All Chapters of FALLING FOR THE WRONG BROTHER: THIRTY DAYS IN HELL : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

24 Chapters

A life of my own.

Luca Mariani POVThe dialysis ward smells like antiseptic and I hate this smell. I've hated it for two years and I hate it the same amount every single time.My mother is in the third bed from the window. She looks smaller than last week. She always looks smaller than last week. Her eyes find me the moment I push through the door and something in her face lifts."You came.""I said I would."I pull the chair close and sit. Her hand is cool when I take it. The machine beside her hums steady and indifferent, doing the work her kidneys stopped doing."You look tired," she says."I'm fine.""Luca.""I'm fine, Mama."She looks at me with squinteed by steady eyes. I look back at her and keep my face easy because that's what I do in this room. I keep it easy and I stay an hour and I don't let her see the number I'm about to hand over at the billing desk.Sofia is in the corner chair with her phone. Twenty two years old, dark hair like mine, earphones in. She pulls one out when she notices me

Don’s property.

Luca Mariani PovEverything happens fast.The curtain moves and Matteo steps in fully and the air in the room changes immediately. The man beside me scrambles back, sheet pulled to his chest, eyes going wide with the specific terror of someone who recognises a face they didn't expect to see here."Don Rossi—"Matteo doesn't look at him. He looks at me."Get out," he says, quiet. Almost bored.The man is already reaching for his clothes. Hands shaking, trousers inside out, shoes held rather than worn. He's moving for the curtain when Matteo's hand comes up.The gun appears from nowhere. Matteo raises it slowly, almost lazily, turning it once near his mouth like he's thinking. The man freezes completely."I didn't know," he says. Voice cracking. "Don Rossi I swear I didn't know he was your property. If I had known I would never have crossed. You know I respect—""Before I turn to your direction….," Matteo says.“Grazie Don. Grazie Capo.”. The man genuflets and nods so fast it looks pain

“Papa!!”

Luca Mariani POVI feel the floor cold underneath me and because I've been sitting here long enough to feel it through my clothes.My hands have stopped shaking which is something. I press the back of my head against the wall and stare at the ceiling and breathe the way you breathe when your body is still deciding if the danger has passed.It has passed. Well, probably.The knife is gone, the gun is gone. Matteo is gone. What's left is this room and the sandalwood smell mixed with the sound of the club warming up two floors below, bass starting to pulse through the walls like a slow heartbeat.Property?I'm sure that man said it without thinking. But he threw it out like it was already established fact, like everyone in the room already knew and he was the last to find out.But Matteo didn't correct him. Why?I pull my knees up and rest my arms across them. Think about that. Really think about it for the first time since my back hit that wall and rational thought went somewhere else e

The lost boy.

Matteo Rossi's pov: I stand by the window, the air smells like smoke which ofcourse was coming from the cigar between my second and third finger. The wind still blows fresh air, occasionally— which slaps my face reminding me that the world is not a good place. It is cruel. I had purposely planned to walk in on Luca. Not to kill him not toture him. Though I don't guarantee not to. I intended to coax him since little naive Alessandro won't think with his head.It was almost the same with Nico. I don't care where he'd met that mother fucker. Not only Nico. There was a handful of others too. Now, I'm left with no option but to send my dearest regards to Nico. Maybe Alessandro haven't learnt the hard way enough. He thinks I'm after scaring people away from him. Poor boy. At his age I was commanding two times older men who got my jobs done. I lift my right hand to my mouth drag in air into my lungs and release my hand. Things would have been better off if I'd looked into this playthin

Unknown number

Alessandro Rossi POVThe wine is a 2019 Barolo. Half empty. The papers spread across the coffee table have stopped making sense twenty minutes ago but I'm still staring at them anyway.Frankfurt projections. Rome property assessments. Three sites, two viable, one that needs a decision by Thursday or Benedetti walks in and takes it without blinking.I uncap my pen. Draw a line through the third site. Done.I refill my glass. This is how I work best; airy surroundings with absolute tranquility. The house settled around me, Marco should be gone for the day probably with Matteo. It's Just me and the papers and the wine on my table.I'm circling a figure in the Frankfurt terms when my phone buzzes.Unknown number.I frown at it. Unknown numbers are either wrong numbers or things I don't want. I almost leave it.I reply anyway. __ Who is this? __Three minutes pass. I go back to the Frankfurt terms. But the phone buzzes again.An address. That's all. No name. No context. Just a street and

