Match Made In Hell || ongoing

Chapter 22~ Silvio

Edited

Heyyyy, hope you all enjoy this chapter and when this gets over 100 comments i'll post the next chapter as it's already written and just needs to be edited so make sure to comment tonsss and vote yall!!

Alessio Morana

I run a hand through my hair as I throw the rest of the bourbon down my throat, smiling at the way it burns it way down and letting out a small sigh when I place the now empty class on the desk.

The muffled music of the club becomes louder for just a few seconds when the door opens and Grant walks in, "are you going to sit here sulking all week?" He asks, his tone bitter and I scoff as he slams the door shut and sits on the couch.

This is the only building I own my father won't dare come into, he hates settings like this, loud music, people grinding and dancing all over each other and drinks being poured left and right. I don't prefer being here either if I'm being honest but the office on the second floor I have is the only place I can be alone.

Until Grant finds me.

"I'm not sulking, I have nothing to sulk about." I tell him and he pours himself a drink, bringing the bottle towards me and refilling my glass before looking at me weirdly.

He brings his glass to his lips before sitting in the chair on the other side of this desk and letting out a sigh, "your wife is probably planning on how she could kill you, you have that marriage announcement party your dad is forcing on you, you look like shit, your father is looking around for you and it's only a few more lonely hours before he comes looking for you in here and worst of all..." he pauses to take a sip of his drink, his hand pulling his tie loose as he finishes the liquor in the glass just to pour himself more.

"You've spent the past week avoiding your own house because you don't want to see Valencia and she is doing whatever she wants without you there," he tells me and my eyebrows shoot up at the last part, ignoring his other words.

He leans back in the chair crossing his feet on my desk and lets out a small whistle, "when I went over today I saw the sexiest car in your driveway, an Aston Martin Valkyrie. Your wife has good taste, 3 million dollars worth of it." He drowns the rest of his drink and I can't help but do the same as his words register in my head.

It's not about the money, or even about how she fucking got it. I have enough money for her to play with but what I know will bother my father more than it does me is the freedom I've let her have by not going home for the past week.

I've seen my bank statements, my house cameras and even heard from guards but I've been ignoring it. Ignoring everything.

Before I could speak the door swings open and the second Grant sees who walks through it his feet push off my desk and he straightens up with a clearing of his throat. "I don't understand how you enjoy this place," my father fixes his blazer as he barges in and sits on the chair beside the one Grant sits on.

Grant gives me a 'I told you so' look and I glare at him before sitting straight in my chair and pushing the liquor filled glass away from myself.

"Did you need something?" I ask him and his eyes blaze with warning when he hears my tone but all I do is open the screen of my mac. "Have you done what I told you to? Take the next steps?" He asks me and my eyes fall to the bottom corner of the screen. December 20th.

Only 15 more days until the day I dread every year comes along, the day my sister was murdered by our mother on January fourth. The day everything was ruined.

"I'm working on it," I reply to my father and he shakes his head in disapproval but I could care less at this point, he acts like it never happened. These two weeks I always lose control of myself, I allow myself to slip away knowing her death was my fault and what does that man do? Nothing, not one tear, he doesn't even call me to ask how I'm doing let alone think about what happened.