The Sweetest Oblivion (Made 1)

“Please tell me you aren’t texting Jenny.”

“I’m not texting Jenny,” he said dryly.

He was texting Jenny.

“You both cheat on each other. Don’t you think it’s not the healthiest relationship to be in?”

He set his phone on the island and ran his hand through his hair. “I love her, Elena.”

A little lump formed in my throat. “Sometimes love isn’t enough, Tony.”

“Of course not,” he responded with a serious tone, and I thought we were going to have an intelligent, meaningful conversation for once, but then he opened his mouth again. “Good sex has to come with it.”

I sighed.

He laughed and ran a hand down his chest, smearing blood as he did. “You’re a good sister, Elena. Now come give your big brother a hug.”

“No.” I frowned. “You’re sweaty and bleeding.”

“A hug is the least I can do.”

“The least you can do is not—no, Tony, don’t!”

He squeezed me in a bear hug and made a show of wiping his nasty man-ness all over me. I groaned, wrinkled my nose, and tried to fight my way out of it.

He sucked in a breath. “Fuck.”

I froze. “What?”

“Broken rib, I think.”

I winced and pulled back just as Papà pushed the kitchen door open. He glanced at my first-aid supplies on the counter and then at me with disapproval, telling me not to coddle Tony. His gaze went to his son, eyeing him with that judgmental stare he was good at.

“You look like shit.”

Tony chuckled. “Thanks, Pops.”

The door swung shut, and then Papà’s voice filtered through it. “Office, now.”

Wide awake, with all my synapses still firing, I dragged my feet to my room. As the hot shower water sluiced down my skin, I wondered how bad Nicolas got it. Who was cleaning his cuts? Gianna? An unpleasant weight pulled on my chest.

In a restless daze, I combed my wet hair and then pulled on some panties and a tight t-shirt that said, “Sleep Tight, I Bite.”

Lying in bed, the gothic band Type O Negative leaked from Adriana’s room and into mine. A good sister would have gone to ask her why she was upset, but I was beginning to learn I was a selfish one. I closed my eyes, wishing I could only flip a switch to get rid of this attraction for her fiancé.

When I opened them, I still felt it—a fascination so deep in my skin it was like it had always been there, lying dormant. My breathing turned shallow as I relived the night: his presence brushing mine, his deep voice in my ear, his hand on my thigh, pushing my dress up and up.

Warmth ran between my legs, leaving an emptiness behind I was scared only he could fill.

I had it bad.

So bad.

I wanted this man like I hadn’t even known you could want a man.

Throwing the covers back, I slid out of bed and padded to the dresser. I pulled a Zippo lighter out of my clutch.

With the scratchy sound of the flint, a flame danced before my eyes.