Page 57 of Pocketful of Us

Sketch and Romi had been separated by the guards and every time one of them put a hand on her, Sketch snarled like a ferocious lion protecting his lioness. He looked truly livid as he tried and failed to break free from the four men holding him back from her.

"She's pregnant, you fucking cunt!" Sketch roared when one of the goons shoved Romi so hard that she fell forward, landing roughly on her knees. "Ro, baby –"

"I'm okay, Sketch," Romi croaked out, staggering back to her feet.

"Touch her again and I'll slit your throat. Do you hear me? I will gut you like a fucking pig!"

"You'll do nothing of the sort, Giacobbe," Seth chuckled darkly. "Because we have your beating heart walking around outside of your body in the form of my sister. One wrong move and she will suffer."

A truly feral roar of pure anguish ripped from Sketch's throat and I had to turn my head away. I couldn’t look at the pain in his eyes. It was bad enough that I had to hear it.

"Why are you doing this?" I demanded then. "Helping Cal? He's a piece of shit, Seth. You know this. For Christ's sake, he killed your mother –"

"On whose orders?" Seth hissed. "Who ordered him to kill my mother?"

"He had a choice," Romi was the one to respond and her voice was laced with venom. "He could have let us all walk free. You, me, and our mother. He didn’t. He chose himself, Seth. Our father willalwayschoose himself."

"Then he and I have that in common," Seth sneered. "Now, keep walking."

"Fuck you," Sketch hissed, resulting in both him and Romi getting shoved and pushed around by the guards.

"Not him," Seth commanded, when one of the guards grabbed the back of my neck. Pointing right at me, he growled, "Any man that puts his hands on this one will be skinned alive."

I gaped at him, stunned by his possessiveness.

Seth winked back at me.

Well.

Alrighty.

Then.

26

Romi

"Ah, our final guests have arrived," my father declared in feigned cheeriness when we stepped inside the great room. I called it the great room because it was the biggest room in the house, and was always used when Daddy threw balls or dinner parties. "I can't tell you how wonderful it is to see both of my children in one place without a gun pressed to their heads," he added. "Well, without a gun to my son's head, at least." His eyes flicked to me. "Sweet pea, you are simply glowing. Pregnancy clearly agrees with you. Too bad it doesn’t work for me."

"Touch her and I'll fucking kill you!" Sketch roared from the other side of the room, where the men had taken him to keep us apart. Presley had been ordered to the corner, and I had been left in the middle of the room with my so-called twin. "Do you hear me, asshole?" he continued to roar. "Lay one finger on her, and I will fuck you the hell up!"

"Yes, we all hear you, Giacobbe," Seth drawled in a bored tone. "Smoke and mirrors."

"To you, maybe."

"You're not having her back."

"Then you might as well kill me now, because that's the only way you'll keep me away from her," Sketch roared. "So just do it already!

"Sketch, no!"

"Giacobbe," my father stated and I could hear the hatred in his voice. His eyes were poisoned orbs of venom and directed entirely at Sketch. "I have a special gift for you. Or should I say, a special game for us to play."

"Fuck. You." Sketch countered, enunciating each word before hacking up a phlegm ball and spitting it in my father's direction. "No good piece of shit."

One of my father's guards rewarded Sketch by cracking him on the side of his head with his gun.

"Don't!" I screamed, terror filling my chest when blood immediately began to trickle down the side of his face. "Sketch!"

---