Page 29 of Bittersweet Endings
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My brothers and I piled into the car heading back to my penthouse in LA. Matteo was on the phone with Eva. She wanted to come home, but now wasn’t the time.
Not long after that, we were jumping out and making our way inside. The receptionist stopped me. “Sir, there is a woman upstairs waiting for you. She was cleared by one of your men.”
My dick got hard picturing my little doll.
I drew my gun, nodding at my men when we got off the elevator. No one said a word as I stormed inside. But my excitement was quickly doused when I saw who was staring back at me.
Placing her book on her lap, she smiled and patted the sofa like she didn’t see the gun in my hand. She’d never been the best mother, allowing her husband to raise us with bloody fists. But she was still family.
“My boys.” She smiled softly. “No Eva? I haven’t seen her in months.” Her feigned concern was baffling. It was also award-worthy.
“Where is he, Ma?” I demanded, because I knew she had to know.
“Now, now, no pleasantries, Carmine?” she purred, her voice thick and fake. Then, she rolled her eyes, slow and deliberate, and for the first time in my life, I had therealurge to wrap myhands around her dainty throat. To squeeze until that smug look was wiped off her face. “He’s been around,” she went on, her lips curling like the words bored her. “You know how he is—always busy, always working. Still working hard for this family, even after you spat in his face overthatAgostino girl.” Her mouth twisted on the name. Like it was filth.
Lorenzo and Matteo both stiffened. None of us had ever heard her speak like that, especially not tous. She’d always played the polished matriarch, turning a blind eye to JP’s methods, pretending to love us while he trained us like soldiers about to go to war.
And Eva? He barely spared her a glance while he treated us like fucking dogs. Broken ribs. Black eyes. Split lips. And this bitch would just sip her champagne and laugh.
Boys will be boys,she’d say if anyone ever asked about the marks on our bodies.
My scowl deepened, my voice low enough to chill the marrow in her bones. “Watch it, Mother.”
She arched a brow, like I was the one being disrespectful. And then, she saw the real me too.
“I’ve always used caution with you. Out ofrespect.But push again, and you’ll meet the monster your husband created.”
Her lips snapped shut. The air around her changed—just a touch at first—but I saw it. She tensed like a deer sensing danger, the hunter closing in. She knew exactly what her husband had done, the monster he’d created, and that I was no longer afraid to wear the title.
Still, she gave usnothing.Every word she spoke was vague, deflective, deliberate. The man was obsessive. About power, about control, abouther. And still, she claimed she knew nothing.
“I’ll be seeing him soon,” she said, her voice soft but hereyes sharp. “New York gala. He’ll be there. With me.” A pause. “Figured you’d want to know… before things change and you can’t get a ticket.”
That cold smirk was back on her lips, like she’d won something. But she hadn’t. Not yet.
How had I never seen it before? She wasn’t a mother. She was just as crazy as the fucker she married.
“It’s a fundraiser for a women’s shelter,” she continued, smiling like it amused her. “Tragic place. So much pain, so little progress. Even with Isabella Agostino’s name attached, it’s still floundering.” She sipped her drink, her nails tapping her book like a countdown.
My blood was boiling with the knowledge he was already in New York. Hadn’t left since the club.
“Of course, it’ll takerealpower—a stronger name—to make it respectable. Mine.”
Same east versus west bullshit in designer heels. We were raised on pride, lies, and silence.
“Now,” she purred, smiling coldly. “When are you boys making me a grandmother? Especially you, Carmine.”
“Enough, Ma,” Lorenzo growled, while Matteo stood silently.
She turned to me. “Don’t chase east coast trash. The west is your blood. Find a proper girl, settle down, and your father will welcome you back, arms wide, like you’ve always begged him to do.”
“There’s never been peace between us,” I grunted. “And when the fuck have I begged him for anything?”
She laughed. “He made you strong. Loyal. Built for this family. And the second you taste freedom, you spit in his face.” Her eyes iced over. “You knew what she was—a message, a sacrifice. And still, you threw it all away. For what? Sex? Yourfather’s tired of your defiance.” My mother leaned forward, her voice dropping like poison into a wound. “For someone who’s spent half his life swearing vengeance for Sal, you’ve forgotten him awfully quick. That’s why I call her awitch. She’s ensnared my son. Twisted your mind.”
I stood. Rage had my fists clenched before my brain caught up.
