Page 22 of Bittersweet Endings (Agostino Crime Family #6)

MATTEO RAGETTI

T he night had been uneventful, but none of us were at ease. Each of my brothers had something weighing on their minds, and the silence in the room was heavier than usual.

Then Carmine’s phone lit up. He glanced down, and I caught the name flashing across the screen. AJ.

His expression sharpened as he answered, his voice low but tense. “What?” A pause. Then his jaw locked. “Where?”

I sat forward, watching the shift in his demeanor. Whatever AJ said had Carmine gripping his glass tighter, his knuckles going white.

“Keep her there,” he ordered. “Don’t let her leave.”

Octavia. I didn’t need to hear the rest of the conversation to know it was about her. Carmine ended the call and shot up from his seat, already moving.

“You’re really gonna do this?” I asked, pushing off the couch. “Are you ready to finally claim this girl?”

He didn’t answer.

“Carmine.”

Still nothing. He strode past me, grabbing his keys off the table, his movements clipped and precise. The conversation was over before it had even started.

The roar of his car engine filled the night as he threw himself inside, blasting rock music loud enough to shake the windows. It was deliberate. A wall between him and the questions he refused to answer.

I hopped into the passenger seat. “What’re you doing, Carmine?” My older brother thought he had everything figured out.

He didn’t. He was too involved with a fight that was going to kill him. His judgment was clouded. His head wasn’t in the right space. Usually, I was able to bring him back to the present. Not anymore.

Someone else was causing him too much damage, absorbing his attention. The problem with the entire situation wasn’t the fact that he’d fallen for the enemy’s daughter. No. It was that he felt like he couldn’t face it. That denial made him sloppy. Put us all at risk.

Thwarting my attempts at speaking to him, he continued to drown the car in angry rock metal and cigarette smoke. Lorenzo was a big kid… an idiot when he wanted to be. He couldn’t care less that our family was being held on by a thread. But not Carmine. He was the rock in all the bullshit.

“What’re you doing, Carmine?” I repeated the same question I knew he’d be unwilling to answer.

The car pulled up outside a club and hordes of people were lined up trying to get in. We headed to the front, but not without pissing off a small crowd. They started throwing insults. We paid them no mind. Normally.

My brother lost his composure and his hand spun out from under his shirt. The Glock waved around at the crowd, and the screams echoed down the block.

I grabbed Carmine’s wrist. “Put. It. Away.”

He shrugged me loose and tucked the gun back into his waistband.

“The hell is wrong with you? We have enough eyes on us after that mess in New York.”

My brother was many things, but until recently, rash wasn’t one of them. Since he took the Agostino girl, he’d been a mess. She was supposed to be revenge, but she was something more now, wasn’t she?

The worst parts of my father were the pieces of Carmine I hated.

We all were fucked up because of the old man’s lack of parenting skills, but Carmine had protected us.

He’d taken the brunt of it. And with it came his own form of chaos and a brutality that would ensure il famiglia survived once he took over.

It was those parts that caused Octavia pain. At the same time, the parts of my brother that protected his siblings, the people he loved, were protecting her as well. The issue was the back and forth was killing him. He couldn’t focus on JP when his mind was constantly on her.

The club was packed but we marched right inside and up the stairs. People gave us a wide berth. Between Lorenzo’s size and Carmine’s murderous glare, they were smart enough to let us be.

Carmine darted towards AJ. “The fuck is she?”

“Center VIP room. Her guards are in there.” He paused. “And her brother—the little one.”

Marco Agostino wasn’t little by any means. Kid wasn’t as large as Carmine and certainly not Lorenzo. But he could hold his own.

I grabbed my brother’s arm. “We shouldn’t be here. ”

“What? Thought you wanted to party?” Carmine nodded towards Lorenzo, who was talking to a half-naked shot girl.

Disregarding me while not wanting to face the issue he knew he was causing, Carmine then climbed the stairs. We shouldn’t have been here. Her mere presence was sending him over the edge and I couldn’t allow that to happen. My intuition told me this wasn’t going to end well.

The door opened and Carmine waited, but no one stopped him. So he stepped inside and disappeared as I hung back, confused. Not hearing any raised voices, I then followed him and froze.

Cold steel pressed to the side of my head, and the door slammed closed.

Marco Agostino sneered in my face, forcing the gun harder into my skull.

Carmine had his hands at his sides while Rocco’s barrel was aimed between his eyes.

Except my stupid-ass brother didn’t have his focus on the immediate threat.

Nope. His glare was glued to the largest threat in the room.

Octavia. Agostino. My brother’s poison.

“Hello.” She stood, turning to place her drink on the bar. “How have you been, Carmine? Last time I saw you…” Her face glowed red.

Carmine was practically beating down an invisible door between them. Her dress was as tight as a second skin. Backless too. But even from the front, the way her full breasts pressed against the thin fabric told you she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“I was great, Octavia.”

Rocco pushed Carmine back when he tried moving forward.

“Until I learned my little doll was partying it up in my city.”

“Ruined your night, did I?” she mocked. “I’d say it’s a pity but there’s nothing here for you.”

“Just a fuckin’ bullet,” Rocco growled .

“Why are you here, Carmine?” she asked before looking to me, her words softening slightly. “Good to see you, Matteo.”

A moment passed between us, no doubt each of us remembering how I’d saved her from Carmine’s cruel hands. Yet I couldn’t find myself feeling sorry for what was about to happen.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Marco hissed in my face. “You touched my sister and now?—”

“No. Matteo didn’t. He protected me from this… beast.” Octavia motioned to Carmine.

