Defiant. Sweet. Alluring.
A business deal gone wrong brought me to her doorstep.
She's everything I shouldn't want; everything I was against after watching my mother's obsession destroy her.
Still, I can't stop myself from craving her.
I should know...
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ROSSI RELATIVES LIKED TO SHOW off no matter the given event.
It didn't matter that it was a funeral. Or that said dead man was their cousin five times removed.
I'd seen about five women donning expensive Cartier bracelets and diamond necklaces that cost more than a year's rent in New York, while they wailed loudly over a man they knew next to nothing about.
Especially one who deserved his death.
Of course, not a single tear slipped down their eyes. Whimpers, loud wails, sniffles, and sobs they could do while holding a crumpled Kleenex to their eyes, but they wouldn't be caught dead ruining their flawless make-up.
Papà wasn't a good man, and that was a truth I'd carried with me for years. Perhaps that was why I couldn't manage a single tear at his funeral. Or maybe it was just because I found crying... unnecessary. The deed had already been done. The smartest thing to do was to move on.
I cringed when another loud wail filled the air, this one accompanied by snorts in between. Christ. What was wrong with these women? One would think he was their lover or a close relation. Many of them flew in from Sicily or Naples. I could guarantee that not one of them had sat down to have a conversation with him in the past. They were merely distant, extended relatives.
Deciding she wouldn't be left out of the show, another woman screamed in pain, clutching her chest like someone had dug a knife deep inside it.
I eyed her with irritation. I was leaving this ceremony with a killer headache in my skull, that was for sure.
For a second, I contemplated joining Papà in his coffin just so I could escape the theatrics, but I squashed the thought when I realized I'd have to be within breathing space of him.
Beside me, my youngest brother sat with a bored look on his face, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Same here, brother.
Just like me, Enzo didn't like Papà, but no matter how many times I asked, he never told me why. I eventually gave up on persuading him, because we were in the same boat.
It wasn't until recently that he revealed the truth, and while I wasn't surprised, my hate for Papà had tripled.
In my case, I couldn't tell him even if I wanted to.
I reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly in a silent show of support.
He turned to face me, a slight smile reserved for only family tipping up the corners of his lips. I grinned back at him before placing my head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me, his other hand resting on mine.
To the onlookers, we looked like two grieving siblings, but in reality, we were both relieved he was gone.
As if he'd read my thoughts, Enzo said, "He deserved to die."
