Chapter 5 (Aliyana)


    The boot ms with a big thud as my sister’s mood enhance her ability to close things quietly.


    I sit in the front of the ck vanquish OWNED by my brother.


    Pushing the button to move the leather heated seat a bit forward, I slip my phone in my bag, ignoring


    Guilia and Filippo discussing her sudden blue mood. The reason is me. I knew that this morning when


    she arrived and heard from Papa that I would be joining the two of them. I stood there shocked that it


    was the first time she heard about it.


    Guilia and Leonardo’s rtionship was no longer just an arranged marriage. And as much as she tried


    to convince mest month when we had our luncheon of her loathing for Leonardo, foolishness is not a


    trait I possess. Guilia had gotten close to her soon-to-be husband and the closer she got, the more she


    secretly wished I wasn’t around to witness any of it.


    And I know it has nothing to do with any negative underlying issues she has about my 4-year-old crush


    on her soon-to-be husband. She just feels awkward.


    My sister convinced herself that any sign of happiness from her part meant a heart-breaking sadness


    on mine.


    Admittedly, it’s selfish of me not to have convinced her otherwise by now. To tell her the truth would


    mean I confess it to myself and risk other people finding out about my sins with Marco Catelli, namely,


    my father.


    Sometimes in the prism of my own self, I wonder if my silence really stemmed from self-preservation


    and the wrath of my father or was it that I secretly enjoyed her pity and spirited emotions that held me


    in its core.


    I touch the steering wheel as a colorful bird sweeps through the air. My phone rings and I already know


    who it is by the ring tone.


    “I’m not picking up,” I say to the empty car, as my heartbeat gets heavier.


    A shadow appears by the car''s window and I close my eyes as the fucking ring knocks on the window.


    “What!!!” I don’t face the perpetrator.


    He ignores me and knocks again.


    I take a deep breath and open the door with every intention of hurting him with the door, but he must


    sense my venomous thought and takes a step back.


    Both feet get out of the car as I stand by the open door and re at the arrogant blue-eyed, blonde-


    haired Matteo Fucking Di Salvo standing less than 4 ft. away from me.


    He is wearing a grey coat on top of his Winter Suit and his face is blotched with redness and remnants


    of his sickness.


    ording to Elise, Matteo got sick a week back, just after his return from Chicago. He also requested 0


    days off.


    But seeing him today, he is insanely warm. A hazard that is not going to assist with his fever-stricken


    body. It is cold today, but nheless beautiful, windless, yet tickled with a whisper of the uing


    snow that would soon grace our yards.


    This is the eye before the storm. A fitting description for this entire weekend. We were going to be


    experiencing a cold front soon and some snow.


    While normally I''ll bite my tongue around Matteo, I can’t help the words leaving my mouth.


    “If you are so sick why agree toe with?” My curiosity is unhidden standing in this weather looking


    at the boy who is slowly skirting off enemy lines. The question is why?


    “Contrary to what is ying in that little head of yours, I was not the brains behind this.” His voice is like


    sandpaper to my skin, and if he was anybody else, I would have felt sorry for him. But he isn’t anybody.


    He is my enemy that has moved way too close forfort into my entire world.


    “Contrary to what you BELIEVE is ying through MY head, I don’t want to be subjected to a sneezing


    soldier the entire weekend.” He rolls his eyes, huffing in annoyance.


    “Are you sure that is the only reason? Or are you just scared I will let your siblings in on your little


    secret? Tell me, Miss Capello, does your sister not smell the deceit and lies you try so hard to cover


    up?”


    Material ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I go to take a step forward but I see my brother just in time as he marches toward us with a quiet Guilia.


    “I’m not the only one with an agenda.” I hiss at Matteo, as he has the audacity tough.


    “But mine doesn’te with a bullet to the head.” Matteo leaves me with those parting words and I


    want to scream, shout and swear as loud as my voice could possibly manage, but with a thumping


    heartbeat, flushed skin, and an itching palm to p him I bite my tongue and hop into the car just as


    Filippo and Guilia pass me.


    “You good to drive the entire way? I have some paperwork I need to get done.” Filippo is not in a good


    mood. I wonder what was said in my absence, but the tension in the car is certainly at a dangerous


    point when Guilia jumps into the back without mming the door shut and Filippo opens hisptop


    without waiting for me to reply.


    I take a deep breath. Okay then.


    I push my finger in the start button as the cares to life and vibrations of its power bringing me a


    small reprieve of the intense day.


    Long drive, here wee.


    We arrive a little after 12pm. The three Bentleys at the back slow down on to the side of the forestation


    as we take the right, going off the tree view roads and into what at first resembles the beginning of a


    forest, but changes when we take a left, over a small pothole ande face to face with the gates of


    hell. They have actual demons with horns and tails welded into the wrought iron.


    “Must I hop out and press the buzzer?” I ask my brother who hasn’t said more than 5 sentences since


    we began our journey. And those were to give me directions.


    “I got it, you stay warm, you’ve been driving.” Filippo doesn’t wait for me to respond as he hops out of


    the warm car and into the freezing air. The further we drove, the colder the air became.


    I turn to see Guilia’s sleeping form, covered in a warm throw-over I carried in case.


    The manor is nothing of what I expected Marco’s ce to be. Which isn’t much to think about since I


    have never seen where the guy stayed.


    From the safety of the car I examine the expanse, and the distant walls we would soon be residing in. It


    resembles a 3-hundred-year-old castle. Filled with death, lies and history far beyond my almost 20


    years.


    Maybe it is some old ce that once belonged to a wealthy American family that had a taste for


    Victorian living. Or perhaps a British Aristocrat bought a piece of American soil and decided to put his


    own roots into thend and built this for his beloved.


    Filippo rubs his gloved hands together as he walks back to the car and hops


    in.