Diavolo

xxii

SILVIO

        I sat on the large armchair surrounded by the members of the Famigilia—the ones that'd been here since Octavius' father was the Don and that meant they watched me with scrutiny and thought me unfit for the role.

        Lucky for them, I never gave a damn what anyone thought of me. If I did, I might as well have fucking handed the role to Roberto.

        There was an unlit cigarette in the corner of my mouth, my gaze unexplainably trained on my phone as I listened to the matters of floating through the room.

      I was never really anything of a smoker, I went through weeks without smoking a cigar before I met her and now lately, It'd became a source of comfort.

        I didn't especially like the act of going through packets of cigarettes, but I was becoming antsy over the last few weeks with my girlfriend or fiancé's to be new taste for karma.

        She tolerated my presence in the apartment whenever I was around and I tried my best to stay away from her. Even if it physically ached me to do so.

        We kept up the steady appearances for her safety, holding hands in public whenever our schedules aligned for a photo op. She resumed to work like usual throwing herself into her career, spending the weekends with Finley with Tommaso watching over her.

        The little time I caught glimpses of her were during our quick photo ops and often in the morning when she was rushing to work. Even then she barely paid me a glance and when our eyes did look, all I saw was contempt.

        I knew I deserved it, but I hadn't expected the lack of attention from her to burn a hole into my godforsaken heart.

        "How's your little mistress?" Roberto asked all of a sudden in the midst of a conversation about the finances. The room seemed a little dimmer, the chatter quieted down and stilled while all eyes narrowed towards me.

        Glancing from the glare of my phone, I casted an unimpressed look towards him almost daring for him to repeat the word. "I assume you don't plan on marrying that girl, do you?"

        I flicked the lighter in my hands, on and off, on and off attempting to push through the stormy mood raining inside of me. "Come again?"

        He cleared his throat and adjusted the soft gray tie around his neck; The room was eerily silent almost watching for my next move.

        I didn't bother correcting him about the marriage because I thought he possessed some sort of brain but it was clear to me as day that the man was a walking fool. "I'm saying—"

        "I know what the hell you're saying, Roberto." I flicked the lighter on and a tiny flame burst to life and spurred the tail of my cigarette into a bright hue of vibrant orange and dark red.

        "Just want to make sure I didn't hear you calling my girlfriend a mistress because I would be offended and you don't want me to be offended, do you?"

        "No." He paled and a smile touched the edge of my lips, a spark of intrigue filled me much like the faint redness oozing around the mouth of my cigar. "But..." He paused.

        I raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

        "My daughter would have made a far better match especially considering her background." I glanced at my phone almost like the constant attention to it would spur a text from the woman who hadn't left my thoughts since the moment we met.