Rina Zante“What are you doing here?”He screeched to a halt and formed that look I very much hated. Bewilderment with a tinge of anger tensed his brows. But for a moment. He was able to break free from the spell and speak. His voice, everything I didn’t want to hear again. “We need to talk.”I waited to hear him say the stuff that’d make me lose it and deal heartlessly with him. His silence, however, did the trick: throwing me off my beam of patience. I started out, choosing not to flare up yet till he gave a more valid reason to. And he did just that when his suffocating form blocked my path. I pulled away, folding up as though being near him would leave a dent on my skin. “Really? This is what it is now? Playing hard to get?”I raised my gaze to him. Hatred and fury dripped from it. “You don’t have to look at me that way. I didn’t kill anyone,” he said; but rather than wipe the glare, I kept looking at him. He cussed, raking his fingers through his hair, ruffling it up. “Look

Vincenzo MorenoLuigi's chant of victory shot out, joining the glaringly red 'defeat' icon to mock me. All I did was wish the game ended. "I'm really beating your ass tonight," he chirped, the glee evident in his voice. "You sure are." I wondered if he heard the disinterest in my voice; then again, I didn't care. "Yo. You okay?" Instead of replying, I went for the next round. Was I okay? Did I look like I was okay when not only Rina had rejected me, but also her mom barging in on us. Looking at me like I didn't deserve one tiny breath of air. The sad thought lingered in my mind for a while; pretty soon, I found myself focused on the combat game and began gaining control over Luigi. My avatar tossed his around like a plaything. I gamed until the thought reemerged. Rina's outright rejection. Rina pushing me away. The thought pierced my heart and broke it. Made me feel like a discarded pile of nobody. It didn't matter that I had apologized. None of that bothered her. Yet, nothin

UnknownDelicious sounds danced their way into my ear, touching every corner of the studio and giving me a high. That was one reason psychedelic rock was my favorite. It was a safe drug. I didn't have to worry about any health problems or the police. Apart from my sweet, juicy music, a nice warm male voice streamed from the laptop on the table. I was at a point in my life where I questioned my sexuality. I'd thought I was straight; however, a lot made it seem otherwise. A lot like now when I cherished the voice I heard. It was deep, strong, an epitome of masculinity…Okay, I wouldn't fool myself any more. I wasn't attracted to the voice, but the message that was delivered instead. It, together with my hallucinatory music put me on top of the world. "Flight 224JF of Gaspare Moreno Airway suffered a bomb attack this afternoon. The flight which was destined for Bangkok was the target for a suicide bomber. Many are feared dead; others in critical condition. Cherry Hilton joins us live

Vincenzo MorenoVial di Moreno stretched ahead. As always, monstrous looking. Not even the enchanting hands of spring could transform it. I glanced across the windshield, taking in the long array of olive trees to the patchy shadow cast in the floor by the leaves, to the far end of the boulevard—showcasing a glimpse of the pack house. That haunting yellow building. The day was bright. It could turn hellishly dark in some minutes. Pressing on the gas pedal, I crept in. The only thing I consciously did, apart from driving, was to hold my breath. Whatever happened in the next three minutes or so, I'd remain strong. Not exactly for myself, but someone. The worst wouldn't happen to me; rather her. And that was why I'd come. To stay by her side and defend. I'd take the full responsibility and further spite Madre. I'd make Rina understand that I was serious. I meant it when I'd said she mattered to me. We would figure out a way out of this weird pregnancy thing. Getting to the main entra

Rina ZanteFiona's son had dropped me off just at the station. I needn't say much for Fiona to make that arrangement. My ruse was to see a relative of mine who'd kicked against my supposed relationship with Andrea. I wanted to patch things up. My wishes had been granted—only that there was no relative, and here I was roaming around the streets of Villa-in-Pietra, a town four hours from Florence, with no hope of a place to lay my head, let alone food. And I was extremely hungry. Fiona had said Bologna was three hours away… I couldn't say. Maybe that was a slip of the tongue. Villa-in-Pietra. I couldn't believe it: the extent Luna could go in preserving her image. She'd separated Mamma and me from the rest of the world— a stone-faced guard, as our only company. I couldn't say I totally faulted Luna. I mean, she must be living her worst nightmare. Her son had laid with a maid, claiming she was his mate. Wow fuckety wow, if I were Papà. Such a revelation. Such a twist. And the fool