Bite The Bullet (A Mafia Story)

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦

       "Does married cunt feel better or are you just an asshole?" 

       Marcello reclined into his chair with a drooping movement, punctuating his speech with the peal of his whiskey to the end table. Vincenzo watched—with great envy—his brother's display of impunity: his shut eyes and languid breaths swirling through the balmy summer air. Perhaps if Vincenzo possessed the two years of seniority Marcello had, their father would consider him of the same regard. 

       Perhaps. The word fluttered against the privy of his incisors.

       "Well?" Marcello repeated. Vincenzo frowned.

       "He and his wife are separated," He replied tartly, "divorce takes time, Marcel, but they aren't together anymore."

       Marcello looked upon him with delight, flexing his features into an inimical grin. 

       "You're right." His brother tapped his finger to his chin, "As long as he knows he's still a fling at the end of the day."

       "I will marry him," Vincenzo retorted. 

        Marcello shook his head. 

        "Not if you want to keep this family's dignity intact."

        Sunlight caught on his temple, grading his hairline as he leaned forward. His face, which nearly always remained with a smile etched into its tan surface, had become alarmingly stern. 

       "Vince," He warned quietly, "If you really love him then you'll find a way to keep him as far away from you as possible."