lorenzo-rinaldi-blog

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

pancakes or waffles?

your head on a platter.

Waffles, they hold the syrup in a more convenient way.

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

With his hand against her skin he was reluctant to move it. Not that he would make a show of that as she pulled his hand with her own and turned her face. Don't turn away from me! He wanted to shout the words. Sure, turning away was a sign of submission among animals and humans alike, but that wasn't the sign with Sophia. When Sophia Bradford turned away from you it was for one of two reasons, disinterest or disgust. The fact that he probably ignited both those responses in her both pleased and disturbed him. It was difficult not to pull her towards him, not to want to protect her from everything that could possibly hurt her in existence. This part of him would always love her, would hold on to her until his last bit of humanity clung to him, because at the end of the day her presence was the only thing that did keep him human. Even if it was the once thing that also drove him mad. 

The cruelest men often have the saddest story and for Lorenzo that fact remained true. For as much as he wanted to protect the frail and tired looking woman in from of him, he also wanted to feed her to the wolves and force her to fend for herself in a situation that would surely leave her eaten alive. "You say even you as if you're someone with a right to know anything more than anyone else." The words didn't match his tone, where his voice was low and soft his words were rude and cold. 

At the mention of Alessandra being alive he did nothing but nod, "That's good" He finally added as she brushed passed him. He could smell the antiseptic smell of the hospital that clung to her, but he could also smell Sophia. The scent he could place even if he were blind, it both turned him on and repulsed him. A constant battle tore in his mind, soul, and heart every time he found himself in close quarters with the woman capable of ripping out a still-beating heart and keeping it as a treasure or possession. He was living proof of that. Despite the fact that Lorenzo still moved and breathed, he surely could no longer have a heart. He wasn't sure what Sophia did with it, but he knew the bitch still had the capability of going back to where she kept it and clawing her nails into the flesh of it as it poured out blood. That was something Lorenzo would die truly before letting occur, his only blessing was that she may not remember that she still possessed such a sacred thing. 

He watched her carefully, his eyes studying her as she moved over to the dresser and righted the picture frame that only moments ago he'd been gripping to. Was he disappointed that Alessandra wasn't dead? Of course he was, did he want to rub salt into Sophia's wounds of it? More than anything. However the words that left his mouth weren't ones to egg her on. "It's not to my dismay. I gain nothing from Alessandra dying. In fact she was helping me with something." That was not entirely a lie. He would gain a lot from her death but she did have information, though Stefan had shared that information at the hospital, and by default made Alessandra completely useless to him now. He wanted to bad to smash the already broken woman. Take a bat to her bones and shatter the pieces, turn them to dust, but staring at her he couldn't will himself to do it. Not when she was so...vulnerable. The word came to him and he knew it fit. The vulnerable side of Sophia is what he always wanted to see, but these walls didn't come down from him, they came down because of something - someone else. He had to continue reminding himself of that. 

She isn't like this for you.

"I have." Lorenzo snapped out of his thoughts and brought his eyes that were previously resting on her body up to meet hers. "That stands to be proven. I'm not intoxicated, I accidentally spilt some scotch, I must smell like a bar." Her words had trailed off as he filled them, he'd barely got his out before she continued on with her own again. With her clothes tucked to her chest and her head barely holding high, he almost faltered. He took a step towards her before he caught himself and paused. Mid-step to bring his foot back to the side of his other, a man warring with compassion and pain. 

Wished it had been you? I'd rather die. No one, but myself will kill you, no one has the right. 

I don't know why I'm here.

Let me comfort you

Don't make me go.

All these thoughts were words Lorenzo wanted to say, to show be able to return the cold and cruel face of Sophia. Never would he have thought he'd miss the emotionally detached appearance of the woman, but seeing her as he is he wanted nothing more than to take away her pain. He would still kill Alessandra given the opportunity himself, but he wouldn't want her to be upset about it.

