Alessio (The Guzzi Legacy Book 2)

by Bethany-Kris

  Another part of Corrado found it comforting that Alessio went to his parents’, out of all the places he might have hidden himself away. Like that’s where he thought would be safest for him. Corrado’s family.

  Huh.

  Chris took a drink from his coffee. Corrado figured that looked like something he should do, too. Relax for a minute and rethink this whole thing before he headed back to the penthouse to deal with the frustrating man waiting for him. Waving at a server passing with a tray of dishes she’d bussed from a table nearby, he was quick to say, “Another black coffee over here, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  He’d add in his own sugar and cream from the table.

  The server gave him a bright smile. “Sure, sir.”

  Chris eyed him from the side. “You’re not going right home? I figured you would, knowing he’s with her.”

  Corrado shook his head and dropped into the booth opposite of his brother. “He’s not going to hurt her. Not Les’s style, and all.”

  “I didn’t assume that, either.” Chris cleared his throat and dropped his brother’s gaze. “I meant, more that you might be jealous the two of them are alone together.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if someone I was fucking was alone with someone else, and the circumstances were … like yours, I might get irritated about it.”

  Corrado nodded. “And you’re not me … or him.”

  Or her, but Ginevra was still a wild card here.

  “I don’t understand how your relationships work at all.”

  Corrado laughed. “You don’t have to. It’s not your relationship, and you’re not the one they’re fucking, Chris.”

  “That’s probably a good thing.”

  Right?

  “Besides,” Corrado said, pulling the sugar and cream bowls closer to him as the server neared their table with a carafe of coffee ready, “the more time they spend with one another, the better it’ll be for me.”

  Chris arched a brow at the statement, but waited until the server had poured Corrado’s cup of coffee, and then left them alone before he spoke. “Why would that be good for you?”

  That seemed obvious.

  Corrado lifted his shoulders. “Then, perhaps I can get what I want.”

  “Which is …?”

  “Both.”

  Chris let out a sigh across the table, giving his brother the look. They both used it—identical twins and all, right? It said he was annoyed and amused all in one breath. “That’s a little selfish, yeah? You made a mess in your relationship with one, and then you dragged the other one into it without giving them the benefit of knowing what you were doing first. And now you want both like they should just … fall in line?”

  “That’s fair.” Corrado stirred sugar into his coffee first, following up with the cream. “But it still feels right.”

  That’s what mattered to him.

  Besides, he wanted what he wanted.

  Guzzis always got what they wanted.

  Corrado didn’t want to return to the penthouse pissed. He took his time going back. He figured … Alessio clearly wanted to do something there, or whatever. He wanted something, and Corrado would give him the chance to find it. It wouldn’t hurt Ginevra to spend time with Alessio, if she was able to handle his swinging moods.

  Corrado wasn’t any better in that respect, and hell, she handled him fine. He had no doubt Alessio would be the same.

  So, when he stepped inside the penthouse to laughter, he took a second to soak it in. It confused him, sure, and he had to listen again to make sure he heard what he thought he did … but yes, they were laughing.

  Together.

  Corrado didn’t bother to kick off his shoes, or remove his jacket before heading down the entrance. He came to a stop at the end, staying beyond the entryway to stare into the sitting room, finding the laughter.

  The first thing he noticed?

  Alessio had cut his hair.

  Gone was his almost a-little-too-long shaggy dark brown, almost black, style, only to be replaced with a shorter, but still wild, style. It never escaped Corrado’s notice how Alessio was, in many ways, his opposite. Corrado was the calm to Alessio’s storm. From the way they styled their hair, to the clothing they wore.

  Corrado would never ink his skin.

  Never pierce his body.

  Alessio did those things and more.

  Regularly.

  He liked this new hairstyle though. It showed Alessio’s eyes, even if all Corrado could see was the man’s profile. Now, Alessio didn’t have dark strands of hair to hide behind when he didn’t want someone to look in his gaze—which was where Corrado always found the truth hiding.

  Sitting opposite to Alessio on the couch with her legs thrown over the back as she rested on her back, and played the game on the television, Ginevra laughed again as Alessio shook his head.

  “That’s what he’s saying here, okay, it says right there in the line. That’s how you know he’s talking about sunlight in this one. Streams shooting high, blinding and bright, yellows and—”

  “It could be a she,” Ginevra replied, never looking away from the game as she conversed. “You’re assuming it’s a man, and you shouldn’t. Anonymous might be a woman. A lot of the poems in the book reference men, anyway. Sex, relationships, love … many discuss men, and not in first person, either.”

  Alessio made a noise under his breath. “It could be a man talking about all of those things with another man, too.”

  Corrado blinked.

  Were they talking about …

  Poetry?

  “So, what you mean to say is your bias—because you’re a bisexual, and in a relationship with a man—clouds how you interpret poems written by someone, who for all we know, is genderless, faceless, and … well, personless.”

  Alessio stared hard at Ginevra, even though she wasn’t looking back at him. Corrado found himself all too amused at the concentration knotting Alessio’s brow as he took in Ginevra like he was trying to figure her out. Finally, someone to challenge this man and his need for words.

