro similar to my mother’s. The kids at school would pick on him for it. We’d been the only students of color there. When he was in the first grade, Vito almost killed one kid by slamming his head over and over into the pavement because of the teasing.
No one picked on his hair after that.
But now. . .apparently, he kept his head shaved.
Completely bald.
It gave him an ambiguous ethnic appearance. With that barely tanned complexion, I bet many couldn’t guess what he was.
Vito’s wicked hazel eyes remained on me.
Good God. He’s only eighteen and has to be at least six feet.
In his hand, he twisted a very sharp knife. Silver skulls with empty eye sockets covered the handle. Strange symbols had been seared into the blade.
I cleared my throat. “Hello, Vito.”
He formed his mouth into a cruel smirk but said nothing, choosing instead to let the knife speak for him.
It twisted and gleamed under the vanity lights.
And for a second, I caught a hint of red streaks on one side like. . .he’d just killed someone with it, and never cleaned the blade.
Jesus.
A bead of sweat ran down my back, seeping through the fabric of my costume.
Suddenly, my father's gaze shifted from me to Vito. “Put that knife away. You’re scaring Bella.”
A dark terrifying voice left my brother’s mouth as if something messed up had happened to his vocal cords. “I’m sorry.”
I shivered.
What happened to him?
“I wouldn’t want to scaresweetBella.” Vito continued to hold my gaze and keep that cruel smirk on his face. Slowly, he deliberately slid the knife into the sheath at his side.
My stepfather turned back towards me, and his eyes softened momentarily and for a second, I swear I saw a flicker of regret.
But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual air of cool indifference. “You’ve done well for yourself, Bella. I am proud of you.”
The impact of those words shouldn't have had any effect on me, but they did.
My heart swelled with emotion, and I felt even more euphoric than I had while suspended above the stage, basking in the thunderous applause of the audience.
In fact, the rush of adrenaline was nothing compared to the warmth that spread through my chest at this unexpected declaration.
Did he really say that?
My life, my work, my passion—all acknowledged and validated for the first time by the man who always seemed unreachable. Despite all my bitterness towards him, despite everything we'd been through, I was profoundly touched.
