Property Of Vittore Martinelli ✓

50

Dalia stood up and placed herself in front of me, waving a hand in my face. "Hello, earth to the Italian. I just survived a bomb explosion and feel as lively as ever and you're not going to say anything?" A cute frown settled on her face. "That's bloody rude if you ask me."

"Your phone?" I asked darkly, still recovering though I didn't show it.

"You're angry about that? I sort of lost it when the bomb went off and when I did manage to locate it, it was destroyed so..." Dalia shrugged, not at all apologetic. "I gave it to Peyton to take care of things."

I sighed and at that moment is when my body finally rested. Dalia was fine and she was safe. That was all I wanted.

"You should get cleaned up. You did a good job," I said nodding at her in respect. Dalia was young but her ability to handle what our world threw at her would never cease to amaze me. That was a fact I planned to take to my grave.

I turned from her and sat at my desk, thinking of all the work I had missed trying to reach Dalia. I did have much to do but I would get it done quickly.

"A good job?" Dalia scoffed, sitting on my desk, her body facing mine. "I'd like to think I was bloody brilliant with the whole thing. There's no evidence, nothing that points to me or did you forget where the news article read "Due to their expertise, the hit placed by the suspect are well made and leave no fingerprints"."

"You read that?" I asked her and she scoffed yet again.

"Of course I did. I read all the articles that the public have written about my very experienced assassin skills," Dalia said with a smirk and she slid off my desk. "I'm going to clean up. You look a tad bit busy right now so could you meet me downstairs for supper? Faye and I are cooking and I wanted to talk."

"Yeah sure tesoro. I'll be there," I promised and Dalia nodded her head, walking out.

I sighed once she was gone and got to work. Now that my mind was settled, I got my things done faster and by the time dinner rolled around, I was nearly done but decided to take a break. I stood up, unfastening the cufflinks of my black shirt. I walked out of my office, listening to my mother's commanding voice in the kitchen as she shouted at Dalia because of something about eating her vegetables.

Dalia retaliated saying she couldn't eat vegetables for the rest of her life and I shook my head, knowing that she wouldn't win against my mother. She was a storm, fiercely loyal with the heart of a dragon and the soul of the purest kind. I loved her, even when she blames herself for not helping me with my father.

I entered my room and my whole mood darkened at the thought of Matteo as I unbuttoned my shirt. Calling him the devil would be an insult to the actual demons that lurked the earth. I didn't plan to let him live long, just enough to make him think I was taking pity on his soul but he was going to die by my hands. That was a promise I'd made that I planned to follow through.

I walked into the bathroom, throwing my shirt in the basket and unbuckling my belt. I caught my gaze in my mirror, my eyes running over my tattoos. I'd gotten most of then the year I turned 15 being a stupid teenager but I didn't regret a single one.

Looking back at the days of my adolescence, I could say I made many mistakes, some I deeply regret but I lived in that moment and that's what made it all worthwhile. I stepped under the shower, the cool water running down my back and washing the day's stress off.

When I was done, I stepped out with a towel around my waist and one in my hand that I rubbed in my hair to dry it faster. A knock sounded at the door and I moved to open it, my mother standing on the other side.

"Its time for dinner," she said. "Hurry up and get dressed."

I sighed and nodded. "Sarò lì (I'll be there)."

I made a move to close the door but my mother put a hand on it, her gaze going behind me. I sighed when I knew what she was looking at.

"Cosa ti avevo detto sul lasciare i tuoi vestiti ovunque (What did I tell you about leaving your clothes everywhere)?!" she snapped barging in past me, picking up the suit jacket I'd left on the back of my chair yesterday.

"Mamma," I mumbled with a sigh but she was having none of it. She picked my suit jacket up and hanged it in my closet and she frowned before she started colour coordinating them.

"Don't we have dinner mamma?" I asked trying to move her away. "You should leave so I can get dressed."

My mother scoffed and threw her hair over her shoulder. "Ti ho dato alla luce. Non c'è niente su di te che non ho visto, quindi se vuoi vestirti, puoi, ma io resto qui finché questo armadio non sembra sistemato (I gave birth to you. There's nothing about you that I haven't seen, so if you want to get dressed, you can, but I'm staying here until this closet looks sorted)."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. I loved my mother, I did but it was little things like this that made me question a lot. I picked out a pair of flannel pants and a shirt while my mother was still colour coordinating and changed from the bathroom.