The Italian

My eyes scan the room until finally I find her. She’s sitting in the back corner with a boy. I can’t see his face. He’s wearing a cap. I walk over to behind a bookcase and watch them. For five minutes, they talk, and then eventually, he picks up her hand and kisses the back of it.

They’re obviously more than friends.

I clench my jaw. I knew it. I march over there at once, and they bot

h look up.

My heart stops.

Giuliano.

What the…?

“What are you doing?” I growl.

His eyes widen in horror.

“Enrico,” Francesca whispers in a panic. “We’re just talking.”

Before I can help myself, I grab him by the arm and I’m marching him toward the door. We burst out the front doors, and I throw him across the garden. He rolls spectacularly across the lawn.

“Rico!” Francesca cries from behind me.

“She is underage,” I shout.

He scrambles to his feet and steps forward. “You can’t stop me seeing her.”

Lorenzo comes running across the street. “Rico. Rico, no!” he cries, waving his hands in the air. “Stop it. Stop it now.”

For the second time tonight, I lose control. I grab Giuliano by the throat. “She is too young for you.”

“Stop it!” Francesca cries. “I love him. Stop it, Rico. Don’t hurt him.”

I turn to her, my eyes wide. What the fuck?

He’s her brother.

Lorenzo’s horrified eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

I squeeze Giuliano’s throat so hard that his eyes nearly pop out of his skull.

“You go near her again and you will be dealing with me.” I throw him across the garden, once more, and he falls to the ground.

Francesca runs to him but I grab her arm and tear her from his side. She fights to try and get back to him. I drag her to the car and throw her inside, slamming the door shut behind me.

I turn back to Giuliano as he watches on. He glares at me as he pushes himself to his feet. His fists are clenched by his sides, and anger is radiating out of him.

“I’m not leaving her alone,” he states, as if daring me to come at him again.

I step forward, dangerously close to losing control.

“Rico, don’t,” Lorenzo whispers. “Leave it.”

“I love her, and you can’t keep her from me.”

Contempt drips from my every pore. I don’t think I’ve ever despised someone as much as I despise him.

“Watch me,” I whisper.