Page 3 of Brutal Heir
Barely is a complete exaggeration. She finds reasons to stop by my apartment to check on me almost daily since I moved out. But compared to the two months when I was forced to live with my parents during my recovery, it’s a vast improvement.
“Ma,” I grind out.
“Fine, whatever. Serve your own damned turkey.” She drops the serving utensils with a clatter and the entire left side of the table spins in our direction. My uncle Nico and his wife, Maisie, and their boatload of kids all stare. Only Matteo, my cousin and arguably one of my closest friends, has the decency to keep his eyes down on his plate. He’s used to my outbursts by now. Luckily, the other half of the table, the Valentino sectionalong with the new addition of the Ferrara brothers, misses it, continuing on with their boisterous conversations.
“Everything okay, spitfire?”Papàleans over his plate to glance between my mother and me.
Madips her head, and a sharp pang of guilt streaks across my ruined chest. It isn’t her fault. But that’s the thing about pain, when you’re drowning in it, you’ll claw at anyone who gets close enough to care.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” I grit out before slipping on that practiced mask. My father hasn’t exactly been patient during my convalescence. He’s eager for me to return to work so he can continue grooming his heir.
Even before this happened, I had zero interest in taking the reins at Gemini Corp. Forced into a suffocating suit, sitting behind a massive desk or leading the discussion in a boardroom full of stuffy white-haired men, doesn’t sound even remotely appealing. The Velvet Vault is my one true love. Taking a sip of my tiny allotment of wine, I heave out a breath and stare at the mound of meat, pasta and vegetables. Food I’ll likely never finish. Besides all the muscle tone I’ve lost since being confined to a bed, I’ve also lost my appetite. Though I’m finally able to walk around mostly unassisted, it’s tiring as fuck.
Which is why I’m sitting in this damned wheelchair today.
After firing my last live-in nurse a few days ago, I’ve been getting along just fine. In only a handful of days dragging myself around my penthouse apartment in this wheelchair, my arms feel stronger, the ache from the first couple days already subsiding.
The cute server moves on to my sister, and I can’t help but watch the mesmerizing sway of her hips in that tight black skirt. If this had been a few months ago, I would’ve already had the girl down on her knees in the butler’s pantry.
But now… Pushing down the surge of heat, I suck in a deep breath and shove a forkful of turkey into my mouth. Despite the delicious flavor unfolding on my tongue, it tastes like sand. Just like everything else I try to eat.
“Hey, Ale!” Serena shouts from across the table where she sits beside her fiancé, Antonio Ferrara. “You up for a night out at The Velvet Vault?”
I barely restrain the scowl, forcing my lips to maintain neutral. “Nah, I don’t think so, Sere.” The idea of going tomyclub like this sounds worse than getting blown up all over again.
The Vault. My kingdom. My escape.
Now it’s just another place I’ve been exiled from, another reminder that I don’t belong anywhere. Not in this family, not in my body, not in this fucking chair.
“Aw, come on,” Bella whines from a few seats down, her bodyguard-turned-boyfriend, Raffaele Ferrara, looming over her protectively. She and Serena are cousins on the Valentino side, but they’re more like sisters. Sere is an only child while Bella has one brother, a few years younger than us, Vinny. The girls have been best friends since birth. Luca and Dante, their fathers, respectively, arePapà’s half-brothers. Together they make up the leadership of the most notorious crime syndicate in Manhattan, the Kings. My father and Uncle Nico would disagree, claiming the Geminis with their tie toMa’sorganization, the Four Seas, holds that title. Either way, the Valentinos and Rossis have found their peace and us cousins are thicker than thieves.
The cousin crew, the silly little name Isabella came up with when we were young, holds strong despite the tumultuous relationship of our parents. And before everything went to hell, most weekends were spent in the decadent VIP lounge of my club.
I haven’t been back since the explosion.
As if Serena has read where my dark thoughts have gone, her lips screw into a pout. “Come on, Ale, please?” She still blames herself for what happened. Sure, I’d gone to Milano to save her from a kidnapping, but it wasn’t her fault.
I should have seen that luggage transportation car coming… I should have realized it didn’t belong there. I should have moved quicker.
I relive that morning every fucking night. And every time it ends with the same result. Me, thrown across the tarmac, my entire body lit up in flames. I squeeze my eyes closed to chase away the grisly images, the choking odor of smoke and burning flesh.
“Hey, you still with us?” Alessia snaps her fingers an inch from my nose. Somehow, my twin always knows when I’ve gone to that dark place.
I blink quickly and meet my sister’s wary gaze. The fact that she’s worried for me should worry me. Alessia cares for little more in this life than herself. I’m the little more. Though I’m technically the older brother, by about twenty minutes, since the accident she’s taken on a motherly role I’m fairly certain is completely foreign to her.
Still, she tries…
“We should go,” she whispers. “You can leave your wheels at home. I’ll be with you.”
“I don’t know.”
“When was the last time you got laid?” A mischievous glimmer darkens her pitch orbs.
I grunt on a frustrated exhale. “I am not discussing this with you.”
“I’ll take it that means it’s been a while, and it’s noticeable. You’ve been more intolerable than normal.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure it’s the not-getting-laid thing that’s the problem.”
