Page 40 of Ravage God

His eyes tightened. I knew he didn’t like my answer, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Our dad was a grown man. It wasn’t like Valentino could tell him not to drink in his own home, although I sometimes wished it could be as simple as that.

The door to the apartment opened, and Valentino and I both turned to see Elio standing there, holding what looked like a box of donuts.

He stopped when he noticed us staring at him.

“Everything alright?” he asked in his usual gruff voice that somehow managed to affect my heart.

“Yes,” Valentino said, signaling for him to come in. I took this time to look at him. He was wearing a casual outfit today, consisting of dark jeans, black boots, and a fitted, dark gray shirt that complemented his skin tone well. God, he was just so beautiful. Sometimes, it made my heart hurt to look at him.

My eyes moved up to his face, taking in his light-brown eyes, which seemed to glow golden in the morning sun, his dark, almost auburn hair, tied up in the usual bun, and his tan skin.I let my gaze fall to the neatly trimmed beard that had my hand itching to know what it would feel like.

I blinked when Elio turned his gaze to me, and I quickly went back to my breakfast, hoping I hadn’t been caught staring like a complete weirdo.

“How are you feeling, Isa?” Elio asked me. I glanced at him and smiled a little before going back to my food. He walked into the kitchen and placed the box of donuts down next to my plate.

“A good cure for a hangover,” he said lightly when he caught my eyes once more.

My smile froze on my face. Perhaps the image of seeing Elio last night with Matteo wasn’t a dream after all, but an actual memory. Elio turned away from me before I could react, and I looked down at my plate.

I could hear Valentino and Elio discussing something in the distance, but I wasn’t interested enough to pay attention. I was still reeling over the fact that my one decision had turned into something like this. More than that, Valentino was going to be keeping a closer eye on me from now on. I just knew it.

Valentino called out my name, bringing my attention back to him.

“I have to leave. But Elio is going to drive you home, okay?” He walked over to me, pressed a kiss on the top of my head, and was already walking away before I could respond. I tried to think of something I could say to get out of being in the same car as Elio, but before I could say anything, Valentino was out the door, leaving Elio and me alone.

And it felt so dangerous, somehow. I twisted in my seat, feeling awkward. I could sense Elio’s eyes on me.

With nothing to do with my hands, I reflexively opened the donut box, surveying the selection of donuts. Elio approached, his nearness radiating warmth and a familiar, comforting scent,messing with my mind a little more with every second that passed.

We didn’t say anything.

I took a small bite of the donut.

“You don’t have to drive me home,” I said finally. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck in the small space of the car with Elio. “I can call Tommaso or a taxi.”

He didn’t respond to me right away. I looked up and met his eyes, but I couldn’t tell what that look on his face meant. “I’m taking you home.”

His tone left no room for argument.

Still, I opened my mouth to do just that when he shot me a look and shook his head.

I let out a small sigh. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“Nothing is more important than you,” he answered gruffly.

I blinked. “What?”

“Are you done with your breakfast?” he asked, pointing down at my nearly empty plate. I nodded. He grabbed the plate and brought it to the sink. He stayed there for a beat, and I watched his back, taking in his solid form. He spoke without turning around to look at me. “Good. Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking yesterday, sneaking out like that?”

I didn’t answer him, not knowing what to say. He turned around and looked at me.

He didn't raise his voice when he asked it, and he didn't sound emotional, but his eyes…

I leaned back in my seat until I could feel the edge of the chair digging into my skin. He was angry at me.

I didn’t like it when he was angry with me, but I also didn’t like it when he questioned me like I was a little kid.

I glared at him.