I’ll Burn Anyone (The Challenge Night Series Book 2)

by K. L Mann

  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve felt touch, just exclusively my own touch. It’s pathetic, but I know how to please myself, so it’s not all bad. I just don’t understand why it hasn’t happened yet. I’ve wanted it before, many times. There was a brief period where I wanted it to happen just to make Gio jealous, but I haven’t even tried with anyone else since I turned eighteen.

  The legal age of consent in Italy is fourteen, but Gio wouldn’t even flirt back at me when I was sixteen. Understandably, I think he didn’t want to feel like he was grooming me. So, I backed off until I turned eighteen, that is. Still, he didn’t budge, and it got increasingly upsetting when he would reject me.

  I drunkenly kissed Gio a few months ago, and I wanted it to go further so badly. I could have sworn he was going to kiss me back. Instead, he pushed me off. Then the next day, Lorenzo scolded me about it for an hour as if I were a child. Like I wasn’t already embarrassed enough to be rejected, Gio told on me too.

  My stubborn man.

  Katherine’s room is on the second floor, and it’s huge. It might even be bigger than my room at the family estate. As I open the door, chills run down my back; It’s cold in here.

  Katherine’s room was decorated by Caterina before she even arrived in Italy, meaning it was done before we knew what she was like. Pale pink paint covers the entire room, and gold accents are methodically placed along the walls. In the center of the back wall, a massive bed in the shape of a circle was decorated with throw pillows of pink and white shades. Caterina and I have similar tastes and styles but this room is certainly not Katherine-like. I’m assuming she’ll redecorate at some point.

  As I get further inside. I see that there’s a little note propped up on the bed.

  “Help yourself to anything, closet included, though I’m not sure if any of it will fit. Have fun and relax, this is to take stress away, not add it!

  -your favorite sister–in–law”

  Katherine has this weird idea that I’m a million times skinnier than her. We’re practically the same size. She just has bigger hips and definitely bigger boobs. I looked it up on the internet and I think she has some sort of body dysmorphia which makes me sad for her. She’s fucking hot, but sometimes it’s like she doesn’t think she is. Granted, her size has very little to do with how stunning she is. All bodies can be gorgeous.

  She has these weird mood swings, like she represses herself sometimes and other times is the life of the party. I know she has a lot of sadness in her past, but we don’t talk about it.

  I put the note on the bedside table near the alarm clock and set my suitcase on the bed. Walking into the ensuite bathroom, my mind relaxes at the sight of her shower. Mostly because I need it. I need to be under the hot stream of water and experience it again. A good shower. I couldn’t stand having to shower at school in the dorms. The water pressure is awful and the hot water doesn’t last long enough.

  There’s a folded stack of fluffy white towels on the sink that looks like soft clouds of cotton. Her shower covers the entire back wall of the bathroom. It’s beautiful and the deep spa sized tub is calling my name too. But a shower will be quicker, and I’m hungry, so that’s my choice.

  The water is practically boiling hot, filling the air with wet steam, just the way I like it. Katherine and I use the same products aside from our conditioners. Her hair is significantly curlier than mine, meaning she needs special stuff for it. My hair has always been sort of wavy from time to time, but it’s usually straight until I style it. So, I use my personal conditioner, lathering it all over my head, pulling out any tangles in the process. The waterfall shower head fills the room with echoes that make it sound like a rainstorm. It’s peaceful, but when my stomach growls at me, I finish up and get out.

  I towel dry my body and blow out my hair, keeping it straight with a little volume. I’m cold doing this naked, but I hate getting dressed with wet hair, so I tough it out. Once I finish, I throw on a simple baby blue bra and panties set and try to decide what to wear. I don’t know if I’ll see Gio or not, but I’m starting my mission slowly.

  I pick out a pair of skintight black jeans with tattered rips in the knees and put on a pink long–sleeved crop top. My sparkly belly button ring is visible just the right amount. I don’t know that Gio or Luca has ever seen it, but they will now. Converse and a pair of silver hoops top off the look. For makeup I just put on my base, lashes, Chapstick and some bronzer. I’m not going out, so I don’t care too much about having a fancy eye–look on.

