His Identity

23

Ryver locks the door behind. "It's soundproof," he clicks his tongue, "perfect."

Paulo stills in his seat. His hand goes to the phone resting on his table and I'm quick to grab it, tossing it across the room. "My bad, it slipped."

He narrows his eyes at me, his nostrils flare, "what the hell do you think you're doing? Why are you here?"

"Why do you think?" I ask back, taking slow steps towards his chair. I circle the table, dragging my fingers on the wooden table, knocking his pen holder and other things that were in my way on the ground. He glares at me.

Mess is one thing I know Paulo hates. He hates it when things aren't in their correct place. He despises it when something's not clean. Apparently, Ryver is aware of that as well since he goes straight towards his shelf where Paulo kept his folders on and simply begins throwing one by one on the ground, walking on them, tearing them.

I smirk when Paulo growls and tries to stand up. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I push him back down, "don't make that sound again. It doesn't sound as threatening as you'd like it to be."

"What the fuck is going on?" He asks, keeping up with the dumb act, his grip was tight on the arms of his chair.

I roll my eyes, scoffing, "you really want me to answer that? You know damn well what the fuck's going on."

"I don't," he shoots me a glare, visibly wincing when I swipe the rest of the stuff on his table away, his laptop among other shit fell on the ground with a loud clatter. He tries to stand up again but my hand which is still on his shoulder holds him back down.

"Why did you do it?"

"Why did I do what?" He asks back, narrowing his eyes in confusion which I know is fake as fuck.

"Eli," her name leaves my lips in an almost breathless whisper. It feels wrong to say her name in his presence. I clench my jaw when his lips twitches. "Why can't you let bygones be bygones, Nick? It happened years ago."

I hate how he's not denying it. His death is going to be so fucking long and painful. He's going to wish he never married into this family. I'm going to make him regret breathing.

"Get over it," he adds, giving me a simple shrug, "if you haven't yet, you will."

I try not to slam his head into the table. "Why did you do it? What has she ever done to you? She was a child!"

"She was never the problem," he gritted his teeth as he looked up at me with an indescribable amount of newfound hatred and anger in his eyes, "it's your parents and you."

"Why?" I try to keep my emotions at bay. Hitting him now isn't going to be useful. I appreciate Ryver for staying quiet and watching. He has allowed himself to sit on the couch in the back, his legs crossed as he stares.

"The only reason I ever married Arabella was to become the Italian Mafia Leader," he reveals and I'm not surprised. I don't know why but I'm not. "But that dumb piece of shit didn't want it. Instead, it went to Enzo. At first I was pissed but then I was like it's alright, I just need children then they'll take over when they're of proper age. At least I'll have some sort of power. I was happy when the twins were born. I had hope. But no. Your stupid mother had to come along and years later, you. All my hopes went flying out of the window. I was enraged."