CHAPTER SIXTEEN: WINTER
“IthinkIneed a doctor.”
I lean against the kitchen door, staring across the room at Vito. His head snaps up from where he appears to be making a sandwich. His brows pull together and concern etches across his features.
My cheeks warm.
I knew the second I became aware of my problem this morning that he was the only one I could turn to. Giovanni… I don’t know what he would have done, but I prefer not to engage him in conversation unless I absolutely have to.
Maximo would have just laughed, before likely making the situation even worse than it already is. And Enzo just would have turned me over to Maxixmo, giving me the same result as if I’d gone to the man himself.
So Vito had been my only option, and considering his job is to actually fix problems…
“What’s wrong?” he asks, placing the butter knife in his hand on the counter. He takes a step in my direction, reaching a hand out before pressing it to his side as if realizing touching me isn’t going to help.
My mouth goes dry and I look around the kitchen. Even though we’re the only two in here, I still don’t want to say the words out loud. It’d be just my luck that someone else walks in as I tell him what’s going on. I rub my cheek. “Can we go somewhere private? Do you have an office or some place?”
I’ve been in Giovanni’s office multiple times and I’ve heard Maximo’s office being mentioned before. But I’m unsure if Vito has one. Actually, I’m unsure if Vito actually lives here as well.
He’s always here, they’re all always here, but I’m almost certain that the mansion belongs to Giovanni.
“Yes, I have an office. We can go there to talk.” His lips twist to the side and that little furrow is still sitting between his brows. He moves to the counter, putting the unused knife away, closing up the loaf of bread, and returning the produce to the refrigerator.
I didn’t even realize people around here fixed their own food.
The thought is unimportant this morning, but I realize it's the first time I’ve seen someone other than Donna, the chef, cooking in the kitchen.
“This way,” Vito says, crossing the room and pushing open the kitchen door. He holds it open for me and I follow behind him as he leads me through the halls. We turn down a hallway in the opposite direction of Giovanni’s office.
Vito pulls a key from his pocket when we get to a door and he unlocks it. Next, he enters a number into the keypad on the door.
The lock clicks.
He steps inside, holding the door open for me as he steps out of the way.
The door closes behind us.
His office is much similar to Giovanni’s, except for the fact that books line each wall, from floor to ceiling on a wrap-around bookcase. I can’t make out too many titles, but I do see Hamlet and the Odyssey.
Vito moves over to his desk, sitting in his huge office chair. He gestures for me to sit in one of the chairs across from him but I shake my head.
He rubs his jaw with a thumb before propping his elbow on the desk. He doesn’t say anything, just watching me, and I get the sense that he’s trying to make me feel comfortable. Which is something I’m for from being capable of at the moment.
I shift from one foot to the other and when pain slices through me, it reminds me that if I don’t get my issue out on the table, it’s only going to get worst.
“I…” The words halt in my throat and my cheeks heat up.
Fuck.
“You can tell me anything, Winter. What is it?” he asks and the sincerity in his voice and words tugs at my heart.
How can he act concerned about me when he killed my mother?
I swallow at the thought. I haven’t been trying to think too much about Diamond’s revelation while I try to find proof. Amarie warned me that I needed to stay in control, to not tip my hand to the family and that included making sure not to latch out with anger.
So I just haven’t allowed myself to think of it.
But as I stare at Vito now, that anger threatens to rear its head. But so does disbelief.