by Lux Miller
Luca grunts in response as he closes his eyes beside me. I shift around on the bed with the intention of getting up to clean up and head to my own room, but Luca’s strong arm slides around my waist. He winces in pain as my movement pulls against him, but his voice is even as he states, “Stay, Emily… please…”
I wrinkle my nose as I look down at myself. There’s blood everywhere, but his voice is insistent, “I need you to stay.”
I chuckle softly, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sorry Luca, but there’s no way we can continue what we started earlier with you in this state. I’m afraid it’s going to be days at best before you can maul me again.”
He cracks a smile, but continues to tug on my body until I lay down beside him with a sigh. “Happy?”
He nods and yawns, his muscles tightening as I rest my hand on his belly, just below my hack job of a repair to his skin. He nuzzles his face into my hair and inhales deeply followed by an equally deep exhale. He does this several times in the dead silence of the room before his breathing evens out. I convince myself that the harried events of the last half hour have passed and that I should get some more sleep.
Just as I’m drifting into a dreamless sleep, I hear Luca’s voice murmur so softly that I’m not sure if he intended for me to hear it or not. The words that come out of his mouth, despite being mumbled in Italian, cause my heart to skip a beat as the world stands still. “Mmm… Ti amo, Emily…”
FIVE
It’s half past two in the afternoon before Luca stirs from a fitful sleep I’ve been awake for hours, but then I never really managed to get back to a sound sleep after Luca got back home. Every time I’d start to drift off, he’d groan in his sleep or his breath would hitch, and it’d send my heart to racing out of worry for him.
I didn’t know what to expect. Was he going to die? Mike reassured me that Luca was a tough man more than once as he kept a bedside vigil that added to the laundry list of reasons it was impossible for me to sleep. The worst was his insistence that this wasn’t even the worst injury he’d seen him suffer through.
Thankfully, Mike spared me the gory details of the prior incidents he alluded to, but my mind still ran laps with worry about what exactly I’ve gotten myself into. I knew Luca was dangerous. I knew some consider him a menace to society while others regard him as a vigilante savior. I knew falling for a man like him would test my limits, yet I fell anyway.
If Luca’s delirious mumblings this morning were any indication, I’m not the only one harboring scary feelings right now, but our relationship is still so new. Even if we count all the fake dates, we’re barely four months into this thing, and we didn’t start off on the best foot. Hell, if my daddy was still alive, he’d likely read me the riot act and claim I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome to be able to have feelings for a man who abducted me against my will under the threat of death.
I shudder as I realize that when I put it like that, it really does sound bad. I must be an idiot. An idiot that, no matter how terrible of an idea it is, is falling in love with this cold, cruel, and calculating man.
Nobody else would understand my predicament because they don’t see the side of him I see. They don’t see the humanity that he hides from the world. Even I only see glimpses of it from time to time. But those glimpses are the moments that take my breath away and send me tumbling down a rabbit hole of feelings I can’t explain to anyone, including myself.
A guttural groan catches my attention, and I glance down at Luca. He’s sweaty and I know it’s not hot in here. I sit up beside him and reach my hand down to his forehead, bracing myself for what I may encounter. My stomach plummets as I jerk my hand away from his damp skin. He’s burning up, and I know without a doubt that I have to tell Mike.
I look up to see him watching Luca and I in complete silence. His face looks haggard, but his eyes are clouded with warring emotions. I sigh quietly. “Mike, we have to call someone… he’s burning up.”
Mike nods slightly, but holds both of his hands up. “He has decreed no doctors, Emily. Despite his situation, it was an order. One I would be wise to follow… not all of us can get away with disobeying our superiors.”
I grumble and hold my hand out to Mike. “Mike… he’s sick. Something is wrong. He needs a doctor, not this whack-a-doodle repair service we’ve managed to pull together. What if he gets worse?”
Mike looks torn, and it breaks my heart to see such a giant of a man reduced to the misty eyes that plead with me to stop arguing. “An order is an order.”
“Then give me your phone. I’ll call someone.”
Mike shakes his head and stands up out of the chair he hasn’t left since Luca fell asleep. He stumbles backwards away from my outstretched hand, skating a hand through his graying hair. “I can’t… please, find another way.”
His plea is the only confirmation I need. He doesn’t want to see Luca suffer either, but he’s loyal to Luca to a fault. He won’t disobey a direct order, even if it means putting Luca’s life at risk. But he wants me to find a way. The desperate look on his face says that much.
I grunt and shove the covers off myself and Luca, then gasp at the amount of crusted blood that covers my clothes and the bed. I press my hand gently against Luca’s wound. It looks surprisingly good considering the circumstances. It’s hot to the touch though, so I know there’s a good chance an infection is trying to take hold. And an infection is public enemy number one right now.
I crawl over Luca, who moans with the shifting on the bed. Glancing back over my shoulder at him, I mutter, “I’m sorry, Luca. Hopefully you’ll forgive me for this…”
Slipping out of the room before Luca can come to full consciousness, I hurry across the hall and pound my fist against Dante’s door. I do this until the door finally pops open, a disgruntled and disheveled Dante standing in its place.