  The alarm clock says 7pm when I grab my phone and make my way out of the room. I shove it in my back pocket and take the stairs down to the foyer.

  It’s empty.

  I make my way to the kitchen and I find Luca sitting at the marbled countertop. Most of the time, eating at Lorenzo’s is a casual affair. We opt for the island counter and tall chairs over the formal dining room. Though, I’d argue that the kitchen is nearly as fancy. Given that mamma designed it herself, it’s functional and simple, just like Lorenzo.

  Luca is eating pizza from Bella’s, our family's favorite shop. There’re three boxes on the counter and a bottle of white wine opened next to them. I don’t acknowledge him. Instead, I just walk past him and grab a plate. He doesn’t acknowledge me either.

  I think I see him glance at me, but I don’t pay attention. Taking a slice with vegetables on it and grabbing a wine glass before I sit down, I do a medium pour into the glass and sit at the counter, leaving a chair of space in between us.

  The pizza is cold when I bite into it, but still fantastic. The wine is from one of my mom’s selections. She has good taste, of course. I’ve been drinking wine casually since I was like twelve, so I like to think I know a bit about it. Katherine, though, likes cheap white wine that could pass for sparkling grape juice. I love her, but sometimes she makes me cringe.

  I want to know where Gio is, but I don’t want to ask. Luca will just give me grief about it if I do. Since Katherine moved in, she’s been making not-so-subtle hints about Gio and I. Luca has made his place on the matter clear. He doesn’t think it’ll happen, and that irritates me.

  A little faith would be nice, dammit.

  “Has Lorenzo been in touch? I only got a few texts from Katherine today.” I try to make small talk and act cool, but I'm not very good at it. It pains me. I don’t like not having a set plan for conversations. Being rehearsed is a habit that I find comforting.

  Luca grunts, swallowing his last bite. “Yeah, they’re good,” he confirms.

  “Oh.”

  I’ve finished my pizza too, but I stay in my seat, sipping the last of my wine. The glass clicks quietly against the countertop as I set it back down. I like sounds like that. Crisp and concise, never too sharp or difficult to hear.

  “You gonna ask what you really want to know?”

  My heart thumps in my chest, but I keep my face relaxed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I nearly stutter, trying to fake confusion.

  “You’re like the worst liar, you know that?” He laughs, giving me a cheeky grin. “Gio’s out, he’ll be back though.”

  Possessive questions swirl around in my mind, itching to come out.

  Out where?

  With who?

  How long has he been gone?

  “That’s pretty vague.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me and it makes my stomach flutter with even more nerves. “I thought you didn’t want to know?”

  “I don’t,” I huff unconvincingly.

  “Right.” His reply is all sarcasm.

  “Maybe I just wanted to talk to you Luca,” I retort with a forked tongue. My lashes bat at him without permission in a teasing sort of manner, punctuating my claim.

  He eyes me cautiously, his lips curling into a smile. “Need a little banter to keep you on your toes, princess, is that it?”

  “Maybe I’m trying to trip you up, jerk. Make you lose your focus and then use your inevitable mistake to blackmail you. It’s always good to be a
rmed against unruly enemies.”

  “We’re hardly enemies, and you could never trip me up princess. I know you,” he retorts with confidence. Cockiness is more like it. He bleeds it.

  Luca stands up, striding around the counter, keeping his eyes on mine. He puts his plate in the deep, white sink with easy delicate hands. I do too, holding his gaze, keeping my chin up. We’re close together now and it feels strange, breathing the same air. His eyes land on my stomach, seating themselves at the location. Once they’re set, they don’t move.

  Chills run over me unexpectedly.

  “What?” I look back down at it, thinking I may have split food on myself.

  He flicks his finger against my bellybutton jewelry and it sways as he does. His skin only briefly hits mine, but I feel it deeper than I should. “Your dad know about that?”

  “I’m twenty years old. I don’t need permission from my dad anymore Luca, for anything.” Hitting his hand away from my skin, I take a small step back. The audacity of him to treat me like a child is infuriating. “Lorenzo is covered in tattoos and does whatever he wants. I get a piercing and suddenly we’re a conservative family?”

