Page 217 of Alessio

Something else for someone to use and say, he’s only where he is because of this. Or, he’ll always need someone watching his back because he wasn’t treated the same as the rest of us. Corrado knew how this garbage went, and he didn’t want to be put in the same trash pile.

Once again … his pride was still a bitch.

That was why Corrado found himself standing in the doorway of Alessio’s private rooms instead of his own, where he should have been to change clothes before going to find something to eat. No, he had to deal with this first.

“What you did today—don’t ever fucking do it again. You got me?”

Resting on the bed with his right ankle propped over his bent, left knee, Alessio slowly looked over the edge of the thriller in his hands. His stormy blue gaze drifted to the side as though he was considering what Corrado said, before coming back to the angry man standing his doorway.

“Sure, come in,” Alessio muttered. “Why not?”

“Cut the shit.”

An arched brow answered Corrado back. Alessio and his attitude was fucking infamous around this place. One could tell if the guy was going to be easy to deal with simply by the way he walked out of his rooms first thing in the morning. Head down, he was ready to fight. Head up, he’d be mildly pleasant. That attitude of his never went away.

The book in Alessio’s hands pissed Corrado off more, though.

Alessio didn’t move it, or set it aside. In fact, he went back to reading like he had better things to do than bother with Corrado. “All right, come back when you’re in a better mood.”

“Les.”

“Hmm?”

“What you did earlier in the gym … that can’t happen again. It’s bad enough that I already have people who think I shouldn’t be here to begin with. You were one of those fucking people, remember? I don’t need you—”

“I was trying to help.”

“It doesn’t help. It makes shit worse.”

“Corrado—”

“Don’t step in for me again,” Corrado said, his jaw tensing with every word. “The last thing I need is that kind of help around here, and you know it.”

His piece said—because he was sure he didn’t need to say more now—he turned to leave. It was only Alessio’s next words that made him hesitate to leave.

“Sorry I fucking gave a shit, then.”

Corrado spun back around so fast, the room was a blur. The thing was, by the time he turned around to respond, Alessio had already tossed his book aside so he could stand from the bed. The two of them met toe-to-toe in the middle of the room, never once breaking eye contact, either. He didn’t know what bothered him more … the fact Alessio didn’t get it, or that it felt like he didn’t fucking care either way.

“What did you just say?”

Alessio cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t stutter. If you want to make an issue out of nothing, then do that, but do it somewhere else, Corrado.”

He moved closer one inch.

Alessio didn’t back away.

That probably wasn’t the best idea, if only because now Corrado was close enough to Alessio that their chests grazed when he breathed a little too deeply. He could feel the other man’s heat—smell the woodsy aroma that always accompanied the leather undertones of his scent. Like this, so fucking close, he could see the flakes of dark navy that made his blue eyes rage like a storm, and the small scar that ran right through the cupid’s bow on his upper lip. He could count the few scattered freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose, nearly the same tanned color of his skin, so they would be missed if one was too far away. Except, right then, Corrado wasn’t too far away. He was too close.

And he noticed everything.

Things that made Alessio uniquely him.

Things Corrado liked.

He wanted to be pissed. It was easier for him to deal with Alessio and the shit he felt when the other man was around when his anger was present because that took over everything else first, and nothing else mattered.

Things weren’t so confusing.