He eyes me warily and motions to the state of my appearance. “You might want to consider a shower, Emily. I hear the blood-covered look is soooo last year…”
I can’t help but chuckle, despite the seriousness of the situation. I nod quickly and reply, “Yeah, I’ll get to it eventually.” I sigh as my expression turns serious.
Dante watches my face change and his does too, his easy smile shifting into a frown. “Shit, Em… what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen something scarier than the whole shit-show showdown we had at five this morning.”
I nod solemnly, and Dante growls under his breath as he disappears back into his room momentarily. He reappears in front of me with his phone pressed to his ear. He drops the phone away from his mouth for a moment and asks, “How bad is it?”
Shrugging slightly, I mouth an answer that never materializes. Dante rests a hand on my shoulder and hunches down so that he’s looking me square in the face. Which is a feat since he’s over a foot taller than me. “Is he breathing?”
I exhale suddenly and nod. “Yeah, yes… he’s asleep, somewhat… but he’s burning up. It doesn’t look very good this morning. It’s still closed, but it looks angry…”
Dante nods and relays what I’ve told him through the phone. He drops it down off his shoulder and ends the call. “Not nearly as angry as Luca is going to be when Franco shows up.”
Narrowing my eyes at Dante, I implore, “Who’s Franco?”
Shrugging, Dante steps back into his room again and tugs on a t-shirt. In my stupor, I hadn’t even noticed that he’d answered the door in nothing but boxers. He smirks at me as he pulls on a pair of joggers and puts both hands on his hips. “He’s the family doctor we keep on-call for when shit goes sideways and someone gets hurt.”
My mouth drops open as I realize that this was never mentioned as an option when Luca stumbled into the house bleeding out. I motion dumbly at Dante. “You didn’t think it pertinent to mention this as an option this morning? Instead of making me sew him closed on the guidance of our flamboyant tailor who thought I was repairing my dress?!?”
Dante chuckles slightly. “Can’t wait
to see Royce’s reaction when he finds out what really happened.”
I growl and stamp my foot at him as I huff out a breath that sends my hair fluttering out of my face. Dante shrugs. “Because it wasn’t an option this morning.”
I smack Dante’s good shoulder and scowl at him. “And it suddenly is now? What changed?”
Dante shrugs. “Luca can’t say no. Trust me, he’s going to be pissed as fuck when he finds out we called Franco. The terrified look on your face told me it was necessary. You don’t seem to get rattled by much, and you look downright worried right now. But Luca’s going to go on a tirade of tyranny when all is said and done.”
I shake my head at Dante. “What’s with all the secrecy? If Franco is on your payroll, isn’t he discreet? I can’t imagine Matteo Barresi would keep anybody on his payroll who couldn’t keep their mouth shut…”
Dante levels his gaze at me. “And therein lies the problem. My father knows everything that happens in the business… if we’re utilizing a family resource, he’s going to know about it.”
Dante chuckles softly as he pats me on top of my head. “That means that the secrecy Luca hoped to maintain about his injury is gone. Franco knows about it and soon, he will know the severity of the injury. He’ll know that Luca was lucky to survive at all. And he will report it immediately to my father.”
Realization dawns on me. Luca doesn’t want his father to see his weaknesses. He wants to appear invincible to both his father and grandfather so that when the times comes, they’ll put their trust in him as their heir. I gasp as Dante nods his head as if he’s reading my mind. “Yeah, but at least he’ll be alive to be pissed off… fever’s nothing to play with. Not with an injury like that…”
***
An hour later, the man named Franco emerges from Luca’s room with a grim expression on his face. He yanks off the pair of blue latex surgical gloves and tosses them into the doctor’s bag he carries in his left hand. His voice is tight as he asks, “Who did the sewing?”
I wince as Dante and Mike’s eyes turn to me. Thankfully, I’m no longer covered in Luca’s blood since I was able to take a quick shower once I knew Luca was in capable hands. I shrink under his scrutiny as he eyes me up and down. “Why would you use an open Cretan stitch to close a wound? It’s more appropriate for formal wear than skin.”
“Plus, the thread you used wasn’t sterilized. That’s likely where the infection came from. I assume you didn’t sterilize the needle either if it came from the sewing kit that was laying on the floor. Considering Luca’s breath reeks of liquor, did you also use that to sterilize the wound?”
I wince at his insinuations. “First of all… it looks like a fabric repair job because I called the fucking tailor to tell me what to do! He thought I was sewing a dress! Secondly, yes, I sterilized the stupid needle - as best I could anyway with rubbing alcohol, not the vodka. The vodka was to numb Luca out of his mind while I jabbed a sewing needle into a knife wound.”
Franco nods as the corner of his mouth twists into a smirk. “Well, you could have used a finer thread since that one will leave hole marks, but honestly, it would cause more trauma to the area for me to remove your stitches. I debrided the wound and used sterile dressings to recover it. There’s not much else I can do for it, but I did leave him an antibiotic to make sure the infection is kept at bay. Otherwise, he’ll heal in time. Make sure he keeps it clean, and he’s got to take it easy for a few days until the edges of the wound begin to adhere together. Overall, I’d say Luca is lucky you were there and were able to do a half-decent patch job.”
