Page 33 of Driftwood Daffodil 2

“You sure you want to do this, Little Brother?”

Why did he keep calling me that?

“Yes.” I’d never been more sure of anything in my life.

“There are other rooms closer to yours.”

Why the fuck would I want Novalee closer to me?

I once again brushed my thumb over the mark in the wall. “I want her right here.”

When Novalee was in this house, she would sleep in this room, where what remained of my brother’s essence lived. I wanted her to feel Atlas watching when she closed her eyes, and wake to the smell of his cologne.

But mostly, I wanted Atlas to hear every time I made her cry. And when I did decide to fuck her, his ghost could watch and know he was being avenged.

This was the only room in the house that was right.

“We’re going to have to get everything rearranged.”

“I don’t care what you do,” I said and tipped my chin at the spot where Atlas’s bed used to be. “As long as the bed goes over there.”

“Alright.” Romeo shook his head and sighed, “You’re a twisted man, Little Brother.”

He was one to talk. At least my fucktoys didn’t end up with permanent scars. Well, except for Nova. I was going to mark the shit out of her. I had half a mind to fill Atlee in on my brother’s whip and knife fetish. Let’s see how happy he was about his sister’s arranged marriage then.

But that would just get Atlee hurt. Romeo was a dick, but he was lethal. I’d give him that much. There was a reason he took theOmertaat such a young age.

“Why are you here, Romeo?”

I hated seeing him in this room. This was Atlas’s space, and he was tainting it.

The lit cigarette in Romeo’s hand lifted in a point directed at me. “Atlas, was my brother too.”

“You sure don’t act like it.” A true brother would’ve at least shown up at the funeral.

“I said he was my brother. Not that I liked him.”

“Is that why you didn’t care enough to help us bury him?”

“I wasn’t therebecauseI cared.” His eyes squinted as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled. “I didn’t want to disrupt your mourning.”

He didn’t want to disrupt my mourning? What kind of bullshit was that?

“Whatever, Romeo.”

His statement just reaffirmed that the wrong brother was laying in the ground.

“I think Atlas’s death has clouded your memory.” Romeo took a sip of his drink and leaned back against the bookshelf. “He wasn’t a good man, and he sure as fuck wasn’t a good brother.”

I snorted. “You’re one to talk.”

“I’d die for you, Little Brother.” He cocked a brow my way. “Would Atlas?”

Of course he would. There was no doubt in my mind about that. Besides, I wasn’t having this argument. Not with Romeo. And certainly not while he was fouling Atlas’s room with his presence. Every fiber of my being wanted to shove him out the door, but I ignored that urge and focused on the mark in the wall instead.

A task that would’ve been easier if Romeo kept his mouth shut.

“He raped that girl, Gio.”

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