Chapter 11: Alek Russo

I didn't sleep with her.

The moment Mae walked in and I saw her fucking face, I lost my entire appetite.

And my will to live.

And the moment Mae walked out of the room, I asked the girl to kindly leave and sent her back home.

Mae's fucking face won't leave my head. No matter what I do, no matter how many times I remind myself she is the one who killed Matteo, her face keeps coming back. It's like a new form of torture that is slowly driving me insane and whenever I close my eyes, all I see is her looking at me with her brown innocent orbs. But I'm not stupid.

There's nothing innocent about Mae.

Whenever I close my eyes, I see her fucking silky black hair that I'd kill to just grab and pull.

Like a leash.

I blink, as if realizing what the hell I'm thinking about.

"Guardie! Chiama per il cibo! (Guards! Call for food!)" I yell at the door from where I sit shirtless on my bed. My jeans hang low on my hips as I get up from where I sit and begin to pace the room. I need to think about anything and anyone other than Mae.

Mae's face swarms my face once more and I put my head in my hands, rubbing.

Maybe if we fuck once….

"Signore," says a voice from my door. "Your food-"

"Put it on my bed," I say without turning around or lifting my head from my hands. "Grazie (thank you)."

I feel movement behind me before the door closes with a light tick and I finally lift my head. Only to make contact with my reflection in the mirror that is across from my room.

My hair is a mess, I notice, as I make my way towards it to admire myself. There are eye bags under my eyes and a light stubble has appeared on my jaw. I silently remind myself to shave after dinner and silently turn around to make my way towards my bed.

I eat in silence. I don't usually get a chance to eat alone in my room when my father is home, so I've taken this chance when he's away. Today, he's out at the Crimson Bar with a few other men and I'm pretty sure Mae's father is one of them. Like my father likes to say "keeping relations are important" and that is exactly what he's out doing.

I turn to my phone, pondering. I began to dial my best friend's number. He's in Italy still, dealing with some business my father has sent him on. It's another relations job, because apparantly everything else is all well and good in my fathers fucking hands.

"Alek," Diego picks up on the first ring, as if he'd been anticipating my call. "It's 3 fucking AM dude, you woke me up."

I know he's lying. He has insomnia, there's no way he was sleeping.

"Since you weren't going to call, I did," I grunt, taking a long sip of water. "How's work going back home?"

There's a long pause, "I'm coming to New York this week."

I furrow my eyebrows, "What about the task my father gave you?"

"He's given it to Spencer."

I curse loudly under my breath. That stupid American who's using my father for money got the job Diego has been working on for so long? Hell no.

"I'll speak to my father," I grit my teeth. "Don't worry about it-"

"Alek, wait. Don't."

"What?"

Diego pauses once more, as if he's deep in thought, "I want to come to New York. Let Spencer have this job, it will keep him busy here at home-"

There's a whisper and then a sultry voice, "Diego…."

I can't help but groan, "Seriously, Diego?"

"What?" my best friend whines, hushing the girl on the other end before turning back to the phone. "It's not like you didn't have a girl in your room ten minutes ago."

"Fifteen minutes ago," I can't help but correct.

"Yeah, and that makes a big deal."

I roll my eyes. Fucking idiot. "When are you coming here?"

"Uuuuh," there's a rustle over the call and Diego replies with a distracted tone. "Um, three to four days I think."

"Bye Diego, see you then. Have fun banging."

There's a huff of laughter and then I cut the call, not because I don't want to talk to Diego, because I'm feeling so fucking sick.

A sharp stomach pain has me bent over, gasping. Swearing every possible foul curse word in Italian I can possibly think of, I press a hand to my stomach. The pain intensifies and I swear louder.

I open my mouth to call the guards but nothing comes out of my mouth. I can hardly breathe, so instead, I reach for my phone.

Who should I call? Who should I call? No one's going to pick up my call- Mae? No-

Lorenzo.

My brother

I dial his number that I've memorized by heart. I hold my phone with shaky fingers to my ear and count to ten.

He picks up at the second ring.

"Hey big bro, what's up?"

"Shit…." I whisper as pain shoots up my stomach and to my chest.

There's a light shuffle in the background and Lorenzo's voice gets louder as if he brought his phone closer to his mouth, "Alek? Alek, look, if you accidentally booty called me while banging another chick of yours, this is your sign to close this call and not keep your phone close to you when you're-"

"Lorenzo," I breathe, voice shaking. "Help-"

I hear Lorenzo suck in a harsh breath, as if in sudden panic. "Where are you?" He asks quickly. "I'm coming, where are you?"

"Room…."

"Don't move!" Lorenzo yells into the phone and I can hear his breathless voice in my ear. "Don't you dare fucking move. I'm coming, big bro, hold on. Please."

I drop back onto my bed, a pained gasp leaving my lips. What the hell is wrong with me? What's happening?

Just as I began to convulse on the bed, my door bangs open and a panicked Lorenzo and guards rush into my room. My smart little brother has brought Mr. Kale with him, the doctor, just in case.

But I'm in too much pain to notice anything else. I'm shaking and my eyes are rolling to the back of my head. I can barely make out Lorenzo's pleas.

"Alek!" he's shouting, gripping my shoulders. "Alek, fratello (brother), please!"

His words are drowned amidst the roaring in my ears. But when the doctor speaks, his words echo into my mind and leave me breathless.

"He's been poisoned," Mr. Kale says. "And he has only 24 hours left to live."