Chapter Nineteen

Bruno

"Where the hell is Raphael?" Fabricio says he has been calling him since 6 am, and his phone is off. His phone is never off! I thought he was with you! Bruno urgently asked Romano, who was lounging on one of the kitchen chairs, working on a laptop.

"He hasn't woken up yet! " Romano smiled slyly, his stubble making him look ridiculous dashing.

"What do you mean he hasn't woken up yet? It's almost 9 am Rom; he doesn't sleep that long; hell, the guy has a permanent case of insomnia. I was panicking now because I understood the ramifications of a missing Raphael. It would mean a war that no one would win.

"Relax. He is with Sophie," he smirked, playfully pulling me out of my anxiety. If Raph were missing, Romano would be behaving exactly as I was, not this calm and collected.

I exhaled loudly, pulling the chair beside him.

"What are you working on?" My voice was still scratchy, my mouth dry, making me feel like I had run a million miles without water.

I looked up, and my eyes met with him, giving me a peculiar look.

"What? "

He made a motion of sizing me up.

I looked down at myself, noticing for the first time since hurrying down here that I had surprisingly forgotten to wear shoes in my haste.

Part of my shirt was tucked in; the other part just hanged careless on unbuckled pants. I was a mess.

Damn it! I stood and turned to go back to my room.

"Were you scared, angry, sad, or vengeful?" Romano asked, bemused.

"All of those, I guess." I looked at him, my eyes glancing around, lost in thought, standing on that first stair, letting myself think about what we do.

"Do you think we are like stepmothers?" I asked Romano, whose eyebrows went up, so first, it was comical.

"I mean, we kill without a second thought. Yet when I thought Raph was missing, the grief I felt was indescribable. Sad at the same time, vengeful and downright destructive.

"How the hell is that like a stepmother? " he asked, puzzled, his leg closing on his kneel and arms on the chest.

"They love their own children more and mistreat others. At least that's what I hear." He continued to stare at me, his gaze devoid of any understanding of what I was trying to say.

"You know what I mean. Apparently, I don't have any qualm killing everybody else, but I strongly oppose, disagree with anyone returning the favor to my family!"

Romano chuckled, squinting at me like I was his source of comic relief.

"I hate to break it to you, B, but you're not a woman, and Raphael is definitely not your son."

"Don't be deliberately obtuse! You know what I mean!"

He leaned back on the chair, deliberately rubbed his stubble, a mocking smile on his face.

"Step-mothers don't kill their stepchildren; they mistreat them. So. No. I do not know what you mean." His voice held a fake appalling sound. Like what I had said was so ridiculous he wanted no part of it.

"That is a terrible analogy," he finally said

"How do you know it's a bad analogy if you don't know what I meant? "

He shrugged and started tapping his chin. Giving the impression that he was deep in thought.

Bastard! I thought.

Well, do you have a better one?" my voice was full of indignation, my hands in the pocket waiting.

"Nope! Ask me next month," And he turned back to his laptop, though I still saw a slight smile on his lips, pretty sure still laughing at my analogy.

Bastard I breathed

"I heard that."

"You were meant to," I shouted, taking a curve back to my bedroom. I needed a bath and a change of clothes.

My world was alright. I can relax. And get ready to annoy Raphael for scaring the shit out of me.

Raphael.

Who the hell was that knocking on my door at this hour?

Ignoring it, I pulled the duvet closer, but I was already warm and way too comfortable. Damn it, I wasn't alone! Where the hell was I?

Two things happened simultaneously; I remembered I was in bed with Sophie and that whoever was at my door was a persistent S. O. B.

Opening my eyes, I saw Sophie's face was directly to mine. She looked beautiful. One of her hands was tacked under the pillow and her hair spreading on the same. This, her in my bed. In my house, where no other woman had stayed before, was an image I had in mind from the moment I saw her.

She fits perfectly with me. I thought. Sleeping on my side of the bed, her legs entangled to mine. Gazing at her, I realized I had slept with a woman the whole night.

Yes, I have had women, mostly whores, and strippers, but their relation to me was very basic. Sophie was the first woman with whom I had shared a bed without sex.

