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Chapter 4

A L E X

She is here.

Fuck.

That was her. That was definitely her.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I stare at the now closed window. This morning is going wrong in all possible ways. The watch on my wrist pings informing me about a new mail, mostly from Lizzy about the land deal I told her to close last night but suddenly it is not that important anymore. Not when the other issue is called Grace Millers.

I had a feeling that Sophia was going to bring her, and that was probably why I never asked. But now I know, and fuck if she knows that I know. And how I found out…

It’s hilarious because while I keep wanting to go tell my sister how none of it was my fault and declare myself not guilty, my brain is simultaneously replaying the entire scene at the back of my mind. And I don’t try to make it stop.

The way her bare hands would very softly til the waves, they way her shoulders would contract creating a hollow on her upper back only to stretch again into soft glowing skin, the way her legs–which in my defense I didn't know were her legs–broke the currents and created their own, the way the water stuck to her skin as if it’d never touched anything better, her lower back relaxing in the cold hug of the water as if the ocean had been yearning for her heat, and her hair, like silk softened in water to make it even more tempting.

And her face, of course, as it glowed when the water contoured the hollows and swells of her cheek and lips. If only I’d noticed her face before her legs and back.

It is the stupidest thing ever, coming to a private island in Italy and deciding to jump naked into the ocean with literal criminals all around you. Nothing better can be expected from a college girl, though.

I take one more step back while still facing the window, wondering if she’s still standing right there, or she’s left. Knowing her, she could really be exploring a crazier third option, like coming up the stairs of my house right now to face me. One more step and my calf meets my bed, making me sit down on the soft mattress. The heat and fatigue from the run urges me to give up, forget all about Grace Millers and sleep. Sleep till this entire family drama gets over. But I can’t do that.

I don’t think I’ve done that since seven years ago when I came back home, happy that I had done the job, protected my sister, only to find my world turned upside down. And suddenly I wasn’t the one completing missions, I was the one allotting them.

Taaking the throne of the biggest mafia in the world seems enticing till you're made to do it and it doesn't fit right. The seat was carved for my father, and he was made to fall out of it at the wrong time. I had no time to fix the throne, so I managed, and I have been managing ever since. I never let anyone realise the seat didn't fit, if I ever do, I know there are more than enough ready for the taking. And far as I know my father, he'd rather I learn to live with pricked skin than give his seat away. He never liked to give. And if I were being fair, I do not either.

He was not a good man, every one knows that. Moretti family wouldn't be what it is if her were. He was just an average father. But he was a great leader and so must I be.

I have a face to put up. A responsibility to show up and lead by example.

But even if I wasn’t all that I am, I still couldn’t skip Sophia’s birthday, she would kill me. That reminds me she might still kill me for better reasons.

I have to go meet her, and explain before that sly brown eyed woman goes and talks to her and makes the events of this morning into something it isn’t. Only thing is, I just hate the fact that the first in-person conversation I’m about to have with my only sister in years is going to be me explaining to her how I am not a perverted pedophile who was trying to watch her best friend as she took a bath in the sea–naked. Even though that might just be the most accurate narration of the incident.

Fucking Grace Millers.

When I walk into the living room of Sophia’s beach house, it is empty. I don’t exactly know when they reached but seeing how one of them was strolling across the beach minutes ago, I’m guessing they’ve been here for a few hours at least.

I walk around, or try to, the space is much smaller than the one I’m staying at. The furniture are almost merged into each other, but there are a lot of them, so I wouldn’t blame the space so much for it. And there is a badly placed home gym set up in what’s supposed to be the little space between the living room and the kitchen.

I manage my way through the machinery to reach the kitchen and when I find the coffee machine already operational, I take it that Sophia is up and somewhere around here. A sigh of relief escapes me, and I cringe at it.

I open the fridge and something falls over–fuck–milk followed by a bottle of orange juice and coconut water. I catch the half spilled can and one of the bottles, luckily the coconut water is plastic so it only ruins the silence of the room. I’m still struggling to make space in the fridge for the bottles when I hear Sophia walk in.

“Why-”

“Someone saw me swimming naked on the beach!” I’m cut off by a voice that doesn’t belong to my sister.

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