"It does. Had you listened to me, backed me up in any way, then this wouldn't be happening. There would have been control." This is your fault his words said. "But that doesn't matter now, does it? What's done is done." This time when he took a steps closer to her he didn't fight it and for once in a room with Sophia he felt like the predator against the prey. He both enjoyed and felt uncomfortable with it. "Why do you force my hand?" His words were low, they weren't meant for her to hear. "You will lose all your children to the Rossi's or this life if you keep fighting me." When he reached her he ran a warm hand down her shoulder, as if his words were meant to comfort her, though they didn't sound comforting. 

We Do More Damage With Our Hands Than Mending | Sophia & Lorenzo

And there it was. The Why Should I do this or that. Challenging her demands, as if Sophia didn’t deserve just one night without being battered down by him or his words. Words that would eventually set off a chain of other smart-mouthed responses and comebacks that they had both become accustom to. Things that she loved and hated, if it was even possible to feel both of those things at once.

Her lips pressed into a tight line as she gave him no response, only a quick raise of her eyebrow to leave him knowing that his intrusion and slight disrespect for her privacy wasn’t at all appreciated. Emotional exhaustion had ripped through her completely, until it became a physical exhaustion as well, so she stood still as he moved closer, knowing that it would have taken more effort and strength than usual just to move out of the way. She kept her eyes on his, taking in how they illuminated even in the darkness. They captivated her, even though they were everything but gentle and welcoming. It wasn’t their shade of vibrant blue that reeled her in—but because of the way they dug into her without asking. The way they seemed to undress and pull back layers to expose her and marvel in her vulnerability. The way they said one thing, but meant another.  Flickered between warmth and coldness. She had been looked at by many eyes, but Lorenzo’s were intriguing. And they were always eyes that did more than just graze over her surface—but looked past that, and made her feel seen.

Too distracted to take notice of his arm raising, she hadn’t had enough time to avoid his hand against her face. And even if she did have enough time to avoid such contact, she wasn’t even sure if she would have even done so. She must have swallowed gun powder, because as Lorenzo’s thumb ran against her cheek she felt something ignite within herself. It burned her, leaving her to feel relieved from it’s warmth but at the same time caused blisters if held on for too long. It was a lose-lose situation: if she let go she would lose his touch, but if she held on she would erupt into flames. Better to be without something, than consumed by it. Which was why she moved her hand to rest on top of his, to begin pulling it away.

His added words felt like mockery, her hand which rested gently ontop of his now pulling his hand from her face. “Right..” She whispered, moving her face in the opposite direction to reluctantly free herself from that caress, “I forgot you like to keep secrets that even I’m not worthy of hearing. And no, she’s alive.. pulling through,” she turned her shoulder before continuing, “I’m sure to their dismay,” she paused, rolling back Dominic’s name and refusing to mention it, “and maybe even yours. But I love how you like to pretend to care.” She moved beside him to her dresser, pulling open her drawer to grab her gown and other essentials, finally taking notice of a picture frame lying face down. Closing her drawer very slowly with her hand of clothes, she used her other to lift the picture from off of it’s face and stand it back upright. She didn’t try to imitate the expression smiling back at her in the picture, and instead, she looked at it for what it really was. Decoration. A piece of decor to fill empty spaces on a dresser top. It meant nothing anymore. All those memories, meant nothing. “Besides you’ve been drinking,” she added on, her senses picking up on the scent that fought against the lavender one in her bedroom, and the one he pressed into her cheek, “and I don’t know how you are when you’re intoxicated, but I’m sure it’s the usual arrogance and violence amplified by a thousand. That wouldn’t end well for one of us. And even though I’d love to entertain your pathetic banter, I don’t care enough for it tonight. So—” she looked over her shoulder, pressing her clothes into her chest before facing him, “say it," she shrugged her shoulder, battling to keep her chin up, "whatever you wandered in here to say, just say it. What, serves me right that my family is killing eachother? Wished it could have been me?"

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

The night was filled with positives and negatives. Mostly for Lorenzo it was positive, minus the warehouse burning. Hell, he sat in the leather chair that decorated his temporary room in the mansion, gloating and celebrating the fact that not only Genevieve Rossi but Alessandra Rinaldi may meet their maker before next sun up. He'd poured himself four fingers worth of scotch and felt nothing but the soft butter leather against his arms and the burn of perfectly aged alcohol in his stomach. This, This, was content. It seemed things were turning more into his favour and he hoped that both sides would wipe each other out completely. That would be wonderful for him, to take so much work and weight off his shoulders, though he didn't count on such an act. It was always important not to get too cocky, things like that can land a person in jail. 