  “If you don’t need permission from dear old dad, then why are you here secretly?” Luca smirks like he’s beaten me with his cunning wit, but I’m not a loser. I will never be a loser. Vitales are winners. It’s my birthright, not his.

  “You know why,” I sigh as my eyes roll smoothly. Now I feel exposed and defensive. “If I complain that I don’t want to be on campus because no one wants to be my friend, I’m not exactly going to get a sympathetic reaction from him. He doesn't do ‘running away’ from your problems.” I sound so stupid, but I don’t care. I don’t need Luca’s judgement.

  “Poor princess Vitale,” he fake pouts, spouting my other famous nickname. “I’m sure it’s so hard being an heiress when no one is there to fall at your feet and praise you.”

  “Exactly. Thanks for proving my point, asshole. You’re just like him,” I grumble, throwing my hands up like I’m exhausted. “Screw you Luca.” I genuinely hate confrontation and it’s making my stomach hurt. I could do without the utter lack of understanding that seems to encompass this house. “You have friends and people like you. No, scratch that, everyone loves you. My parents, my brother, Katherine, and every stranger you’ve ever met. People used to tolerate me, but no one talks to me anymore. The only time I hear my name is when people whisper about Arianna Vitale, the rich girl to stay away from. I didn’t fucking do anything, but somehow, I’m bad news to everyone on campus. I thought it was just because I was a freshman last year, but nothing has changed. Since I’ve enrolled, I’ve gone to one college party, because it was an open invitation.”

  Luca’s face changes a little, a hint of sympathy flashes in his eyes.

  “Boo hoo, you don’t need friends.”

  Okay, maybe it’s not sympathy.

  “You’re impossible.” I feel my eyes getting wet as I turn away from him. I start to leave the kitchen and yell back, “I hate you guys. At least Katherine was nice to me!” My voice cracks on the last note of my tantrum.

  I rarely lash out. Vitales are level–headed, controlled under all circumstances. But I’m sick of no one understanding that pain doesn’t have to be physical in order to be real.

  These tears are more embarrassing tears than sad ones, though I suppose I’ve always been sensitive. I’ve gotten significantly better at not crying, but this is a fresh wound. I immediately whip my tears away when they hit my skin. Rushing back up the stairs to Katherine’s room, I whip out my phone and dial Marco, slamming the door behind me as he picks up the phone.

  “What’s up?” is all he greets me with.

  “I want to go out.” My voice shakes slightly as I speak.

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah tonight, it’s Friday, let’s go to Club Lucifer.”

  “Why? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Bring friends, tabs on me.” I pause, collecting myself for a moment. “You'll have to sneak me out though.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so? You’re paying and you’re sneaking out? Devious, I’m in. Figure out how to sneak out of fortress Vitale and I’ll get you at eleven.”

  Relief shoots through me beautifully.

  I need a night out with people who don’t retract away in my presence. “Thank you!”

  I hang up and check the time on my phone. It’s almost 8pm, so I still have awhile before I need to get ready. I kind of want to go downstairs to watch TV, but I don’t want to see Luca, or Gio, for that matter. I decide to work on my other assignments instead.

  Chapter 2: Raising Hell

  “But those with an evil heart

  seem to have a talent for destroying anything

  beautiful which is about to bloom.”

  –Cynthia Rylant

  Luca

  As Arianna storms out of the kitchen, I kick myself for being a dickhead. A royal asshole of dickhead proportions. I should have said something nice, or at least nicer than boo hoo.

  I know she’s been struggling and still; I followed the rules like a good little boy and brushed her off. The sting of hurting her burns like acid torture. I could have been less of a bastard easily, but I didn’t. I obeyed.

  Like I said, dickhead. Total, unacceptable, douchebag behavior. Behavior I’ve been keeping up for two years now. Pretending to resent the little unassuming princess since she caught my eye two years ago. Sure, I’ve known her since she was 10, but the attraction never hit until she was eighteen at her fucking birthday party, of all places.