  Corrado could never do it.

  Reading wasn’t his thing.

  “How did we go from talking about whether this poem is referencing sunlight to you deciding I’m biased on the author of it?” Alessio asked, cocking his head to the side as his gaze narrowed on the woman who was still playing her game like this wasn’t at all a big deal to her. “Because maybe I like to put pronouns on things, Ginny. It doesn’t have to be that deep.”

  “Oh, but it does, because everything is deep, Les. Everything when you read, or how you interpret it, but especially poetry, has meaning. The things you find between the lines, for example. Word play. It is all important. That is the author’s intention, but more so one who wrote an entire book of poetry under the name Anonymous, because they wanted you to consider them, or perhaps …”

  “What?”

  “Perhaps it was written with the intention to put yourself in their place.”

  Ginevra paused the game and turned to give Alessio all of her attention. A small smile curved her pretty, pink lips, and the sly glint in her eyes only added to the appeal. Alessio stared back, engrossed in the conversation, and unwilling to back away.

  Good, Corrado thought. Now he can see why … maybe.

  There was something about Ginevra.

  Something that fit.

  Not just him.

  Alessio, too.

  “Maybe, it was written like it was,” Ginevra said, “because the author wanted to write it for you, for me, the man walking down the street, or the woman sitting on the bench in the park … for my friend at college, or the professor at the front of the class. For anyone. So, every person could see the words and put themselves there. Because once a name gets attached to a book, whether we mean to, we put a face and a person to who wrote it, or what we believe about the person who wrote it based on the penname they chose, and what it means. Like this, we read it differently.”

 
Alessio relaxed into the couch, considering. “Huh.”

  “And they could still be talking about the color yellow, and not something else, so …”

  “It’s sunlight, Ginevra.”

  “Says you. Not once, in any of the four stanzas, does it reference the sky, clouds, the color blue, and it doesn’t even use words like overhead, or up above to make us think high, like the sky. So, no, it doesn’t have to be the sun just because you want it to be.”

  Her argument made, she went back to her game, unpausing it and clicking away at buttons on the remote.

  “Jesus Christ,” Alessio muttered, turning his attention away from her only for his gaze to land on Corrado in the hallway. For a brief second, something unknown flashed in Alessio’s eyes, almost like he didn’t know how to feel about the fact Corrado was there, watching them. Just as quickly, something else replaced it. Cunningness. “Looks like we have a visitor, Ginny.”

  She peeked around the edge of the couch, craning her neck just enough to see Corrado in the hallway, before going back to the game. “Seems so.”

  Corrado put his focus on Alessio, for the moment. “The haircut is new.”

  “I like to come back with something new, don’t I?”

  Ginevra passed a look to her companion on the couch. “What does that mean?”

  “It means he changes his appearance with different things when he’s away on …” Corrado considered his words, and how he wanted to say that. “… a job. That’s how he got the piercing in his nose, the ones in his nipples, the second sleeve of tattoos, and more. Sometimes, he keeps them, and other times, he doesn’t. All depends.”

  Alessio grinned over at Ginevra. “Reminds me of where I’ve been.”

  “Except you didn’t really leave, did you?”

  Just like that, Alessio’s smirk faded away as his gaze turned back on Corrado. “I wasn’t here. Same difference.”

  “According to you. How are my parents?”

  “Fantastic.”

  Corrado nodded. “Good. And, if you want to be here, you don’t have to trick me away, Les.”

  “Or you shouldn’t keep falling for it.”

  The snickers from the woman on the couch made Corrado narrow his gaze. Alessio’s smirk was back in place, like he enjoyed this.

  “What are you two doing?”

  “Reading poetry,” Ginevra said, although he couldn’t see her now she’d slid lower on the couch.

  “And gaming,” Alessio added, “or she is … she beat your score, too.”

  Corrado glanced at the television.

  Ginevra had done that, playing the online version which connected her to his account which he’d been working on back in Vegas.

  Dammit.

  He worked months for the score.

  Oh, well.

  He couldn’t be mad.

  Right?

  “Could we chat for a minute?” Corrado asked, stepping closer to the two on the couch as he nodded his head toward the back hallway leading deeper into the penthouse. “If you’re … not busy here, I mean.”

  Alessio might have enjoyed the sight of seeing Corrado confused—but also amused?—but he figured, this was going to happen, too. Them talking, like it would change what needed to be said.

  It wouldn’t.

  Alessio wasn’t ready for that.

  “Why not?” Alessio tossed the book of poems to the couch before standing. Then, to Ginevra, he said, “And it’s still talking about sunlight.”

  She grinned but didn’t look away from the TV.

  “Probably,” she returned, “but we don’t know for sure, do we?”

  He arched a brow, considering those words. She wasn’t wrong, but he thought she also didn’t realize how her words could be applied to a lot of other things in his life currently. Like this, and Corrado. Them, and whatever the hell they were doing.

  He was here because he needed to be.

  A part of him searching for something.

  Another part wanting to fix it.