A smile enriched his face at the thought of his brother, Joseph, locked behind bars. He would need to pay a visit to his brother, and soon. He didn't know how much longer he could deprive himself of a sight he so readily wanted to see. A pathetic, whimpering man with nothing left to live for behind bars. However, Lorenzo didn't want to cheapen the visit by arriving too early, that would do him no good. He wanted to see Joseph when he was beyond broken, with no chance of repair, and not a second before that. He'd taken everything from Lorenzo, at least everything that mattered. Yet he spared him his life, a respect and torture that Lorenzo would repay his brother in turn. To live with nothing, to live for nothing, it was a horrible existence, and one Lorenzo was forced to live even in this moment. 

He was in a place where he was tortured in the presence of one person, Sophia. Tortured because of what he wanted - had wanted with her, and knowing now that there was no way to return to a time before Joseph had fucked them up permanently.

The once content mood turned sour and just as much as he had revealed in the strong alcohol, he was now repulsed by it. He threw the glass against the wall and watched as it shattered to the floor. The scotch aroma now covered the room, the liquid now ran down the wall like blood after it splattered. The liquid was useless to him now, it would do nothing to burn off the sensations of Sophia's mouth against his own from only night before, and he loathed how much he enjoyed it, and hated that memories forced themselves to the surface. However, just as he had experienced loss, she may have tonight too. 

Good He thought to himself That bitch deserves it.

He wanted her to experience worse pain, he wanted to be the one to deliver it. Without a direction in mind he left his room, perhaps he'd always known he'd end up there, but he acted as though he didn't when he found himself in front of Sophia's door. The bedroom she had shared with her husband, the bedroom she had shared with his brother. The hand that was lifted to knock dropped to the handle instead, his need for control on possession taking over as he pushed it open and walked inside. It was dark, no lights on, no sound. She was not there.

The only thing illuminating the room was the glow of the moon through the large window. Just enough to reflect light from a frame that rested on a dresser, a frame that held a picture of Sophia during happier times in her life. A time after he'd been cast out of the city he'd called home, and just like that his hatred ignited more. 

How dare she look fucking beautiful and happy without him. Disrespectful, self-serving, the bitch that had betrayed him. All the thoughts swarmed through his head, his grip so tight on the picture it his hands threatened to crack the glass of the frame. Had it not been for the footsteps heading towards him he might have.

He saw the silhouetted figure walk through the room. Lorenzo didn't need a light or a closer look to know that the outline of the woman belonged to Sophia. He'd memorized the shape of her body years before, even now, every new change whenever he looked at her automatically added itself to his memory. He stood still, not wanting to make his presence known yet so he stayed to the shadows, watching. However the hunch of her shoulders and the sadness that etched into her face that was seen from the bathroom light, only made him want to go towards her. It was a fight he wouldn't lose to, but not one won without difficulty. 

He watched her slow movements, the usual rise of her chin now low, and he found that he wanted to be the one to put his hand under it to lift it once more. As she stepped back to the room be moved himself from the shadows into the light that spilled into the room from the bathroom entry. He studied her now closer, the pain evident in every inch of her body. 

One side of him wanted to comfort her, the other wanted yell and curse. This woman had the nerve to be upset over someone. The ice queen showing feelings of sadness and remorse for her daughter. Alessandra was the reason she was sad, Lorenzo knew that, but it pissed him off that she never showed any care or emotion like that for him. 

Was it jealousy?

"Why should I leave?" It was a question that needed no answer because despite her words he would stay where he was. "Please, don't let my presence interrupt you from your bath." He couldn't afford to show that her sadness impacted him, that her depression made him want to comfort her.

