Stepbrother | ✔︎

10 | rantipole

Rantipole [ ran-ti-pole ]
n. A wild, reckless young person

I watched as my mothers eyes wandered down to my bloody fist. It also didn't go unnoticed by me when Angelo had this mischievous glint in his eye as he looked between Vincenzo and I. "One of the best days I've ever experienced!" I exclaimed in fake sarcasm.

Angelo raised one of his brows at me before looking over at Vincenzo. My eyes trailed up to look at him seeing as everyone always seemed to be so patient to see what he had to say. "It was controlled," he spoke in such an authoritative manner. It almost made me want to cower away in fear.

"Was it? You were there to make sure there would be no drawn attention, yet you managed to drag us deeper into bullsh*t, Vincenzo!" Angelo yelled out angrily, yet calmly. It was strange the way these men spoke around here; everything they said was calm no matter the tone. There was no word to exactly describe it, but hearing them speak made it make sense.

"No, I was there to protect her, not you and your name. Be careful who you're talking to, Angelo, ricorda, ti possiedo. Provaci ancora," he angrily seethed out taking a step closer to his father. Angelo narrowed his eyes into slits as he looked at Vincenzo.
[ translation : remember, i own you. try again ]

Their stare down lasted a good twenty seconds before Angelo looked over at me and then at my fist. "Based on your bloody fist and your untouched face, I'd assume you won, yes?" He asked with a smirk playing out on his lips.

That was the most bipolar thing I've ever witnessed. Instead of mentioning it due to the tension that swam around in the air, I nodded my head slowly.

"My anger got the best of me," I said as I raised up my fist. It was still clenched, whenever I unclenched it, pain would arise. So, I left it balled up and by my side.

"Please, let me help you with that," Angelo spoke with a grin before walking up to me and grabbing ahold of my hand.

"I got it," Vincenzo said, grabbing ahold of my waist; keeping me secured by him.

"I said I'll help her," Angelo said once again. Reluctantly, Vincenzo let go, but I could feel his anger radiating off of him in waves.

Angelo grabbed ahold of my arm and softly pointed me in the direction to what looked like a medical room. The room wasn't that far of a walk, literally the closest door to where we were standing.

He sat me down on a chair before turning around and grabbing a gauze, tape, and other supplies.

"What exactly happened, Orabella?" He asked in that smooth tone that I'm sure usually worked on others. One good thing is that I'm not "others" and he knew that. I watched him, and he slowly unclenched my fists. I sucked in a breath through tightly clenched teeth as he laid my hand flat on the small table in front of me.

"You know, girl problems," I muttered as he walked over and wet a towel. When he returned, he started to softly clean the blood around my wound. He smiled at my answer without looking at me, his attention only remained on the task.

"Girl problems? I'd actually believe that only if I wasn't cleaning the most bloodiest hand I've ever seen," he stated.

My eyes wandered down to my hand again, and for some reason a sense of proud fluttered into me. "Most bloodiest?" I asked with a smirk playing out on my face.

He chuckled before nodding his head. The more blood he wiped off the less terrible that it looked. I'm not sure if the blood was from me, or from her. It could've been the both of us, but it was I who had done the damage. My smirk turned into a smile at the realization that I actually just beat up the most popular girl in school.