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"I'll pay for my own shit."
"You are a fucking child. What business do you have that can cover the cost of the place you are staying in? Are you fucking stupid?" I am quickly losing control.
"You stay out of my business, and I'll stay out of yours. I'm not interested in helping at the casino. It's small change compared to what I can achieve." Matteo's narrowed eyes pierce into me with hatred. His fist clenches and unclenches as he stands challenging me.
He picked the wrong day to try and push his luck with me.
I may have acted calm in front of Amelia, but the emotions raged in me when I saw her again - they were wild and untamed. They were brutal. They started to rip at my insides again because she is still the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and no matter what I told myself, I still wanted her. I wanted her to marry me, and I want her now.
I push the thoughts aside, shooting death glares at my half brother.
"You arrogant little prick," I say as I rush at him, all of my frustration coming out in one raging moment. I grab his collar and lift him up, slamming him back down onto the desk.
"Get the fuck off me." He shouts as my fist slams into his jaw, then his left eye, then his jaw again. His words fade away to a gurgled sound.
A wet choking sob erupts from his mouth when I release him and he rolls off my desk, landing hard on the office floor and spitting blood all over the tile.
"Get up," I demand. "Clean yourself up."
"Fuck you." He spits again and more blood splats across the tile.
I go around my desk and sit down in front of my computer to do what I came here to do. I have to email some clients and check on the shipment schedule for tomorrow.
I ignore Matteo as he rolls onto his back and groans loudly, pressing his hand against his mouth which is swelling blue.
When I am done with the email and documents I stand up and nudge Matteo with my foot. "Get the fuck up." He opens his eyes.
"I have a fucking headache."
Walking over to my desk again I grab a bottle of pills and throw them at him.
He pops the cap and swallows a handful.
"Now get up."
He pushes himself to his feet and dusts his blood-stained shirt off.
"There's a fresh shirt in the cupboard there."
"No thanks."
I grab his collar and pull his face close to mine.
"Put the fucking shirt on because you aren't going to the casino looking like shit."
He rolls his eyes and pulls his mouth tight, but he does as he's told.
I wait impatiently as he slowly buttons the shirt, knowing he is annoying me.
When he's done, I push him out of the office. "Let's go. I have other things to do."
I walk with him out to the parking lot where the car is parked, and he doesn't say a word. He's furious. His ego is wounded. I don't give a fuck. He needs to learn his place. He needs to learn how to respect the hand that feeds him.
The gravel of the parking lot, crunching beneath our shoes, is the only sound we hear. We are about halfway between the warehouse door and our vehicles, walking through the parking lot, when the first gunshot splits the air with a deafening snap.
I immediately drop to my knees behind one of the worker's old Camaro and cover my head, grabbing Matteo on the way. He might drive me crazy, but I definitely don't want him getting shot.
The shooting continues as bullets slam into the cars around us. Each one hits with a loud, threatening thud. I hear men shouting at each other from around us.
