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I hate the way the board—all people ere been handpicked byme down
I’m not Carmine Benenati, and I’m thankful for that fact every day But I’m still his blood, a fact inescapable even six months after his death
The e The very thought hauntsmoment, and sometimes my dreams, as well
Shuddering inwardly, I slah to shatter Catching the eye of the very attractive, very scantily clad waitress, I contemplate a second drink And possibly a quickie with her in the executive washroom
Anything to take the edge off But fro note of my intentions toward the pretty redhead, of the scotch that I drained too quickly
I can’t shoeakness in front of her, or it will cost me
“What the hell is taking so long?” Scowling, I shove away thoughts of another drink, of theemptiness of release, and push my way to my feet Elassed in door of the lounge, wanting—needing—some distraction
I barely have tier dressed in black sprints by, a large straw purse clutched tightly in his emaciated arms
“My purse! Thatto an elderly wolass door that separates the VIP lounge froh the airport with scowls on their faces just fine
Sucking in a breath, I push the glass door open It slaainst the ith such force it could break, but I don’t care—if it does, I’ll buy thehfro, to the older wo to rise from the floor
My instinct is to sprint after the young man who just callously preyed on the weak But a s me back
It’s not your problem, Matteo These people are beneath you Let them solve their own problems
That voice is Carmine’s, not mine But does it really matter?
“You’re not seriously thinking of playing the superhero, are you?” Behind h, the sound rich with amusement and condescension “Who are you and what have you done with my stepbrother?”
That decides it
“You could go help that old woman up,” I snap over my shoulder as I break into a run She won’t, I know she won’t, but someone will
I barely irl, really, younger thanout behind her
“I’ve got it!” She shouts as she pushes pastup speed Dio, but she’s fast, thestyle pants that girls like to wear