"Why would I share anything important with you?" His eyebrows pulled down in question as he moved towards her. His steps slow as he took her in, his eyes studying her face before he reached out and ran his thumb over her cheek, his thumb now containing flecks of dry blood. "Is she dead?" There was no softness or worry to his tone, just a simple question asked as one who would ask 'Is it raining?' before heading out.

We Do More Damage With Our Hands Than Mending | Sophia & Lorenzo

What time was it? Possibly too late in the night to really be considered morning, and too early in the morning to still be considered night. Somewhere in between. The still and quiet halls of her home didn’t reflect the happenings of the hours before. Even the wreckage in her chest was louder than the seemingly wholesome household.

Alessandra’s jacket fell back from Sophia’s shoulders, with deliberate slowness. She didn’t want to take it off. In a way, it had served as comfort. A poor replacement for her daughter’s arms, but at this point, Sophia took whatever comfort was in arm’s reach. The coat pooled around her bare feet once she let it go to reveal the unsettling sight of her dress, her burnt umber eyes raising from the running water in her sink to her reflection. If misery had a face, it would surely be her own. The sight of herself sent a chill up her own spine, the vain woman finding nothing to admire as she stared back at herself, finally taking notice of the crimson marks and smudges across her cheeks and neck that had become more and more faint thanks to her earlier tears.

Déja vu. She had seen this woman before.

She ran her hands under the water a few times, wringing her fingers until the bones ached. The blood was harder to rid since it seemed to dry and embed itself into her skin. Still, she tried, but soap and water only did so much. Turning off the faucet, she eyed her already drawn bathwater before turning to the doorway of the bathroom. It was when she walked to enter back into her bedroom, that she saw him standing there. Sophia would have jumped, might have gasped and gave him a scowl—but the former didn’t happen because she half expected him, and the latter didn’t happen because she was just too tired to entertain whatever foul words were about to come out of his mouth.

She stared at him, wondering just how long he might have been standing there. Wondering if he watched her continue to disarm herself, take off her armor, and submit to tears. Wondering if he enjoyed it. Wondering if he found delight in her slouched shoulders and swollen eyes which admitted defeat. Wondering if seeing her weary body clothed in a dress covered in her own daughter’s blood brought him satisfaction. A defeated Sophia stood in his presence, and she hated herself instantly for that. Because she had an image to keep around him. The image Lorenzo seemed to have ingrained about her. Cut-throat, unfeeling, unmoved, heartless. She was everything but those things in front of him now.

Her eyes fell to his chest, where the imprint she left seemed to remain. As if a ghost of herself was still there, latching on. How disgusting that apart of her still wanted to be right there. It had been another mistake that she allowed herself to make. A beautiful one. But still, a mistake. “Get out….” Because the word stay was wedged in her throat and didn’t have the chance (or courage) of being said. She spoke weakly, much too exhausted to shake his eardrums with her usual loud shouting, “unless you have something important to tell me, you’re the last person I want to see.” Not completely true. And despite the words coming out as a whisper from a dry throat, the backbiting was still obvious. The least she could do, was try to hold her back straight and her chin high, to maintain the image of the woman he hated so much.

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

All the Rinaldi children in one room: Which order do they die, how, and why that order and method?

To make this answer simple, a bomb. To blow up everyone at once would be the ideal method. Mostly because I wouldn’t want to hear them cry and complain about wanting life. Most people I would get joy from hearing their last pleas of life, not these bastards. I’ve heard enough from them to last a lifetime, I simply want the silence.

If I must put them in an order it would be:Natalia - Drowning her nice and slow - because she’s bothersome. Sticks her nose in places it shouldn’t be an walks around entitled when she’s a child who knows nothing of anything relevant.Aless - torture for secrets before a quick death - She stands in my way in regards to anything with Stefan. With her gone it would make everything much easier to manipulate.Nicolas - Leave him in a room to bleed out after slicing his up enough to bleed to death -His sarcasm makes me want to shoot him in the tongue. (His wife would go this time as well because she’s his wife)Dominic - Shot in the head - As of yet he has no use to me, though he almost killed aless, so he got to move down a place on the list.Stefan doesn't need to die as he proves useful, it can happen one day but for now it's always good to keep an enemy and potential threat one day close. 

