Chapter 17

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Aurora's POV

I popped my head up, ignoring the slight throb in the back of it. My duvet ruffles, and for the first time the pink silk lays in a ruffled heap. I'd always shooed Greta's cleaning attempts away due to the fact that my blanket would be have to set one specific way- with the tag at the bottom right corner. I barely let anyone step in my room, more or less clean the place. Groaning, I lift myself off the bed and rub my eyes over to check my phone. A few messages from Adriana and Evelyn, but that's it.

I wash myself up, take a quick shower and hop out with a soft pair of grey sweats and a white sleeveless tank-top, both the heightened epitome of 'no effort'.

While walking down the stairs, there's more noise than usual. And usual was a lot. Lorenzo and Matteo, my two rowdy cousins from Papa's side, thunder a rampage in the TV room.

Pairs of eyes flare on me when I enter the kitchen, my steps slowing.

"Didn't you say she was sick?" Lia, my fifteen-year-old cousin gives me a look while shoving a freshly baked brownie into her mouth. Her eyes bulge, and then she spits it all out into the nearest trash can, sputtering and coughing. Her twin, Louis's own hand stops just before he's about to put one into his mouth.

Adriana turns around and cringes, while Mama smacks her own forehead with frustration. The situation suddenly made a lot of sense.

Mama was teaching her how to cook.

No wonder.

"Tre anni e non sei ancora in grado di fare un cannolo come si deve." Three years, and you still can't make proper cannoli.

"That was supposed to be a cannolo?" Louis drags his staggered gaze away from the burnt pan and treads around the kitchen island, off to engage in a one-sided wrestling match with Lorenzo, like usual.

My sister dusts her hands off on a kitchen towel, facing me with worry laced in her eyes.

"Hey, you feeling better? Niko said Mikhail dropped you off half-feverish last night."

Oh, right. I was very, very sick last night.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just drank a little too much punch." When my sister doesn't waver at the excuse, the tension in my shoulders loosen.

He's pretty convincing, I'll give him that.

"And Matteo and Lorenzo? What are they doing here?" I pick up a piece of her cannolo, grimacing at the grainy, crispy burnt edge.

"Papa's talking to Zio."

Usually when our uncle came around, his two sons weren't far behind, which made the laughter in the living room make a lot more sense.

Neither was trouble.

"Zio? Why, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, apparently there was a drug-shipment bust on our usual dock. The containers were emptied, but no one knows where the contraband ended up."

I give her a look.

"What? Ears are made for listening."

She ignores Mama's squabbles, playing around with the burnt scraps on the tray.

"Oh, yeah. Xavier came by earlier.. he left something for you." She says with a smirk, that particular glint in her eye.

My body stills, the coldness of the marble seeping up my feet and into my limbs. The way I left things last night with him weren't exactly tip-top shape, but I still consider myself brave for listening to my head for once and getting the heck out of his car. In all honesty, he's the last person I would expect something from.

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