The Enemy in My Bed by LK Shaw

Author:LK Shaw [Shaw, L. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LK Shaw

Chapter 18

Pierce

* * *

Raised voices reach me through the front door of the house. I quickly unlock it and push the thing open hard enough that it crashes against the wall, bouncing back toward me. I barrel forward into the living room. The yelling comes to an abrupt halt, as do I.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to speak to your mother?” The woman in question sniffs with disdain.

Sofia De Luca is dressed in her usual pristine white pantsuit, without a single wrinkle, and matching heels. She’s covered in diamonds from the gaudy, shoulder-length dangling earrings to six of her ten fingers. The sneer on her face as she stares down her nose at me completes the outfit.

“You only seem to remember you’re a mother when it’s convenient for you.” I glance at Francesca, who’s beet-red with rage, and whose eyes sparkle with unshed tears, whether from anger or pain. With the viper in front of me, it could be either. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Why the hell had Chess let her in?

“I heard that gutter trash was getting out of the hospital soon, and I wanted to make sure Francesca stayed away from him. He needs to stop sniffing around her.”

My sister growls. “Don’t you dare talk about Gio like that.”

“I can speak about him any way I wish. That boy is trash, and will remain trash, no matter how far he tries to reach,” my mother says.

My fists clench at my side. “Don’t act like you suddenly care who your daughter is friends with. And if you continue to speak ill of Giovanni in front of Francesca, then I will personally throw you out of here. This is my house, and you know you’re not welcome here.”

She stares at me with the cold eyes I inherited from her. “You haven’t changed a bit while you were gone. Don’t think because Emilio is now head of this organization that it gives you some type of power. You’re still that weak little boy. You always will be. Threatening your own mother only proves it.”

With those words she strides out the door with her nose in the air. If she were less dignified, she would probably slam it behind her. But Sofia De Luca is nothing if not the façade of class she presents to the world.

“She’s wrong, you know. God, I hate her,” she spits.

Francesca’s heated words make me turn back to her. If anyone has a right to their hatred, it’s us.

“She’s not worth wasting the emotion on,” I shake my head. “Why did you let her in? You know how she is.”

My sister drops onto the couch with a sigh. “Do you ever think people can change? Or at least, you wish they would?”

“No,” I tell her. “People are who they are. They might pretend to be someone else, but deep down, they’re always going to be exactly who and what they’ve always been.”

It’s true. No matter the image I present, the minute I’m in my mother’s presence, I revert back to that weak little boy she claims me to be.

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