Who else is there?The dead one? He’s headOh Katerina? Inject enough drugs for her to overdose. I care little for how she dies.I don’t know if there are any others. I think that’s it.Baby Joseph is undecided what his fate would be.Kill my nieces and nephews? I’d never think about it. They’re family.

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

Describe your favorite past time, and then describe your worst.

Favourite: The art of war and torture.

Worst: Answering questions for people I do not know.

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

"That's fine, I understand" Lorenzo lowered his tone as he gave an understanding nod after pretending it was a tough concede. At the end of the day he didn't really give a fuck about whether Stefan wanted to stay bloody or not. He shook his head at Stefans thoughts of him being angry with the Rossi shooting. "You did what you had to do." He assured the boy, sure he'd caused a fucking mess, but his actions had potentially taken out two of Lorenzo's obstacles. "The rat will need to be dealt with. To do that though..." He pretended to think hard, though he already knew the words that would come out of his mouth. "Alessandra was supposed to get an address for me...Did she ever mention one to you? With that..." He took a moment for everything to sink in, an act of how serious Lorenzo was taking the situation. "Well, with that I can assure you retribution."

[private]

I’m not leaving her side. I should be here when she wakes up. And she will wake up. I don’t care what these fucking doctors say. Genevieve came to talk to me and I shot her in the chest. And before you say anything about how reckless my behavior was, let me just remind you that we have been nothing but sitting duck’s for the Rossi’s ever since they came to town. I’m sick of it. Besides, you wanted me to catch your rat… well, there you go. Dominic is your rat. Now, when do we go kill it? 

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

She'll be alright, Stefan. She's a Rinaldi, we're not that quick to submit to damage. You should get out of here...Grab a shower and a change of clothes. I can have constant watch over her while you attend to that. Though first I'd like to ask what exactly took place. 

So far she’s stable, but still delicate. We don’t know if … when she’ll wake up.

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

I got here as soon as I could. How's her condition?

The next doctor that comes out with nothing useful to say is getting stabbed.

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

Letting go wasn't an easy thing to do. Not when it came to letting go of things mentally and definitely not when it came to Lorenzo pulling his hands and arms away from Sophia. With threats so immediate, he wanted nothing more than to keep her as close to him as he could pull her. This was something that disturbed him to a great degree, but still not as much as letting go of her did. In any sense of the word, Lorenzo knew - not that he'd admit it to himself - that Sophia was someone he would never be able to dismiss from his mind. No matter the amount of pain her or the memories of her caused him. It was all he had and he wouldn't give them away for the world. Despite how much suffering he went through because of her, he never seemed to be able to forget her. He chalked that up to the wound she left, one so deep and sanguineous that nothing could cover or heal it, though that might not be the actual case.

Feeling her tremble in his arms had almost been enough to keep his hold on her, but he fought the urge. His adrenaline leaving his system just as quickly as it had come with the fear of a bullet tearing through the woman before him. She was safe, the danger was elsewhere. When he'd dropped his arms away from her, the feel of her head on his chest became a focal point for him. His detached demeanour was back but it would have slipped had she stayed there only a moment longer. When she lifted her head from his chest he was grateful that he hadn't acting in something he would regret. Showing emotions like care and worry to Sophia was like showing fear to a wolf. He swore she could smell it, bask in it even, and he couldn't blame her. If love to her was anything like fear to him, then he understood the drive to revel in it. So when the cold words left his mouth in a neutral tone, he was satisfied with his ability to keep up appearances. 

At the given moment Lorenzo wasn't paying attention to the chaos that had erupted around them. On the contrary the one person he didn't want to see dead - unless he killed her himself - was standing alive in front of him. Who or what had caused the commotion was of little concern to him. In fact, he hoped it was one of those fucking Rinaldi children, even better would be one of the Rossi's, but those were both long shots and he figured it would probably be someone inconsequential. When Sophia turned towards the sounds, as if to head that was he was about to grab her but then a very unfortunate sound was heard.

