My name is Eveline. Eveline Tate.
I am the daughter of Lucas and Rebecca Tate. Yup, THE Lucas and Becca Tate. Don't ask me why, but I grew up knowing that they are someone important. Uncle Mike is still working for dad, as his bodyguard. I used to...
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"Eve..." I mumble, trapped between sleep and waking but slowly sobering up and frowning when my vision clears and I see Feli staring down at me, sitting on the edge of the sofa where I've fallen asleep.
"Feli... what are you doing here?" I ask, pushing myself up, sitting next to her, and rubbing my hands on my face to push the sleep away.
"Good morning, Enzo," she says, tilting her head to one side and staring at me intensely.
She really sounds like my father. Fuck, she's scary sometimes! She was the only one of us who could have been the best Don if she weren't a woman.
"What brings you here?" I ask her again trying to clear my thoughts.
"Your call of yesterday," she replies in a cold voice.
I swear I feel sometimes there are two Felis inside of her, Feli, my amazing sister, and Feli, the feminine version of my father.
She stands up and walks to my desk, taking a cigarette, lighting it, and puffing the smoke up in the air, glaring out at the windows.
"It's the Valentinis," I say with a sigh and join her, taking a cigarette as well and sitting in my leather armchair.
She walks to the back of my chair, ruffling my hair like she's used to doing when being a kid in my father's home.
"Is this why Eve is in my house?" she asks, and I grip tighter the glass of whiskey I've just fixed for myself.
"Not exactly," I breathe out, thinking it's not the time to tell her yet. "Something to do with youth tantrums, I guess," I reply, curling down the corners of my lips, trying to sound detached from the subject. "But anyway, I need you to keep her safe for a while, until I'm done with the fucking Valentinis thing," I conclude, sipping from my glass and stiffening my muscles even harder.
"I see," she mumbles, nodding her head a few times. "I can do that," she confirms what I already know, putting off the cigarette bud in the ashtray. "Come on, I've made breakfast," she closes the subject, walking away towards the door.
"I don't want any," I say, sauntering to the minibar and filling a new glass for myself.
Probably my voice has not been a good incentive for her as she turns around, piercing me with her eyes and wearing an astounded face.
"No... Not again, Enzo," she mumbles in worry and walks back to me.
"I had to, Feli!" I shout, hitting the counter with the bottle, my hands shaking and breath racing.
I open more buttons on my shirt, heat burning my skin, hands shaking, and feeling cold shivers running up and down my spine. I'm sweating like shit, and I don't have air to breathe.
Feli grabs my hand and pulls me back to the sofa. I can't look into her eyes, because my eyes are busy rolling the movie of last night's events, the blood, the corpses, the stink of the warehouse filling my nostrils again.
