Page 10 of Reign Of Triumph
Early the next morning, I hear the pounding of a fist on our front door. I scurry to grab my robe and rush to open the front door, but by the time I make it to the top of the stairs, Giusto has already let himself in.
“What’s—”
“Fuck you!” Giusto shouts, pointing his finger at me. His face is fierce, his clothes disheveled, and his glassy eyes glare at me angrily.
I gasp. This is bad. Very bad.
I walk down the steps and move into the living room. Mom doesn’t need to see her son this way. Lucky for me, Giusto follows, his footsteps heavy on the floor. As I move past him, I smell the stench of whiskey. He’s been drinking, and in Giusto’s case, that’s never a good thing. Giusto becomes combative and intolerable, even more so than on a normal day.
“Shall I get you some coffee?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant and not like he needs a pot all to himself to sober him up.
“Coffee! Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He grabs my upper arm and turns me to face him. His other hand lands on my other arm, and he drags me up on my tiptoes and begins yelling in my face. “You’re a traitor. You agree to marry the man who’s ruining me, and you offer me coffee? You’re nothing but a whore, selling yourself to the highest bidder,” he shouts. His arms are crushing me, but it’s his words that hurt the most. “You do this, and you’ll never see me or my family again. How the fuck can you choose that asshole over your own flesh and blood? You disgust me!” He pushes me away with such force that I topple back on my heels, barely catching myself before I land on my ass. “What have you got to say for yourself?” he demands, prowling toward me again.
“I’d be happy to talk this out, but clearly, you’re not in the mood to listen, Giusto.” He continues to stalk me. I lift my hand to ward him off. That’s a big mistake, because my engagement ring quickly catches his attention. He grabs my hand and yanks the ring off with such force, pain rips through my finger.
Giusto shoves me up against the wall. “This is how you respect your family? You fucking bitch. I should have married you off years ago to Michele Torturo. He’s an old bastard and a kinky fuck. Offered me plenty to hand over my sweet, virginal sister. I would have made a killing with Torturo in my corner. The only reason I didn’t was that Mom needed a nurse. I should have put her in a home and not given a damn about what people thought.” His voice is harsh as he spits out his words. “Maybe Eros won’t find his fiancée on his next visit,” he threatens, closing his hand around my neck and squeezing.
I can’t breathe. I claw at his hand to no avail. My own brother is going to kill me. Suddenly, he removes his hand, and I slump to the floor, gasping for air. I land hard on the floor, my face slamming against it. His shiny black leather Armani shoe connects with my side, and I scream out in pain. Giusto continues to rant, hurling threats. He does this again and again, until I can hear my mother shouting for him to stop and trying to pull him back. Giusto swats at my mother, pushing her away as if she were a fly, and glares at both of us. “Fuck you both!” he grits out. His hand fisted tightly around my ring, he proceeds to the terrace door and flings the ring far into the yard, then walks back to me. Mom is on her knees to help me, but I move as best I can to put myself between Mom and Giusto. I expect him to resume his attack, but instead he spits on the floor, turns on his heel, and stomps out of the house, slamming the front door loudly.
“Bella, we need to get you up and into a chair,” my mother says as she gently brushes my hair away from my face. “Can you get up?” she asks. There’s no way Mom can help me to my feet, and I can’t seem to summon the strength or energy to do it on my own.
“I need a couple of minutes, Mom,” I manage to say, every word labored; my ribs hurt, making me wonder if I need a doctor.
“We need help,” Mom decides. She gets to her feet and leaves the room before returning with her phone. Before I can ask who she intends to call, Mom speaks into it. “Marco, Serafina is hurt. Please send a doctor.” Her voice is trembling, her hands shaking. Marco must realize Mom is shaken up, because I hear her say, “I can stay on the line.” Mom takes a throw blanket from the ottoman and comes back to me, sitting beside me before throwing the blanket over both of us and continuing to hold the phone to her ear. “I’m sorry, Marco. I didn’t know who else to call.” Marco is speaking softly to her. I allow myself to close my eyes, knowing that help is on the way.
Eros
“Serafina’s in trouble,” Luciano says as soon as I take his call, not waiting for me to say hello. He keeps going, “Doctor’s on his way. Her mother’s in a state.”
I push my chair back from the kitchen table. “What the fuck happened?”
By this point, my parents are staring at me with concerned expressions. “What’s wrong?” Dad asks, but I’m too focused on Luciano to respond.
“Don’t know. Marco is keeping Vera on the phone until one of us gets there. I’m on my way,” Luciano says.
“Me too. I’ll be there in ten,” I answer and hang up. “Something’s happened to Serafina. I’ve got to go. Vera’s really upset.”
“I’m coming too,” Mom says.
“Mom—”
“Vera needs someone,” Mom insists, and looks around for her purse.
“We’ll all go,” my father says, taking my mother by the hand and giving me a shove toward the door.
By the time we arrive, I see two other cars in the driveway. One I recognize as Luciano’s; the other is a mystery. I leave my father to escort my mother in while I race through the front door, calling out for Serafina.
“She’s in here,” Luciano responds. I follow his voice to the living room and see Serafina on the couch with the doctor next to her.
“She needs X-rays. I want to be sure there’re no broken bones or internal bleeding,” the doctor says as I come into the room.
“Please don’t move me again. It hurts,” Serafina whimpers as the doctor presses gently with his hand along her ribs. I rush to her side, coming down on one knee. That’s when I notice the redness on her cheek, and as my gaze moves over her, I see the redness around her neck. I’m overwhelmed by the urge to hunt down whoever did this to Serafina and dissect them piece by piece.
I curb my rage and caress her hair. “Baby, we must get you checked out properly.”
“Mom can’t?—”
“No worries, cara,” my mother interjects. “Armando and I will stay with your mother. She’ll be fine.”