I shake Franco’s hand as he offers it to me, but the hairs on my arms prickle as a familiar gravelly voice behind me muses, “Indeed. Seems that Miss Clark is always in the right place at the right time to pull my sons back from the brink of disaster.”
Dropping the doctor’s hand, I wheel around and find myself face to chest with Matteo Barresi. I take several steps back and drag my gaze up to his face. His mouth is set in a frown, and his blue eyes look like the coldest ice I’ve ever seen.
Just as I feel my knees start to wobble in response to his huffing down at me, I hear a smooth feminine voice reprimand him. “Oh, for fuck’s sake Matteo, back off the girl. She didn’t send Luca on that harebrained mission, but she sure enough saved his ass when he got into trouble.”
Matteo growls without turning to face the woman who steps out from behind him and into my view. “Bianca. Stay out of my business matters.”
Bianca narrows her eyes at Matteo as she grips his arm. “When my son’s life is hanging in the balance, it’s no longer business matters. It becomes my business when it involves my babies.”
Nostrils flaring, Matteo inhales and exhales several breaths before he responds to the woman who has his arm in a death grip. “Fine. But Luca has to stop this shit. He can’t go bopping around like a spy on secret missions when someone is out there, taking aim at my heirs. He got lucky. He could have easily been killed… or worse, compromised. Why on Earth would Luca go alone?”
I gasp at Matteo’s words. Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I stammer, “He… he went alone? Isn’t that Criminal Handbook 101 stuff? Never take a knife to a gun fight and never go alone.”
Matteo narrows his eyes at me. “What do you know of the Criminal Creed?”
I shrug, avoiding his gaze. Instead, I drop my eyes to the hardwood flooring under my feet and fidget with the hem of the flowy gauze top I’m wearing. “Despite my looks, I’m not some pretty princess Luca stumbled upon on the streets. I lived on those streets. I survived those streets for ten years when many other women were chewed up and spat out.”
Matteo strokes his chin. “Resourceful, I see. Like roping a crime syndicate under lord into pretending to play house? Is that how it went down?”
Finally, I’ve had enough. I don’t care that this man is Luca’s father. He’s a prick and an asshole, and I can’t bite my tongue any longer. “No, your son held a fucking gun to my head and threatened to blow my brains out because I saw him do the same to my boss. A man who was an utter scumbag that deserved what he got, but Luca shot him right in front of me. And he would have done the same to me if Dante hadn’t spoken up and convinced him to spare me.”
Matteo growls, “You are a weakness… to them both…”
I stamp my foot in frustration as I step right up against him. This man outweighs me by a hundred pounds, and he could squash me like a pest in half a second, but right now, I’m seeing red. My temper flares as I extend my index finger and poke Matteo in the chest. “I don’t make them weak. You make them weak. You make them doubt themselves when they’ve been nothing but fiercely loyal to you and your cause.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dante’s expression turn from amused to alarmed. He makes a motion to grab me away from Matteo, but Matteo holds up a hand. Dante stops in his tracks as Matteo begrudgingly says, “Let her speak.”
I blink and clear my throat, then continue, “Luca refused to call a doctor because he didn’t want you to know he’d been hurt. He didn’t want to disappoint you. He’s lying in that bed after being half-gutted, because you didn’t trust him enough to send him to investigate this lead sooner! And don’t even get me started on what you did to Dante! If anyone here is responsible for the scars these men now bear, it’s you.”
I know I’m grasping at straws in my accusations, but the look of hurt that sweeps over Matteo’s face tells me I’m closer to the truth than I thought. Bianca’s eyes are wide and her mouth is hanging open as Matteo’s impenetrable demeanor cracks, his shoulders slumping slightly.
I close my eyes and open my mouth to apologize for my tantrum, but her voice, even-keeled as ever, cuts me off, “Emily, don’t apologize for being right. Don’t ever apologize for standing up to someone who’s wrong. Because of you, both of my boys still live. You’re the answer to my prayers, it seems. I can’t say I imagined that He would send a five-foot blonde spitfire when I asked for a miracle, but I won’t doub
t the Good Lord’s wisdom in sending you crashing into our lives.”
SIX
Trying to wrangle a piece of Jello-O with your bare hands covered in butter sounds like a fool’s errand. I’ve been tasked with keeping Luca Barresi confined to a bed for a week, and it’s basically the same thing. Utter insanity. He’s fought me every inch of the way and he’s tried to get fresh with me more than once. I understand it. My thoughts haven’t exactly been pure either. I know what the man can do to my body, but even though he hasn’t worn a shirt since he was attacked, it isn’t the time or place.
The very sight of the jagged cut across his side and stomach automatically gives me pause. Franco has been by multiple times this week to assess the healing process, and he seems to be satisfied that Luca will emerge out the other side of this ordeal with a gnarly scar, but little else. Except maybe a renewed determination to track down and strangle whoever is responsible for the attacks.
