Killed On Purpose

10

Willa

"I didn't tell you our life story, Willa, to get pity from you," Silvio had said after that info dump when I tried to find the right words to comfort him. Was comfort even needed? It had happened years ago. Everything that could've consolated them then probably did and I didn't have anything new to bring to the table except my teary eyes.

I was a sympathetic crier.

An hour had passed since Silvio had said that to me so instead of showing him the pity he hated I stayed silent and focused on making us some breakfast. I picked the most time-consuming recipe I knew—blueberry pancakes—just so I could disappear into the kitchen and be away from him for a little while.

Unfortunately, my first few pancakes turned out to be undercooked and the next couple of ones were so burned that Gordon Ramsey would've compared them to Mary Winchester.

"You're still bad at cooking," I heard Silvio's voice behind me after maybe half an hour of being alone in the kitchen. He wasn't surprised. If anything else, he just stated it as a fact.

"Your point?" I retorted back, a little offended by his snippy statement, and pointed the spatula at him to not say anything stupid next.

Silvio chuckled and shook his head. "No point."

I turned around to flip the remaining pancakes only to find them almost scorched. I cursed and began taking them out of the pan and into the plate with the other burnt ones, but before I could pour new ones, Silvio stood behind me and reached for the switch to the burner. After turning it off, he picked up the pan and put it aside.

His actions added to the annoyance I already felt and I turned around to face him, hands on my hips and a scowl on my face. Instead of apologizing for interrupting my cooking, Silvio awarded me with an amused chuckle.

"Stop pouting," he said and began cleaning my face which probably had some flour with the nearby towel. "We'll go out and get some breakfast. I'm not risking our lives for some pancakes."

Oh, this man...

I snatched the towel from him and smacked his chest a couple of times with the fabric. "Stop making fun of me, you dick,"

Instead of getting mad about being called a dick, he chuckled darkly, shook his head and swung my body over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

A shriek left my lips and I couldn't even ask what he was trying to do except stare at his glorious ass, but then I heard the bathroom door squeak open and saw the dark grey tiles beneath us. Silvio carefully set me upright and plopped me on the marble counter near the sink.

"Silvio, why did you bring me to the bathroom?"

"You need a shower. You have pancake batter in your hair," he chuckled, finding it amusing, but I instantly felt my cheeks heat up. "After that, we can get some breakfast and talk to Lazzaro's lawyer."

The bare mention of his name retrieved the heaviness I felt a few hours ago that somehow eased when Silvio arrived. Worry crept up in my heart again and I saw the same in Silvio's eyes. He loosened a bit, too, after coming here. I guess we got caught up in our presence to allow reality kickback.

"He'll be fine, don't worry." the whisper he uttered combined with the soft touch he used to put a strand of my hair away from my eyes and behind my ear made me shiver and sigh at the same time.

I was conflicted.

I was so damn worried about Lazzaro, but at the same time, I was furious with him. I wanted to yell my vocal cords out to him about how he could've kept this a secret and how he could've blamed Silvio for his line of work when Lazzaro had done the same at some point in time, defensive or not. Then again, murder is not something you thread lightly. Even I can't guarantee that I wouldn't have panicked and even tried going to the police if he ever confessed something like that.