Book two of 'The Vengeance Duology'
Five years ago, the lads and I made the biggest mistake of our lives-a reckless decision that shattered everything.
We destroyed what mattered most, but my deepest regret is how much I hurt her.
Every moment of pa...
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Two weeks. That's how long it's been since Alessio and I had our little... what do you even call it? Escapade? Rendezvous? Absolute disaster disguised as fun? Let's go with the latter. Because if 'rubbing elbows' with Ruben Crosinto wasn't chaotic enough, what came after was a whole new level of insanity.
Nicco's car. His favorite car. The car he worships more than life itself. Yeah... that's where Alessio and I decided to, well, have a little fun. Big mistake. Huge.
The moment we pulled into the private garage, Nicco was already there, arms crossed, murder in his eyes. I barely had time to fix my hair before he was stomping toward us like an angry bull.
"Are you kidding me, Alessio?!" he thundered. I swear, birds flew out of the trees from the sheer volume of his voice. "In my car?! MY FAVORITE CAR?!"
Alessio leaned casually against the door, looking like he didn't have a care in the world. Meanwhile, I was doing my best to look innocent—keyword: trying. Not my fault Nicco has a sixth sense for detecting mischief.
"Relax, Nicco," Alessio said, his voice so calm it was practically a purr. "It's just a car."
Big mistake number two.
Nicco's jaw dropped. "JUST A CAR?! You—" He was so mad he couldn't even finish the sentence. Instead, he turned and pointed a trembling finger at Alessio. "You're cleaning this car. Top. To. Bottom. Right now. And if I find any weird stain, I swear to God—"
"Alright, alright," Alessio cut him off, smirking like the cocky idiot he is. "No need to have a heart attack."
Nicco threw a sponge and a bucket at him with enough force to make me flinch. "You better scrub until I can eat off the seats, Salvatore."
I couldn't stay there any longer. If I did, I'd either burst out laughing or somehow make the situation worse—probably both. So, I left Alessio to deal with my brother's wrath.
Hours later, Alessio showed up at the penthouse. His shirt was damp, clinging to him in all the right places, and his hair was a complete mess. He collapsed onto the couch beside me with an exaggerated groan.
"Your brother is insane," he muttered. "I think he made me clean the car twice just for fun."
I couldn't help but laugh. "You're lucky he didn't strangle you."
He turned to me, that signature smirk playing on his lips. "Would've been worth it."
And just like that, all the tension from earlier was gone. That's the thing about Alessio—he has this infuriating ability to make me forget everything else. Even when Nicco's probably downstairs plotting the most creative revenge imaginable.
Since that night, the rivalry between Nicco and Alessio has only gotten more intense. Honestly, it's like watching two brothers trying to grab the spotlight, each one trying to outshine the other in every way. The bickering is endless, and I'm pretty sure it's all about who can be the most impressive, even if no one's actually winning.
