Page 97
Story: Fight Me Little Pearl
I’d prefer it if he is upset and raging at me, but Valentino isn’t doing any of that. There’s no venom in his voice, only a detached indifference that slices my heart.
“Nothing.” I push away from the table and march up the stairs. Before I round the bend, I chance another look at him, but he isn’t looking my way. His attention is now on his phone!
Now that Valentino no longer pays me any attention, I realize just how much attention he used to give me and how he was always all over me. I could never pass by him without him touching me or slapping my butt. His eyes were always on me as long as I was in the room.
Now, he plainly doesn’t care.
He’s withdrawn into himself.
Okay, I’ll admit, I was wrong for comparing him to Thomas, but he let that slut dance on him and who knows what else happened afterwards? This is not my fault, and I won’t be apologizing. If he wants to stay mad, I don’t care.
I’m in the hallway leading to my old bedroom when a wave of nausea envelopes me. My eyes widen as vomit rises up my throat. Immediately, I run into my room and head straight for the toilet, puking my stomach contents into the closet. For the next couple of moments, I hang my head over the toilet. My face is covered in beads of sweat as I flush it down. I sit on the cold floor for a few minutes before I rise to rinse my mouth.
I’ve been feeling sick for a few days now, confirming that I need to see a doctor. Not today, though. I’ve always hated hospitals, and today, I’m in a foul mood. The last place I want to be is a hospital. I’d rather go shopping with Louisa, and then see a movie after.
I change into a casual outfit and am about to leave the room when there’s a knock on my door. It’s one of the servants. She smiles politely when I open the door.
“Hello?” I smile back. “How can I help you?”
“Signore Roberto Barone is waiting to see you downstairs. I have shown him to the living room.”
“Thank you. Tell him I’ll be down to see him shortly.”
“Okay, Signora.” She hurries off.
I groan in irritation because the last thing I want is to see another Barone family member. After the cruel stunt Federico pulled, it’s now clear that they’re a dysfunctional family.
To keep him waiting, I deliberately stall another few minutes before going downstairs. He’s sitting on one of the wingback chairs and rushes to his feet when I walk in.
“Signora Barone,” he says formally. “Good morning.”
I keep my expression neutral. “Good morning, Roberto.”
“Federico is in the hospital,” he says. “Valentino stabbed him in the thigh.”
To my surprise, I feel nothing. No guilt. No pity. No remorse. Nothing.
“He deserved it,” I say coldly.
“I agree,” Roberto continues. “For what he did to you and Valentino. I half thought Valentino would kill him, and he would have still deserved it.”
“What do you want me to say, Roberto?”
Roberto smiles. “You’ve met Serena, haven’t you?”
“Yes. I met her once. She’s Federico’s wife.”
“Yes, she is. She is also the unhappiest wife married into the Barone family.”
“What?”
“Federico cheats on her with every female that walks past him,” he says. “He’s a chronic cheat.”
“Are you any better? Is Valentino any better?”
“Me? No. But Valentino? Yes.”
I laugh cynically, but he doesn’t.
“Nothing.” I push away from the table and march up the stairs. Before I round the bend, I chance another look at him, but he isn’t looking my way. His attention is now on his phone!
Now that Valentino no longer pays me any attention, I realize just how much attention he used to give me and how he was always all over me. I could never pass by him without him touching me or slapping my butt. His eyes were always on me as long as I was in the room.
Now, he plainly doesn’t care.
He’s withdrawn into himself.
Okay, I’ll admit, I was wrong for comparing him to Thomas, but he let that slut dance on him and who knows what else happened afterwards? This is not my fault, and I won’t be apologizing. If he wants to stay mad, I don’t care.
I’m in the hallway leading to my old bedroom when a wave of nausea envelopes me. My eyes widen as vomit rises up my throat. Immediately, I run into my room and head straight for the toilet, puking my stomach contents into the closet. For the next couple of moments, I hang my head over the toilet. My face is covered in beads of sweat as I flush it down. I sit on the cold floor for a few minutes before I rise to rinse my mouth.
I’ve been feeling sick for a few days now, confirming that I need to see a doctor. Not today, though. I’ve always hated hospitals, and today, I’m in a foul mood. The last place I want to be is a hospital. I’d rather go shopping with Louisa, and then see a movie after.
I change into a casual outfit and am about to leave the room when there’s a knock on my door. It’s one of the servants. She smiles politely when I open the door.
“Hello?” I smile back. “How can I help you?”
“Signore Roberto Barone is waiting to see you downstairs. I have shown him to the living room.”
“Thank you. Tell him I’ll be down to see him shortly.”
“Okay, Signora.” She hurries off.
I groan in irritation because the last thing I want is to see another Barone family member. After the cruel stunt Federico pulled, it’s now clear that they’re a dysfunctional family.
To keep him waiting, I deliberately stall another few minutes before going downstairs. He’s sitting on one of the wingback chairs and rushes to his feet when I walk in.
“Signora Barone,” he says formally. “Good morning.”
I keep my expression neutral. “Good morning, Roberto.”
“Federico is in the hospital,” he says. “Valentino stabbed him in the thigh.”
To my surprise, I feel nothing. No guilt. No pity. No remorse. Nothing.
“He deserved it,” I say coldly.
“I agree,” Roberto continues. “For what he did to you and Valentino. I half thought Valentino would kill him, and he would have still deserved it.”
“What do you want me to say, Roberto?”
Roberto smiles. “You’ve met Serena, haven’t you?”
“Yes. I met her once. She’s Federico’s wife.”
“Yes, she is. She is also the unhappiest wife married into the Barone family.”
“What?”
“Federico cheats on her with every female that walks past him,” he says. “He’s a chronic cheat.”
“Are you any better? Is Valentino any better?”
“Me? No. But Valentino? Yes.”
I laugh cynically, but he doesn’t.
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