  Yet, he wasn’t sure if those things were possible. Would he find what he was looking for here, and could they fix the mess they were now in? He was going to try for both, but he didn’t know anything for sure.

  “Also,” Ginevra said while Alessio rounded the couch, “if you two could just talk, and not … you know, do what you did before while I sit out here alone, that’d be great. I would appreciate it.”

  Alessio passed Corrado a look, smirking a bit at the sight of his lover’s face brightening with his surprise at Ginevra’s frankness. Did he not get that from her a lot? Because Alessio found Ginevra was straightforward when she wanted to be, and he enjoyed that.

  More than he should.

  “Oh, she’s sassy,” Alessio said, heading for the hallway, “and you know how I like that.”

  Corrado’s sigh echoed.

  Alessio’s laughter chased behind it.

  He took the first door in the hallway, to the master bedroom. Not five seconds later, Corrado followed behind Alessio, although he didn’t close the door. The sheets on the bed had been thrown aside. Rumpled and messy.

  Two people slept here.

  Fucked there.

  “I thought you didn’t want to be in here because I was—”

  “It’s not about the sex,” Alessio said, turning fast to face Corrado where he stood just beyond the doorway. “It was never about the fact you wanted to fuck her, Corrado.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Corrado stuffed his hands into his pockets as Alessio took a seat in the chair near the far window. There, he could watch Corrado’s reflection, but also enjoy the cloudless sky overhead. “Did you want to be alone with her today—this was purposeful?”

  “Yep.”

  “Could you try not being an asshole, or make any trouble, because you’re in your feelings right now? This is bigger than us—it’s about her safety, too. That’s why she’s here in the first place, to stay out of sight, and be somewhere safe while Andino Marcello handles her family in New York.”

  Alessio’s brow dipped. “Do you think I’m that petty?”

  “Pardon?”

  He stood from the chair, deciding he could do without comfort while he handled this thing Corrado was dancing around. Closing the space between them with wide strides, Alessio came toe to toe with Corrado, and only then did he speak again.

  “Do you think I am so petty I would put her in danger because you like her? Is that the man you believe I am, Corrado? Because if so… we need to have a different discussion.”

  He let that hang between them.

  It was Corrado’s move now.

  God knew Alessio didn’t come here because he wanted to shout and fight again. They’d done that already—he said enough shit to last them a lifetime. That’s not what this was about, now.

  He was trying.

  Corrado needed to try, too.

  “I know exactly what kind of man you are,” Corrado murmured, holding Alessio’s gaze, and refusing to drop it, “but I also know when you’re hurt, you act out even when you don’t mean to, Les. So, if you’re still working on that … let me know. Her safety here—not from you, not like that—is a priority for me.”

  Alessio made a noise, deep and dark. “And what other priority does she have?”

  “See, like that.”

  Okay, so Corrado wasn’t wrong.

  Alessio put his attitude in check.

  “I’m working on it,” Alessio said simply. “It’s the best I can do.”

  “All right.”

  Alessio broke their stare first, instead finding a spot on the wall to focus on as he said, “I’m here because it’s more than just her right now. It’s us, too. You owe me that—to decide this, and what we’re doing together. You owe it to me, Corrado.”

  “I do.”

  “That’s all you want to say?”

  “That should be all I need to say. Is it confusing and a mess? Yeah, Les, I know. But you’re here, so I can deal with the rest, and we can figur
e that out as we go. I can’t change the circumstance, and even if I could … I don’t know if I want to.”

  “Right, because you’re happy with what you did. You’re pleased with what you’ve got here right now. A woman you want to keep, and a man you can’t let go of—with you in the middle, huh?”

  “And you seem to think that’s easy for me. Like this mess doesn’t keep me up at night wondering what the fuck happened, or why, and you’re wrong. Because I know what I did, but I’m the only one trying to figure it out or fix it right now.”

  “No, I’m here. I’m here.”

  That should mean something.

  Shouldn’t it?

  Alessio thought so.

  “I just … want to know why,” Alessio said, shrugging one shoulder and still focusing on that spot on the wall. It was easier than looking at Corrado because when he did that, his emotions came into play, and he couldn’t compartmentalize the anger and sadness and betrayal with the parts of him that didn’t want to feel any of those things at all. “Why her, and why this. But also, why she has you like this … why you did this now … after five fucking years, you did this now.”

  “Do you want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  He figured that was obvious.

  Or it should be.

  “But do you really,” Corrado pressed, making Alessio’s attention snap back to him at the deeper tenor his tone took on. “Because you’ve always been touchy, Les, about me, what’s yours, and when you think someone is encroaching on things that belong to only you. Yeah, you don’t make it obvious sometimes, but you still do it. And don’t act like you didn’t come here because you felt like someone was encroaching on me, and you didn’t like that.”

  It was the challenge in Corrado’s stare that kept Alessio silent—the unspoken I dare you to lie right now that Corrado wouldn’t say.

  “Well?” Corrado asked.

  Alessio swallowed the thickness in his throat. “You’re not wrong.”

  It was his favorite way to say someone was right without showing his whole ass even if it irritated Corrado to no end.