  I have to act like this, but I hate it more than I like to admit.

  The truth is, I like Arianna a lot.

  She’s a ballsy little spitfire, a queen bee with an attitude problem, but nonetheless she’s… well, it’s complicated. I refuse to think of her as a little sister. She’s not my blood, but Lorenzo might as well be. We’re not related, far from it, but being that I call her older brother my brother, it’s a complex dynamic. Sister to me though? Definitely not.

  I think about putting my mouth on her far too much for that.

  That’s precisely why I have to continue my asshole act around her. Poking fun at her is the only way I can safely communicate with Arianna and fuck if I don’t love hearing her voice. The redness in her ears when I call her spoiled, the little uptick in her tone when I laugh at her, it all drives me fucking mad. Mad because I can’t have her and she’s hopelessly in love with Gio.

  Of course, he’s too stubborn to make her his anyway, but still. I should have comforted her. Told her we could talk about it or shit, at least empathized out loud.

  Arianna doesn’t understand why we started this little hating game we have going on, but I know all too well. I’m sure she assumes it’s because she’s rich and has been gifted the entire world on a silver platter while I barely made it to 16 years old alive. But it was never that.

  No, I had to start this little game to keep myself from doing something stupid like falling head over dick for her. She’s not mine to keep.

  Sighing, I flip open to our group chat and update the guys.

  Luca: So, I made her cry already. Who decided it was a good idea for me to be the entire welcoming committee, again?

  Lorenzo: She cried?

  Gio: Did you kill a puppy or something? She doesn’t cry in front of people.

  Luca: The words “Boo Hoo” may have been involved after she divulged how horrible her college experience has been. My bad.

  Lorenzo: Make it right or I’ll make Caterina poison you. –Katherine (The Warden)

  Gio: The Warden? Really, K?

  Lorenzo: Haven’t won challenge night yet, can’t use my fancy code name until then. So yes, call me Warden and get your shit together. No more tears allowed.

  Luca: How the hell am I supposed to fix it? She doesn’t like me. Make Gio do it.

  Gio: Great idea.

  Lorenzo: That was sarcasm, right?

  Luca:
Katherine, give Lorenzo back his phone.

  Lorenzo: Can’t, he’s busy. Verrrry busy.

  Gio: I’m leaving now.

  Lorenzo: FIX IT.

  Luca: Got it, warden.

  Well, that was useless.

  How the fuck am I supposed to fix this?

  Scratching my head, I try to push her out of my thoughts, like that’s even possible. I’m going to feel guilty for weeks. Her face looked like I smacked her with betrayal and the tears, the goddamn tears, made me murderous.

  How can her life be set up for such perfection and still let her down so hard? Arianna Vitale shouldn’t have a care in the world. She should be happy at all times because she should have everything she’s ever wanted. She’s got a trust fund that could buy a small country, protection, parents who love her, a head full of knowledge and a face that models would fight in a hunger games style competition to win. Arianna is charismatic and social, dressed for success and overall lovely, yet she suffers.

  You could make her happy. The unwelcomed voice tells me, playing into what I wish could happen. You could make her feel love. More smiles, more laughs, more touches.

  Snap. The fuck. Out of it.

  One day she’ll be happy all the time and I’ll be content to witness it. I don’t need to be the one causing it, I just have to see it. I’m the kind of man who doesn’t need credit, but I need proof. Solid evidence that things are how they are supposed to be. Katherine barreling into our lives solidified that for me. I didn’t need to be the reason Lorenzo was happy, but I sure as fuck enjoyed watching it.

  I’m not sure what that makes me, but I think a therapist would say I should focus on my own happiness instead of feeding off of everyone else's. I’ve always thought I could probably benefit from speaking with a professional, however it would also go over poorly.

  They’d probably have an existential crisis after I finished speaking. My childhood holds horrors that no amount of schooling could prepare someone for. Hell, I thought I must be certifiably insane until I met Lorenzo and Gio. Turns out, I’m pretty normal as far as the Vitale mafia men are concerned. In fact, they like how my mind works.