I slide my hand in my pocket and my fingers brush the hair tie that I’ve never stopped carrying around with me. I pull it out, stare at the sparkly purple color. So like her—vivacious and full of life. And I had sent her away. I am responsible for hurting her again… And after I had sworn that I’d never do anything to harm her. I did the right thing, so why am I still carrying around her hair-tie like a love sick fool?You know why.I slide the hair band back into my pocket.
A slight noise behind me makes me stiffen. The hair on the back on my neck prickles. Every muscle in my body tenses as I force myself to breathe…breathe… I raise my gaze and take in the shadow visible in the glass pane in front. He draws closer…closer… When he reaches for me, I swerve, then turn and grab his outstretched arm, flip him around and lock him in a chokehold.
"Fuck," he swears, "let go of me, youstronzo."
He’s my height, built like me, and wears a tailor-made suit. He also swears in Italian… Fuck. I release him and he spins around to face me.
"The fuck, youpezzo di merda," Christian scowls at me.
"That’s what happens when you sneak up on me, you wanker," I snap.
"I wasn’t sneaking up—"
"You broke into my apartment—"
"The door was open," he points out.
"Fuck." I drag my fingers through my hair. Clearly, I was seriously distracted if I had forgotten to shut and lock the door to my own apartment. "Fucking, fuck." I brush past him and head for the breakfast counter and the bottle of whiskey that I had placed there. I open it, then chug down a mouthful straight from the bottle.
"Classy," Christian murmurs, as I turn to face him.
"The fuck you doing here?" I growl.
"More like, the fuck you doing here?" He slides his hands into his pockets, and goddamn, but his stance is so similar to what mine was just a few seconds ago. A hot sensation stabs at my chest. I raise the bottle to my lips, take another swig of the alcohol.
"You going to share that?" He jerks his chin in my direction.
"No," I say through gritted teeth as the alcohol hits my stomach. Warmth radiates out to my extremities; too bad, my heart is still encased in ice.
He laughs, "Goddamn, but you are stubborn."
"Why did you come here?" I wipe the back of my palm over my mouth.
He widens his stance, "I could say that it’s a social visit, but both you and I would know that I was lying."
I tilt my head.
He moves forward and pauses on the other side of the counter. "What are you doing, Axel?" His blue eyes, almost the same color as mine, meet my gaze.
"What does it look like?" I crack my neck, "I’m living my life."
"Not much of an existence, is it?" He glances around the space, "Is this how you plan to live the rest of your life, alone?"
"It’s how I have lived thus far," I retort.
"Doesn’t mean it has to be this way moving forward."
"So, what, you want me to return to the bosom of the family and embrace my Mafioso roots?"
"I never said that."
"You are beginning to bore me." I pretend to yawn. "If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, get the fuck out." I raise the bottle of whiskey and he swoops out and grabs it. The whiskey spills over my sweatshirt and some of it splashes onto the counter. "Fuck," I swear, "that’s good whiskey, man."
He yanks at the bottle again. I release it and it crashes to the counter. Pieces of glass scatter from the point of impact and crash to the floor.
Anger squeezes my gut and my heart slams into my chest. Adrenaline laces my blood, and with a growl, I throw myself across the counter and at him. He moves aside and the momentum carries me over the counter and toward the floor. I manage to twist my body and hit the floor on my back. The back of my head crashes against the wooden planks and bursts of starlight flash behind my eyes. The just-healed wound at my temple protests, and my stomach churns.
"Fuck." I lay there winded as my asshole triplet stands over me.