The sound wasn't another gun shot, it wasn't a bomb, and it wasn't an ear piercing scream. All of those things would have been okay with Lorenzo, but what he heard was the very unforgettable sound of Nadir Sarrafs voice. "My sense of sacrament would be nailing you to a cross, old friend." The words had left his mouth with an edge of anger. He didn't enjoy being interrupted, especially not when he was with his current company, and definitely not so soon after hearing gun shots ringing through a church as he worried about said company's safety. 

Lorenzo's hand still rested close to his gun, the chance to draw it on this man would be a blessing. Had there been no witnesses he might have. With all the chaos erupting, what would another gun shot mean? But he refrained, regardless of how badly he wasn't to shoot the mocking grin off the mans face. He had more sense than that. If only barely. 

Need a new underboss soon. 

Had Stefan shot someone? What brother shot his sister? The words out of the mans mouth hadn't exactly made sense, though Lorenzo really couldn't care about the outcome of that. He knew his words would have ignited bounteous thoughts of worry through Sophia's mind. 

Lorenzo fought the urge again to strike against Nadir, it wasn't the time. The time would come, but not yet. As he watched the man walk away he turned back to an already leaving Sophia. "Sophia" He tried, but his voice was devoured by the sounds of the disarray around them. Before he could head after her the crowed absorbed that too. 

Damn it

Then his phone went off, he ignored it for the moment, moving up to the top floor of the church where the choir would normally stay. This was the place he could look down and see everything from. A place he could watch. Keep an eye on not only the events but the woman he vowed he didn't give a shit about.

Go Fuck Yourself | SoLo + Nadir (cameo)

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

[TEXT] We should stop by Starbucks. A lot can happen over coffee.

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

[TEXT] I just thought you'd like the privacy. Dark back seat. Very convenient. I've arranged for separate transportation for us. If anyone tries to take advantage of the chaos and go after you, it's best if at least one of us survives. Shall we meet at the factory? There's not a lot of information I have yet, but no prizes for guessing who.

Privacy for what, Darius? Privacy to kill her? I'd prefer it was a public affair. The factory is fine. The sooner we estimate the damage the better. 

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

[TEXT] We should leave. Now. I wouldn't put it past the Rossis to burn the church down. The car's round back. Get Sophia if you must. We've also got a fire downtown to take care of.

On my way there. Why the fuck would I bring her? Let the treacherous bitch fucking burn. Fill me in, when I get to the car. 

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

"I believe it would be God who gave up on a woman like you, a long time ago." Lorenzo corrected her words, though they weren't said in malice. More stating facts than holding a grudge, though his anger was always there. Just sitting under the layer of flesh that covered his skin, only millimetres away from seeping through his skin and burning everyone in close contact to him. He was the last person to believe in God, but for the moment he was praying this woman would just get out of his sight. Her being near him caused reactions he'd rather leave for behind closed doors, or in their case, dimly lit hallways and bedrooms. 'No' Her voice caused him to look away from their hands and to her eyes, which were burning with a familiar anger. Perhaps frosted over with anger was the better word, Sophia was far to cold to ignite a fire within herself, even if he liked to think a long time ago he may have been capable of doing that for her. The pretences were different, yet the shit was all the same. As she pushed him back, directing him to more privacy, he felt better with the darkness that covered him. Shadows were a form of protection and most people spent too many wasted moments in their life being scared of them. Now harder to see and not in earshot of anyone close by, Lorenzo could sense his calm face falling, being replaced by blatant annoyance and resentment. The reprieve that the shadows offered him only lasted a moment when Sophia began to speak again. The instinctive deep breath he took was to calm himself, not to allow her to rattle him visibly in public."Does that count? What you have with my brother? Because as it appears, Sophia, that he made a choice that was not you." His words were rude, but her cold statement of the facts pissed him off. "This isn't Josephs kingdom anymore. What was his, is mine, or will be." It was a threat, was he referring to only the material items of Josephs or Sophia as well? He wasn't sure. 

