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“Sweet pea, you have sketches of her littered everywhere in your father’s study, I will bet my Rolls Royce that you don't,” he gives a tight smile.
“Art is a form of expression and I needed to let it out somehow, you fucker.”
“I can see your expression and it says only one thing. You want to fuck the girl again.”
I grunt, “Do you not have something productive to do with your life today?” I exhale and walk out of my bedroom.
“I'll be here if you need me,” Orazio hollers after me, chuckling.
Well, I hope not. How hard can it fucking be to just be around her? So what if I want to fuck her? That shouldn't be a big deal. That should be something I can get under control. Right?
I take the stairs down to her, feeling nauseated as I get closer but I'll take this feeling instead of feeling of a heatwave brewing in the background.
“Benedetto,” My mother and I cross on Rosaline’s floor.
“Mother,” I flash her a stiff smile.
“I was coming up to you,” she smiles too brightly.
“Why?”
“I want to see how you are doing,” she closes the distance, “How do you feel?” She lifts her hands to my face but I move away.
“I feel good,” I clip, wanting her to be gone as quickly as she made her way here.
“The news changes everything doesn't it?”
“What news?”
“Romano and Giada,” she chuckles.
“And what would that change?”
“If Romano is getting married, it means Rose can go back to New York and you can go back to your life in New York too,” she smiles, anticipating my acceptance of her foolishness, “Especially now with what you did to Paul.”
“You always just come up with new ways to piss me the fuck up,” I fold my arms across my chest, “Why are you trying to get rid of my guest and send me away from my house?”
“I'm not, it's just she no doubt has things she wants to go back to and you surely had a life in New York that you want to return to and,” She shrugs slightly, “Claudio said the clan’s men are not taking the news of Paul’s death lightly. He is working hard to put out the fire.”
I nod, keeping my mood as airy as I can right now. I know she might have good intentions but her intentions are the reason this whole thing with Claudio is fucking messed up in the first place. If she had just allowed things to be, if she had just… Fuck it. She annoys the shit out of me.
“Mother, let's do this,” I inhale sharply, “How about you focus on keeping your fuck buddy satisfied and I take care of my business?”
“You watch the way you talk to me.”
“If you stayed the hell away from me, I wouldn't even need to fucking talk to you,” I scowl at her.
“Have it your way then, bring yourself back to this life that I fought so hard to get you out of,” she gets teary, “I tried Ben, I fucking tried my best to protect you,” her tears slip, “How can you make it all not worth it?” She swipes a tear off her cheek, “How does this mean nothing to you?”
Damn, she looks so frail. So frail I want to hug her and keep her safe. I want to tell her the truth. There was a time when she would have been the first person I would have run to about everything, especially on days when my father was difficult to deal with. Even now I wish I could be open about things with her. Like how this agitation I am experiencing standing a few steps away from Rosaline’s bedroom makes me feel like I had hot lava for breakfast.
But I can't tell her anything or try to bring her to my side. She is on the other side and, for now, it's better that way. I can't have her switching sides now in order not to endanger her.
“If you will excuse me, I'm about to go see someone who doesn't upset me with her existence,” I walk past her to Rosaline’s door and halt when I find the door ajar.
My mother scoffs loudly and takes angry stomping steps down the stairs and back to the arms of the bastard who has his days numbered.
“Rosaline,” I knock on her door, “Are you in there?” I push the door slightly, trying not to go in because I don't know what I could find and her being naked or in her nightwear could makethis end badly quickly, “Are you in the bathroom? I'm coming in,” I walk into her space and I pick up on the sting of emptiness.