Another tap on the door knocked me out of my daze.

That must be Bruno. He was the only one with the audacity to tap on my door continuously, the patience to annoy me, and the conviction that nothing I could do about it.

I also knew nothing was wrong because he would have already broken down the door.

What the hell is so important that Bruno can't wait for me to wake up? And why was he awake? Before me, no less.

Reluctantly, I forced myself out of bed. Without a shirt, no shoes, and my hair out of place. I pulled the door open to find Bruno's smiling like the proverbial Cheshire cat.

He was already dressed for the day, which was puzzling. He is always the last one to wake up, and therefore the last to get ready.

"What?"

"It's almost 10 am."

"No, it's not! And why didn't you call me instead of annoyingly knocking on my door?"

"Your phone is off."

"No, it's not! "

"Yes, it is! Is this a game? Cos' you know I have the patience to do this all day.

"You're such a child sometimes. What do you want? "

"Fabricio has been calling you since six; he says he found a way to keep the underaged girls employed."

"That was first. I'm impressed. You really weren't kidding when you said my phone was off. I must have forgotten to charge it. Tell him I'll see him in the afternoon."

I was about to close the door when something hit me.

"Wait up. I know you well enough to understand that you woke me up intending to annoy me for some reason. What did I do? "

Bruno sized him up, a serious look on his face.

"I also know you well enough to understand you've never spent the whole night with a woman or slept until ten in the morning. You have also been annoyingly a morning person. Now suddenly, that has changed. Why do you think that is? "

He had that annoying smirk on his face, looking like he was privy to one of my innermost secrets.

"Bastard! I whispered, banging the door to his face.

"I heard that"

"You were meant to!"

I turned around to find Sophie sitting on the bed. Her hair out of place; she looked adorable in the morning.

"Buongiorno cara."

"What does that mean," she asked shyly.

"It means good morning. Maybe I should teach you Italian." I smiled at her, pushing her tangled mane of red hair away from her face, remembering the reason she was in my bed—her nightmare.

"Wanna talk about your nightmare?"

For a moment, she stared at me as if trying to work out something. Then she shook her head. Those pretty eyes slid from my bare shoulders to my abdomen and down to the---

"Oh," she enunciated. Her embarrassment was so adorable I laughed.

She quickly got up, heading to her bedroom, but I waylaid her. Holding her to the door.

"Sorry, I laughed," I said as I laced my fingers through hers. She smelled wonderful in the morning, or maybe I was just whipped.

Damn it, I'm whipped!

I stretched her arms high, overboard, and lowered my mouth to hers. I kissed her for what seemed like an eternity, my mouth dancing on hers. She made me so damn hot; I was afraid to burn.

"Sophie," I whispered softly; her name was special and beautiful.

"Sophie," I said again in an aching whisper. I couldn't help it. Her name was like a song in my mouth.

I kissed her until I heard my own groan.

I have to stop this before I lose control of my mind.

Releasing her hands, I took a step back. But she immediately stood on her tiptoe, slid her arms around my neck, and hugged me. She hugged me so tight I was afraid to crush her.

Then she holds loosed a bit, kissing me where the indentation of my jaw met my throat. It was so potently beautiful. I will remember it for the rest of my life.

"What the hell are you doing to me?"

My voice was rough, and I gave a ragged laugh scooping her by the waist until we were on the same eye level.

Her eyes were full of curiosity, lust, and a delightful blush. I imagined mine showed pure, undiluted lust.

"You're so beautiful," she mumbled. I could feel her warmth on my shoulders.

"You're the beautiful one. A man cannot be beautiful!" I exclaimed, giving her a fake horrified look, but my heart was pounding in the pleasure of those words. I was sure she could hear it.

"I have to go to work," I whispered to her ears. Our foreheads touching, her arms on my shoulders, and I still held her by the waist.

"Okay," she whispered back. "You have to put me down, though," she chuckled—a soft, sexy, almost flirty chuckle.

I let her slid down my body, opened the door for her. But she lingered, then turned her face around and gave me one smile before she left.

My body felt heavy as I leaned against the same door I had backed her on, running my hands through my hair.

Time for a cold shower.