As Sophia spoke Lorenzo came to realize something. Gaining custody of Joseph Jr was his goal, it would be to force some type of revenge against his brother. However, if there was one child of Josephs that Lorenzo hated least, it was - in fact - the baby. As he tried to interject into the conversation, she continued on a rampage of shadowed words and empty threats.Sometimes he just wanted to shut her the fuck up. Permanently. Though when gunshots rang through the air, Lorenzo's actions and thoughts contradicted each other. Instinctively Lorenzo's arms caged around Sophia, pulling her towards him as if to shield her from imminent danger as his hand went to his back where his own firearm rested. He was surprised when Sophia had braced herself against his arms, it had seemed beyond her control in doing so. To anyone looking it could have been seen as an act of trust, or reliance, of a woman wanting to make sure someone she cared about would be alright. Any of those things. However, Lorenzo was not just anyone and he knew Sophia. Sometimes he was sure better than she knew herself. It wasn't an act of trust, it was an act of self preservation. Everything Sophia did was an act of self preservation. Once the sound of a final shot filled the air, his hands ran over her body as he subtly assured himself of her health. Get out of here, away from the danger. Stay safe. Those were the words he wanted to say but instead he dropped his hands and stepped back. "Someone's probably dead." He stated in a cold and distant manner.

Go Fuck Yourself | SoLo

"I stopped believing in God a long time ago.” She quickly responded, as if there was no need to think twice about the words that left her mouth. Her faith was non existent, and in admitting that, she didn’t bother to consider what eyes were watching, as Lorenzo said, or what ground she was apparently standing on. Holy ground. And what made it so Holy, anyway? The stain glass windows? Its immaculate condition? The scriptures on every pew that went touched by the hands of believers? Were the testimonies of these said believers of tingling sensations, or heaviness in their hearts supposed to validate the existence of a much higher power, that often never made himself evident? At least.. he had never made himself evident to Sophia. Never during the times when even she could have used somebody. Anybody. “No,” she snapped back, her hand countering his own as she used her other to grip the one that had now pulled her hold from off of his wrist. With that word, she began to step forward in order to guide him back through the open doorway of the room just beside him, further tucked away in the shadows to be unseen and unheard. “you’re wrong. And I don’t know how many times I am going to have to say this to you. Everything you do, every decision you make, affects me and my children, whether you give a fuck or not. It is all my business, and it all concerns me. Yes, I am Joseph’s wife, and yes, he is no longer here. But I am still considered a proprietor of all things that were, and are still his. That includes the entirety of this whole kingdom, and whether you want to accept that fact or not is a personal battle you can have between you and your putrid reflection through your vanity mirror. So—” She took a moment to breathe, but before he could have anything to say, she quickly continued on, “with that being said, everything that happens in, around, or throughout this family is my goddamn business. Joseph is out of the picture, much to your pleasure—but I’m still here. I never left. And you will start acknowledging that, and respecting that fact.”

"The move you just made is thick—too much, and unnecessary. I don’t give a shit if this has to do with whatever grudge you have against your brother—there is more important matters that you should have your attention on like the pack of wolves in this church. I am not going to sit back while you fuck up and destroy the very little that I have left, Lorenzo. All because you want to play this game your way. You have nothing to lose, but I have everything to lose—my children—” The gunshot sounded, just as her words ended, and little did she know that it would only be the first domino to fall out of many. She reacted without control or thought, grabbing onto both of Lorenzo’s arms, as if bracing herself to feel the sting of pain at any moment. Half expecting for whatever bullet had just been fired, to penetrate through her own chest.

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

[TEXT] Where are you? We just lost Dominic to the Rossis. Alessandra's been shot, and your underboss unsuccessfully tried to kill Genevieve. Unsuccessfully. Where are you?

I'm still here. I'll be leaving. I've gathered some of that information. Not surprised about Dominic, that kid seemed off from the moment I met him. I know what deep rooted hatred looks like. Unsuccessfully? All this shit caused and it wasn't successful? That will need to be corrected. I'm on the upper floor of the church now, watching the last of the chaos. 

