Page 5 of Alessio

Not when right above it rested a text, one the man had sent only two days earlier. One Alessio had been waiting for—I slept with her, Corrado had said.

This had never been about the sex.

The physical shit meant nothing to Les. Sex was sex to him—another urge or need to fulfill, like eating or sleeping or whatever else he needed to live. The idea of men sleeping with Corrado fucked with Alessio’s head, and they drew the line. Women, though? He didn’t care, he got off on it, really.

Rarely did he attach emotions to having sex with females, and neither did Corrado. Together was different, of course. Emotions had always been attached to their fucking when it was just them in bed together.

So, no, he didn’t have a single fuck to give about Corrado sleeping with Ginevra.

It was everything else.

Everything Corrado didn’t say.

All the things he hadn’t done.

That was the problem.

Alessio blinked, and a week passed him like nothing at all. He didn’t know how it happened, but he blamed the haze of his mind.

The war.

To his left, he watched the quiet, dark city street and the people passing by the bar’s large bay windows as he tipped his whiskey up for another drink. Two glasses in, working on his third, and he still didn’t feel shit.

The fucking numbness had come.

Now, he wasn’t sure if he wanted it.

On the bar, his phone buzzed. Alessio ignored the device altogether. The chime of a bell somewhere behind him said someone new had come inside, and five seconds later, a presence sat next to him at the bar.

“Since when do you drink whiskey?”

Alessio made a thick noise, tipping his glass up for another sip. “Since now.”

He preferred rum.

Tequila.

Vodka.

Bourbon.

Beer.

Fucking wine.

Anything but whiskey. The spirit was Corrado’s drink, and Alessio didn’t see the appeal. Something about the liquor made him cringe, which was amusing when he could take shots of tequila like nobody’s business. The only time he liked the taste of whiskey was when he licked it off Corrado’s—

Nope.

Not going there.

Not tonight.

“What do you want?” Alessio asked.

“Are you going to keep staring out the window, or look at me?”

Well …