Consumed By temptation Of Chaos

Chapter; nine

— Isabella Vitiello

I watched a small drop of water trace a slow, cascading path down the windowpane. Outside, a thin layer of rain fell over the city. The weatherman had advised everyone to wear coats and carry umbrellas before leaving home, New York would be pleasantly damp today. I was sprawled across the couch beside Mom. Dad was at the Sphere with Uncle Luca, Amo, and Maddox, handling issues with a few men who had been causing trouble and discussing possible new strategies things I preferred not to know too much about.

Mom let out a soft grunt as she flipped through this week's magazine. Her legs were crossed in the air, black leather boots swaying lazily. Our unfinished chess game rested on the table in front of us. I nibbled on my sandwich, now cold, and checked my messages.There was a photo from Valerio — the kind that made me roll my eyes the second I opened it.

Dad asking if I wanted something different for dinner. Sienna sending me the link to her new weekly playlist, the one she'd had on repeat lately. Greta confirming whether I'd be at her ballet performance, she was beyond anxious about the preparations. And my cousin Sara inviting me to spend tomorrow together.

I replied to everyone and went back to my chess game with Mom after finishing the sandwich.

"Would you forgive me if I said I need to stop by the gym? There's a small issue with the new equipment," Mom sighed, locking her phone its case covered in tiny skulls. "I know I promised we'd spend the afternoon with our legs up, gossiping and playing chess, but adulthood's calling, and it sucks." She gave me a tight smile.

"It's okay. It wouldn't be fair to let Cara deal with it alone. And honestly, I wanted to see Flavio anyway. He's trying to rebuild that old Mustang and asked to steal me for company."

She smiled gratefully and tied her long, flame-colored hair into a ponytail.
Mom grabbed her red leather jacket and slipped it on, reaching for her car keys. I threw on one of Dad's jackets too big on me, but warm and comforting. As we stepped out of the penthouse, our security followed at the careful distance Mom always insisted on.

I fixed a few loose strands that had escaped my messy bun and wrapped my arms around myself while watching our reflection in the elevator mirror. The similarity — slash difference — between my mother and me was almost amusing. We shared nearly the same features, yet carried them in completely different ways.

Where her hair was fiery and impossible not to notice, mine was a darker red, almost brown, falling in a cascade with barely-there curls. Her blue eyes, bright as the sky, were framed with black eyeliner and shadow. Mine, a deeper shade of blue, carried nothing but a touch of mascara and whatever nature had given me. Mom wore a black jumpsuit with a slight opening at the neckline that made her curves impossible to ignore, paired with black leather boots and her blood-red jacket. I wore light-wash jeans with tiny star details, a blue crop top, Dad's oversized jacket, and Converse.

The elevator doors opened and Vitto stepped out first like an escort, which made Mom roll her eyes. We got into her Mini Cooper, Vitto following behind us in his own car.

The drive to the Cancio house was pleasant. We blasted music and sang at the top of our lungs until the small brick road leading to my aunt and uncle's cozy house came into view.

"See you later," she said, placing two kisses on my cheeks.
I waved as her tires screeched softly against the wet pavement. I wiped my hands on my jeans before ringing the doorbell. Flavio had probably already seen me through the security cameras. It didn't take long for my cousin to appear at the door with that effortless grin of his.