My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

57

For two hours' time, Josephine dreamed of just reaching with her soft hands and plucking Camilo's eyes out. One by one.

"Josephine?" he said, raising his eyebrows. "Are you listening?"

She hummed, gaze pooling to his own. It was those eyes than anything else that gave him his beauty. From the proximity, she saw a lighted region curving around the pupil. The color had her imaging spoonfuls of honey. And she imagined that color staring right at her in the palm of her hands, his sockets empty and eyeballs cleanly off...

"College," He said again. He tried to reach her attention, tapping a finger on her skin. She reluctantly forced herself to pay attention. "What are your plans after?"

What he really meant was, what were her plans after they were done with each other. Josephine bit her lip, drawing into thought. Father had already planned everything—her resume, the schools she'd selected, the clubs, though those were optional, even as far as the professors—all of it was ready one year ago. Before she went ahead and soddened herself with another year in highschool.

"Probably the same ones from last year," She said. If anything, Father hated to be wrong far more than he hated to be disobeyed. Just because his daughter screwed up didn't mean his plans for her had to change. In fact, if there were any schools frowning at her record, they'd no sooner find themselves with a new garden or something to quiet their disregards. And open Josephine's future once again.

Camillo dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "You don't sound too excited."

Hours before, Josephine had come here with a purpose: to figure out the twins' secret and cook up an alibi good enough to convince Beatriz. Camillo had been the first to respond to her messages, and when he informed her they were planning to meet up and investigate, she'd no sooner accepted the invite and found herself in Camillo's apartment. Alone.

Of course they had started talking. Talking and then flirting and then getting off track before they were both tumbling into bed, distracted by each other, pressing body against body in heat. They discarded their clothes as quickly as their kisses came until they had nothing else but each other in their arms.

Camillo had finished far earlier than the first time this foolery happened but was curling up to her in his bed like a cat waning for attention. She wasn't one to relax with a boy who was cheating on her, even though she enjoyed the attention, but he wasn't really cheating on her. They weren't even in a relationship. He was more like misleading her. But Dante's meddling voice rang in her ears, and she fell into his arms.

"What about you?" She poked his chest, then grimace when his skin didn't so much as cave inward. Solid muscle. "Do mafia heirs even go to college?"

"Some." Camillo swirled a strand of her hair. "It just depends on the person and what's going on within the family business. Things between our families have always been shaky, but with Dante's mom dealing with Hugo's death I don't think she's worried about waging war against us."

"Unless you can't figure this out by the end of the year. " His hand stilled.

She knew it was an ugly reminder, but she wanted to see how he'd react.

"True," He said, continuing with his stroking. His tone held no fear. "But by then, I think we'll have the killer. I'm sure of it. Because of you, we're finally making progress."

"Did you ask the twins about the video footage?" She couldn't help but ask.

"Not yet," He confessed. "But I'm planning on asking them." He added, "Later."

She knew. She knew he still held that familiarity towards them, that whatever the twins were doing it wasn't murder. Trust was a funny thing. To believe blindly despite all odds, only supported by the memories you held. She didn't know what that felt like.