Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
“Definitely condolences,” Abella mutters as she enters the room.
“You do remember that’s our cousin?” Rafe smirks at her.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Well, Gabi, you can break his heart and decide to marry me instead,” Michele offers.
“You’re too late.” Romeo studies me with his wolf-like gaze. “She only has heart-eyes for Orion.”
Heat surges up my spine, prickling my skin at the mention of that name. The very specific, only-ever-written-in-my-journal code name.
Abella glances between us in confusion. “Who’s Orion?”
“Don’t know,” Romeo answers. “Care to share with the class, Gabi?”
I stare at him, paralyzed with the horrific realization that he must have read my journal.
He arches a brow at me when I don’t respond. “If Orion is known as the hunter, does that mean you’re the prey?”
To my eternal shame, I can feel my ears turning red as I glare at him, making it obvious he’s gotten to me. .
Satisfied that he’s ruined my day, he shoulder checks Michele as he stalks from the room and down the hall—my underwear still in his pocket.
The brothers glance at each other, and Angelo shakes his head. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rafe winks at me as he exits the room, leaving me more confused and frazzled than ever.
The rest of the men follow, and Abella stares after them with an odd expression on her face.
“That was weird, right?” I ask.
Sometimes I don’t know if I’m reading things correctly, but she confirms it with a nod.
“That was definitely weird. Things have been tense between them the last few days, and I’m not sure why.”
I twist my fingers together, scanning the boxes they’ve brought in so far. The panicky urge to find my journal swells in my chest, but there isn’t time before the men return with more of my belongings.
After another handful of trips, they’ve delivered all my things and organized the boxes into stacks on one side of the room. I’m still staring at them when Abella pulls me aside.
“Is everything okay?” she asks. “I know this is a lot all at once.”
“It’s just…” My words trail off. What am I going to say—I think Romeo read my diary? Then I’d have to admit who Orion really is, and that’s the last thing I want to do right now.
“I just have to take Beppe out for his walk.” I march over and scoop him off the bed.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“It’s okay. I have Julian, and I won’t be long.”
“Alright. We’ll get the furniture moved around the way you wanted.”
I thank her and make a quick escape, hauling Beppe down the hall. Julian appears a moment later, like he knew I was coming. Sometimes I think the man has a sixth sense.
“Ready for his walk?” he asks.
I release a breath and nod.
“Let’s go.”
By the time Julian and I return, Mariella, Valentina, and Chantel have arrived. They’re parked on the lounge next to Abella, the four of them chatting while the Vitale men congregate around the bar.
“Hey, Gabs.” Chantel pats the space beside her. “Come relax for a bit. We ordered pizza for dinner. It should be here soon.”
I nod at her, stealing a glance at the men as I walk across the room. Romeo tracks me with his gaze, his face unreadable as ever. I swear he lives to torment me, and on my worst days, I can’t even say that I blame him.
If it wasn’t for me, he never would have been struck by lightning.
Because of what happened that day, his life has been irrevocably altered. The damage he sustained and the subsequent cardiac arrest left him with lasting psychological, neurological, and physical changes.
Those first four years were so dark, he barely survived. His father shuffled him from one treatment facility to another, hoping for some kind of miracle, but there were none to be found. He’ll live with those personality changes, volatile moods, and chronic pain for the rest of his life.
Arguably, I deserve his wrath. But this battle between us has raged so brutally for so long, I don’t have it in me to fight him anymore.
Now, when I look at him, I just feel sad. I ache for everything he lost, and I wish more than anything he could forgive me, but I know he never will.
I’m bone-tired, and I decided long ago that I had to stop engaging in this war. Being near him, it’s easy to forget, particularly when he goes out of his way to taunt me. It’s almost like an addiction, because any reaction from him, good or bad, drags me back into his orbit. But it comes at a cost. Every barbed insult, every harsh look—they wear me down until there’s nothing left.
The fresh air and long walk cleared my head, leaving me with one inalterable truth. For my sanity, I have to move on from this. I have to stop getting sucked into this spiral and find a way to ignore him. So instead of reacting when he pats his pocket, subtly reminding me he stole my underwear, I settle onto the lounge, turn my back toward him, and focus on my friends.