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“No.”
“No, thank you,” I correct her, to which she rolls her eyes. Then I pour myself a whiskey and turn to study her.
“Who would watch Emma while we’re gone?”
“I assume Hyacinth.”
“Soldiers. I need to be sure she’ll be protected.”
“She will be protected. I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”
“I don’t think I had a choice.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Commotion has us both turn to the door. Before either of us speaks, the door slams open, and a very angry, obviously drunk Bastian comes into view. He glances at me, but it’s Vittoria he has in his sights as he stalks in and drops the keys onto the table beside the sofa.
Jarno appears behind him. “Boss?”
I look at my brother watching Vittoria and at Vittoria watching him. “I got this. It’s fine. Good night, Jarno.”
He closes the door.
Bastian advances toward Vittoria, and she backs away, their steps almost coordinated. He only stops when she’s cornered.
“Get the fuck away from me,” she says to him.
He grins, gaze moving over her. “I don’t think so.” He turns to me and eyes the whiskey at my side. “Pour me one.”
“I think you’ve had enough.”
“Do you?” he asks and glances at Vittoria. “Stay. Don’t fucking move.” She doesn’t move as he walks to me, takes the glass from my hand, and swallows the contents down. “There. I’ll say when I’ve had enough.” He shoves the glass into my chest, and I take it.
“I was worried about you, brother,” I say.
He narrows his eyes at me, and I wonder if his anger isn’t burning away the alcohol as we speak.
“You were so fucking worried about me that you came to get me? Oh no, wait, that was Jarno. You sent a fucking soldier.”
“He said you would have driven. Is that true? Because I don’t think you’re in any state to drive, do you?” He snorts and turns back to Vittoria. “You could have killed yourself if you’d driven.”
“Wouldn’t that be the best outcome for the two of you?” he asks, giving me his full attention again. “Me out of the fucking way?”
I step right up to him and slam him against the wall. “Don’t you ever fucking say that. Don’t you dare. I’m not losing you, too. God. Haven’t we lost enough?”
He looks at me, his lip curled. “Tell me something. If you had to choose, who would it be? If you could save one of us, who the fuck would it be? Because a few weeks ago, I’d laugh that off. Now, though…” He glances at Vittoria. “Now I’m not so sure, brother.”
“You’re fucking drunk. Go sleep it off.”
“Answer my question. Unless you can’t, which is an answer itself. Get off me.” He shoves my arms off. “It’s not you I’m here to see.”
He turns to Vittoria, who looks back at him in defiance, refusing to move away when he stalks to her, stopping just short of her.
“You think you’ve won? Got your baby sister here, and you think you’ll walk away unscathed? Because I have news for you. You’re not. No one walks away from something like this unscathed.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Vittoria asks, slamming her hands against his chest to shove him away. He doesn’t budge. “Trust me, Bastian, I know. You hate me because my father loved me. That’s it. Right there. You hate me because my father loved me. Let me ask you a question. Do you think you’re the only one hurting? You think you’re the only one being eaten up by guilt? My father loved me. He loved only me. My brother has always hated me for it. Punished me for it. My sister? My sweet little baby sister? All he had for her was scorn.”
He snorts, opening his mouth. “There’s a reason for that—”