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

Observing. It had been Lorenzo's preferred position for the circumstance of the night. Most people were walking around, causing a scene, talking to people they shouldn't be or threatening them, but other than his small discussion with Leo and his staged fight with Vince, he stood at the back, just watching. As he leaned his back against the wood that barred off the confession room, he thought about his current situation. Mostly he felt a deep rooted hatred for the majority of the people there, especially these Rinaldi children who thought they could dominate and control the events of the evening. If he didn't have to keep a proper facade, then he'd probably have bitten off the pin of a grenade before tossing it behind him and hightailing it the fuck out of there. The though brought a ghost of an amused smile to his lips, however just like everything in the city of Las Vegas, it was short lived. The sight of Sophia had his smile wiped clean from his face and on instinct his back straightened and his eyes narrowed a fraction. It took physical control for Lorenzo to take a breath and attempt a relaxed state as he turned his back to her in hopes of her passing him by. When his wrist was gripped and yanked he knew his hopes on that matter were futile. "You shouldn't speak so casually of hell in church. It's rude. Gods watching." He knew it was useless but he really wanted to steer away from the conversation she'd brought to the metaphorical table. He didn't want to know how she'd figured it out so quickly - but it didn't surprise him either. "What I do, who I take to court, and for who..." Lorenzo began as he covered her hand on his wrist with his other, it didn't take much strength to pull her grip off of him. "is none of your business, Sophia." This woman thought she could control what he did? She had the fucking audacity to act like he had betrayed her on some higher level after all the ways she'd betrayed him? It didn't matter. Nothing was going to change Lorenzo's mind at what he's started.

Go Fuck Yourself | SoLo

Leaving Sydney, Vivienne, the Priest, and that baby at the altar left Sophia feeling unsatisfied. She always got her way—and when it came to exacting revenge or retribution, that fact remained the same. But this time around, there was little she could do—rather, little she could do with so many people watching. There was enough trouble on their names for the public to ridicule them for centuries on end. The last thing that needed to make headlines was Sophia Rinaldi murdering the aunt of her illegitimate step-son, and her smart mouthed counterpart. The image of her strangling Vivienne, or pressing her foot into the back of Sydney’s neck while the step near the altar was wedged between her teeth, only satisfied her desires so much. Lorenzo was never hard to find, when someone knew to look in the most unexpected places. Bathroom stalls, closets, beneath beds—but in this case, he was tucked away in the shadows of the church, and it was almost as if he was born from it—blending so well with the darkness. The anger in her eyes was obvious, but when was she never not angry these days? Her heart was racing, her hand reaching out and grabbing a hold of his wrist to turn him around to face her. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re taking Sydney to court for that—for that—.. for that baby?” The words felt foreign, even though she had already allowed that fact to sink in moments before. She had never wanted to kill someone more in her life, than she wanted to kill Lorenzo. All while a part of her held back—shes passed up that chance plenty of times.

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

Easier said than done, but I'll be honest with you, Leo. Your wife seems a lot easier to get along with than you do. It's a hard thing not to notice, considering you're the only person in the house who shows any lack of family bond. 

Yes well, reaping debts is something I'm overly familiar with. I know you're owed your own, why do you think I called you to come along? I'm not Joseph, Leo. I truly want you to get everything that's coming to you - everything you're owed from this city and the person who denied you and your family existence in it.

In that case, I’ll be laughing to myself whenever you smile at anyone from now on. Easy fix: just don’t get on both of our bad sides—which is already a huge task in and of itself. Oh, so you noticed how I don’t make the effort to have family bonding over nice dinners, did you? It’s home and I was driven from it when I was eighteen. I’d like to have a small stake in it, just get what I’m owed. I think you can understand the importance of reaping debts, Lorenzo.

[lorenzo-rinaldi-blog]

It was a compliment. If I was trying to offend you, I'd have done it with a smile. You're correct though, it would be a headache that no amount of pills in the world could get rid of, and personally I'd prefer to stay away from that. What are your other reasons? Surely it wasn't to keep me company in this city.

I feel like I should feel offended that you don’t trust me enough, but if I’m being honest I feel like I’m being complimented on my apparent wiles instead. Yes, I guess you’d have a terrible headache if you had to deal with me and Liz at the same time. I’m always curious, Lorenzo. That’s one of the reasons why I came back home at all — but yes, it’s nice.