“You. Liked. It. No, you fuckin’ loved it, little doll.”

Rocco was losing his cool and Marco looked two seconds away from killing us all.

“I did.” Octavia stepped closer. “And now. We’re done. You can go.”

The clear dismissal was like a bullet to Carmine’s chest. He rocked back. Marco opened the door, telling me to fuck off. But I wasn’t leaving my brother.

“We’ll never be done, Octavia.” Carmine grinned. And it was interesting that she didn’t react negatively to his pet name but looked affronted when he used her real name. “You belong to me.”

“Not anymore.” She glanced at Marco.

“We both know your little brother doesn’t want to know all the intimate details.” Carmine ignored Rocco’s cursing, as the glorified bodyguard tried to step between them. “Every. Inch. You took. Like a. Good. Girl.”

Fucker had a death wish. But I guess when you loved someone, you didn’t care much about life or death.

Bored with the conversation, I struck out fast. My elbow landed in the youngest Agostino’s rib—I’d assumed he’d go down quickly.

Instead, he moved at the last second to avoid a full blow before countering with a fast raise of his gun.

I shoved his wrist into the air. He fired once and chaos ensued.

More men entered the room, and my gaze flicked to the side.

Where Rocco and Carmine were throwing fists.

My brother could handle his own, but my concern rose when I saw him trying to get the girl.

Marco and I were somewhat evenly matched, but he gave as good as I delivered. We grappled for a few minutes before an uppercut to his chin sent him falling onto his back, his brain rattled. I loomed over him, and he fought hard as I tried gaining control of the gun.

“Fuck.” Rocco flew across the room, colliding head-first with the wall, and then he was out cold.

“What’re you doing, little doll?”

Even though I could hear him, my focus wasn’t on my brother, but on the barrel of the gun that was at a ninety-degree angle, ready to kill the youngest son of my enemy.

“Enough, Matteo. Let him go,” Octavia demanded.

I was going to ignore her. Until I noticed her posture in her heels and designer dress. And that she was aiming a gun to the back of Carmine’s head. His arms raised as he watched me for a moment. My beloved brother, the strength of our family was gone. In his place was a madman, driven by lust.

“Now, now, little doll,” he mocked her. “Let’s not be hasty here. We all know you’re shaking in that slutty dress.”

She smacked him upside the back of his head, but he barely moved.

With my attention elsewhere, Marco moved and the gun slid across the floor, out of reach. His face was mottled with bruises, but he was smiling. Blood coating his teeth. “Let’s go, motherfucker.”

“Marco, enough. Matteo, get off him,” Octavia commanded.

I slowly stood with my hands raised above my head, and that was when I saw just how lost my brother was .

If I believed in the concept, Carmine’s obsession could be a sign of love.

In reality, whatever it was, was unraveling him.

His fixation was something much darker, something that went beyond typical romantic longing.

Stalking, especially to the extent Carmine was doing it, was almost always linked to deeper issues.

And if I had to guess, those issues were thanks to JP.

My big brother hadn’t been diagnosed—nor tested—with anything, but it was obvious he was slipping.

His focus on her was consuming him, changing him.

The man I once knew, strong and composed, had become increasingly erratic.

And instead of feeling motivated or fulfilled, he was frustrated, and it was only getting worse.

The more he clung to the idea of her, the more he fell apart. His obsession was pulling him in directions that were damaging. His loss of control was hard to watch. I was unsure how I was supposed to help him when he couldn’t see past his obsession and just claim her.

And my brother was beyond obsessed.

“I’m fine,” Octavia told her bodyguard, and Rocco rose to his full height, his attention on her again. “Do me a favor and clear the room.”

“Good seeing you, little doll,” Carmine grunted.

“Not you. You. Stay,” she was quick to tell him.

The intrigue on his face wasn’t good for any of us.

My brother wasn’t a man easily defeated—in fact, he never had been.

But it was difficult to win a game you were unequipped to play.

We didn’t have a healthy association with love in our family.

In fact, outside of the love and dedication we had for each other, we’d never seen a healthy relationship.

And ours was a bond built from birth. Later forged through pain and suffering as we fought to protect each other .

“No,” I barked, and Octavia turned to look at me. “No, we’re leaving. Now.” My fingertips grazed the gun at my back.

The pinched face of an angry woman wouldn’t normally concern me. Octavia wasn’t just some angry woman, though. Her predisposition for pulling a crazy stunt had my hair raised.

“You’re not—” Marco went to step towards me, and I drew my weapon.

“We are,” I responded. Then I pulled the trigger rapidly, taking down two of her security detail.

Carmine shuffled back towards me, his hands still raised, while he was clearly uninterested in the game ending just yet.

“I’m gonna kill you for that,” Rocco growled at me.

“Dig a little deeper into your men.” I motioned at the two bodies. “They were tied to JP.”

His mouth dropped open, and I ushered Carmine towards the door again. Unable to be out done, he reached out and tried grabbing for Octavia. Her shot went wild, hitting the floor and forcing us to move out faster.

“See you soon, little doll,” he called out over a shoulder.

“I’m sure.” Octavia’s exhausted expression was the last thing we saw as the door closed behind us.

“Carmine, you’re in over your head.”

He ignored me as we walked out of the club. A man lost to the woman he loved. As if we didn’t have enough shit on our hands.