Black Death And White Roses (1) Mafia Romance

44. Bound to me

Marco

Cotton Candy and rain; I think this is it. That's what she smells like.

My hmm... not sure how to call her. If it's to think about it, not my anything.

Stefano will not let her be, as he will not let go of his hate for me and he is not someone to talk to rationally. He is... not someone to trust. Sadly.

And Lorenzo? It should be possible to sway him to let me have my so-called toy as long as I do what I am told. My toy. It's rather the other way around.

This night felt strange, to say the least, and sleep didn't come to me that easily, though it felt good holding her, as good as I remembered.

It's a guilty pleasure that I never should have indulged in, and still, it does appear as if I am the part of her life that is less fucked up. Who would have thought? If everything she said was true, and why wouldn't it be, she watched her family being mutilated and killed despite all efforts to avoid it. People are horrible and I am people.

All my victims were criminals, never civilians, still, they were people with feelings, sometimes families; no man is an island after all. As Stefano's brother, I could choose not to obey an order if I didn't feel like it. Sure he would throw a tantrum but he couldn't force me, so I never felt I crossed a man that didn't deserve it. That I deserve it too most certainly, that's another topic.

She whimpers again in her sleep like she did several times during the night when she pressed closer to me and it made me feel needed and powerless at the same time.

"Roxi, I will go see Grampa and arrange everything, okay?" I whisper and graze my lips over her cheek.

"Mmm, don't go," she says turning around and smiling sleepily.

"I can't stay in bed and plan murder at the same time; I am not Dr. Manhattan."

"Dr. Manhattan looks like a smurf. He has great abs though... But so do you," she says, touching my face.

That brief moment makes room for a lot of strangeness inside me. It makes me think how our life would have been were we born differently. We likely wouldn't have met but if we had, we would have been so grossly happy.

"What are you thinking about? You smile so weirdly."

"I am amazed that you know who Dr. Manhattan is." I lie, partially.

"I have a brother. Well, had. He liked comics," she says and the smile vanishes. Her eyes become glassy and the tears just fall over her face.

"I am sorry. I am so terribly sorry." But I know that regardless of what I say it will not matter or help.

"He liked playing violin and Ivan cut his fingers off. I cannot even imagine what must have been in his mind at that point," she whispers and her gaze looks lost, almost mad. "Did you ever do that? Cut someone's fingers off?"

With every word, I feel the bile rising up in my body. I have never felt so disgusted with myself in my whole life.

"No, I... prefer to be quick."

"How do you kill them?" she asks in a steady, calm voice that is profusely frightening.

"Why do you want to torture yourself?"

"Because I deserve it because Dani is dead and I am here playing house with you."

And you are torturing me too, just that I actually deserve it.

"We are not playing house. You are doing what you see fit to avenge your family and to survive. I don't want anything from you, Roxi and I know we are not going to sail into the sunrise together."