Mama Rossi

Matteo Rossi POV"Is this how my boys behave when I'm not watching?”“Mother?” Alessandro's voice came out loud as his eyes shone. “Welcome Mama.” I let out a grin, bending slightly. I watch her scoff, walking towards the door that led out of my chambers. "Marco.""Don Rossi.""Tell me those are not her bags coming through my front door."Marco turns to look at the entrance where Giulia and the driver are ferrying in luggage. One bag. Two. A third that appears to require two hands."They are her bags sir.""How many.""Currently three. The driver went back down."I close my eyes for exactly one second. Open them. "Where is she heading?""Kitchen."Of course. The kitchen. She has not been in this apartment for up to four minutes and she is already in the kitchen which means by morning everything will have been rearranged and there will be food I didn't ask for and the entire household will be operating on her schedule rather than mine without anyone being able to explain exactly how

Naples

Luca Mariani POVI sit at the stool by my mother's bed. The dialysis machine beat frantically. The world outside the window is different — the light here is warmer, heavier, the kind that sits on everything like it has nowhere urgent to be — but in here it's the same ward, same smell, same chair that's slightly too hard on the left side.I've been sitting in it for two hours with a book open on my knee that I haven't read a single page of."You're not reading," my mother says."I'm reading.""You've been on the same page since I woke up."I look down at the page. She's right. I turn it anyway.She makes a sound that is not quite a laugh."How's the project," she asks. "The library building.""Coming along.""You said that last week.""It's still true."She shifts against her pillow. Her colour is better today, slightly, the way it gets mid-session when the machine has been working long enough to make a visible difference. I notice these things now. I've been noticing them for two year

Hired by Lorenzo Vitale.

Damiano Romano POV: Volkovino restaurant is the kind of place that doesn't put prices on the menu. Which means whoever is paying isn't worried about the number at the bottom of the bill. I ordered their pasta and the good wine.I swirl the glass and watch the door. After having refiled my glass for the unkempt time I sight a figure in well manicured suit stepping out of a blue SUV. He buttoned his suit, when he turned his black glasses made him look more cold and deadly. It should be him. He's ten minutes late. It kinda screams, tells me he's the kind of man who makes people wait just long enough to feel it without being rude enough to complain about. I've met that kind before. Usually they're either very important or very insecure. Sometimes both.The door opens.He walks into the room in a slow, detailed step. No pause at the entrance, no scanning the room. Straight to the table. He had no tie, the particular ease of someone who has never once in his life wondered if he was dress

Damiano

19. .Luca Mariani's Pov. The corridor outside the ward smells like every hospital corridor in every city. That particular mix of cleaning fluid and recycled air that I have apparently decided is just part of my life now.I lean against the wall. Phone to my ear.It rings twice."Luca."Alessandro's voice comes through immediately and something about hearing it after two weeks of avoiding it does something unexpected to my chest. Not guilt exactly. More complicated than guilt."Hey," I say.A pause. Short. He's deciding where to start."Where are you," he says."Naples. Hospital. My mother's session runs another forty minutes.""How is she.""Stable." I look at the window at the end of the corridor. Naples afternoon light sitting heavy and golden on the rooftops outside. "She's stable.""Good." Another pause. Longer this time. "Luca I went to your apartment."I close my eyes briefly. "I know.""The door—""I know Alessandro."Silence."Did he threaten you," he says. Quiet. Direct. N

First move.

Damiano Romano POV"Talk to me about the brother.""Matteo Rossi." Lorenzo's voice comes through the phone even and unbothered. "What about him.""Everything in this file." I drop it on the hotel bed and walk to the window. Milan at night does what Milan always does — looks expensive and indifferent. "You told me Alessandro. You told me Luca. You didn't tell me the full weight of what Matteo Rossi actually means in this city.""Does it change anything.""It changes how carefully I move."A pause. Then: "Move carefully then."He hangs up.I stand at the window with the dead call in my hand and look at the city and think about the photograph in that file. Matteo Rossi at forty feet looking like he owns the air around him. Which he probably does.I've dealt with dangerous men before. Not this particular kind. The kind that has a name the city knows without needing to say it twice.I put the phone down and get dressed.***The bar Enzo drinks at after work is called Settimo. Ground floor

1 2 3

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP