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“The fuck!” he hollers out.
Turning my back to the two of them, I say, “Marco, get your clothes on.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Haven’t you heard of privacy? Just because it’s your carriage house—”
“Get your fucking clothes on, and let’s go! I’ll meet you at the car!” I order.
I don’t have time for arguments, and I’m not about to tell him about his wife’s murder in front of his mistress. My older brother isn’t used to me talking to him like I did, but I don’t care.
I’m torn because a part of me believes if he was home, perhaps his wife would still be alive. Alternatively, if he was home, he might be dead right now. So, I’m unsure whether to be angry or relieved. The only thing that I feel is hurt.
Graziella was a good girl and didn’t deserve my brother’s shitty treatment. I don’t know what she did to make him hate her so much because he was protective of her at one point. As the years passed, he grew cold-hearted towards her and didn’t seem to care if she knew he was cheating.
I head back out of the carriage house and see my car waiting for me.
“We’re waiting for Marco,” I tell Elvio, my driver and an armed guard.
“Yes, sir.”
Marco comes running out of the house within two minutes and hops in the car sitting on the bench opposite mine.
“So, what’s up?”
Pushing up the privacy window, I glare at my older brother.
He glares back at me, huffing out a loud exhale as he folds his arms over his chest.
“Your wife.”
“What about my wife?” he sneers.
“She’s dead.”
“Dead? What the fuck you mean ‘dead?’”
“There’s been a hit at your house.”
“A hit?” he repeats.
I simply nod, and my brother’s eyes go wild. This is the first glimpse of Marco, the “Maniac” I’ve had in a long time.
