Lucca (Made Men Book 4)

by Sarah Brianne

Chloe raised her gray depths slowly, meeting his blue-green ones through her lashes.

  “No one is taking you from me, darlin’.” Tugging her hair once more, he brought her closer to him. “You’re mine, Chloe Masters. You have been since the moment I saw your scarred face. You just didn’t know it.”

  For four long years, her body had been claimed by the one she had believed to be the most heinous of beings, but now she could feel the old bonds the devil had placed on her breaking, and new chains were taking its place. These chains were heavier, tighter, showing her that she had been claimed by a more evil being. Her body had been claimed by the boogieman.

  Unraveling the strand around his finger, he was so close, almost brushing his fingertips upon her neck.

  Slamming her eyes shut, she waited for it, for the moment when he would finally touch her. But seconds passed, and it never came.

  She opened her eyes to find that he had already disappeared. However, the chains were still there, just as heavy, just as tight.

  Twenty-Two

  This Was It; The Time Had Come

  Chloe had fought off the nightmares every night since the last time, but not tonight. Her body now belonged to one monster, while her mind and soul still belonged to another. Letting her demons come for her, there was no use in fighting them anymore …

  Her one final hope of being saved from the devil had disappeared. No one was coming to save her, and if someone did, it was far past too late. To save her now would mean that someone worse would have to take her soul from the devil and claim it as their own. However, a man like that shouldn’t—wouldn’t exist, and if he did, that wouldn’t be saving her at all …

  “Chloe … Chloe, wake up and everything will be okay.” The repeated words brought her out of the nightmare.

  Opening her eyes, she saw Lucca sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with the ends of her hair that rested on the pillow.

  Afraid, she quickly sat up, scooting away from him, the nightmares and her tiredness not helping.

  “You really think I would hurt you, darlin’? After seeing you like that?”

  I don’t think you understand what you mean to him, Maria’s words echoed in her mind.

  Balling up her fists, her nails touched her palms and a wince of pain reached her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Lucca began studying her.

  “N-Nothing.”

  Turning on the bedside lamp, he looked back at her, seeing that her balled-up fists were tainted pink. “Let me see them.”

  “I-I’m fin—”

  “Either hold them out, or I’ll do it myself,” he cut her off.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, her hands shook as she uncurled them, revealing her inflamed and bloody palms.

  Without a word, he got up and left the room.

  Minutes seemed to pass before he came back with a box. Returning to the edge of the bed, he opened it, revealing a first-aid kit.

  “Come closer to me,” he instructed in a melodic voice.

  She found herself obeying him, scooting slightly closer. It was either that or he would move her himself.

  “You are going to let me touch you now, darlin’.” He didn’t ask for permission; he was telling her.

  “N-No.” She tried to scoot back, but he leaned into her, placing both hands on either side of her and giving her no space and nowhere to run.

  The voice that was once melodic turned dark and commanding. “You will let me touch you now.”

  She closed her eyes, holding her breath. This was it; the time had come.

  Holding as still as possible, she felt cold fingertips lightly touch her fire-hot hands. His cold ones turned hers over and began to soothe over her palms.

  She opened her eyes then to see Lucca’s full attention on her skin. It almost seemed like he was memorizing her hands as his cold fingertips smoothed over the inflamed areas, carefully dancing around her cuts.

  His hands left hers, going into the kit and pouring alcohol onto a pad. When the cold touch returned, she slightly jumped back, making him look into her eyes.

  Staring into his, she saw they now appeared fully green, without a trace of any blue.

  “This will hurt.”

  She nodded slowly, unable to look away from his green depths.

  Now when he touched her, she didn’t move away from his touch. She found herself unable to look away from him. It was like she was glimpsing a different side of him.

  He pulled his eyes away from hers, bringing his attention back to her hands. Bits of his dark hair that was usually slicked back had fallen in front of his face. He uncaringly left them there while he tended to her hands. It looked like … he cared, if that was even possible.

  It did sting when he swiped the pad along her cuts, but physical pain no longer bothered her. It could never compare to the pain of mental torture she’d had and still continued to endure.

  Lucca took his time cleaning each cut, making sure not to miss any open wounds. Going into the box again, he then pulled out an ointment and started applying it to the entirety of her palms.

  The ointment felt good on her raw skin, along with his light, icy touch. She was still mesmerized by the man before her.

  He then took his time wrapping each hand with white gauze. After it was secured, he brushed his finger over one of her polished nails.

  “I like this color.”

  Feeling the need to explain the dark purple shade, she said, “M-Maria picked it.”

  “It looks nice against your light skin,” he murmured.

  Chloe seemed to snap out of it when his fingers lingered on hers for a moment longer. She quickly pulled her hands away from his, unable to stand the closeness of him any longer.

  Did I just let him …? She swallowed hard, not understanding how she had let him touch her for so long.

  When he packed up his case, his green eyes disappeared, along with his softer demeanor. “I want you to trim your nails tomorrow when you wake up.” He got up, turning the bedside light off. “Go back to sleep.”

  Breathing heavily, she lay back down, scooting to the middle of the bed and securing herself under the covers like it would protect her from him.

  She watched his dark figure move through her room and into the attached bathroom where he closed the door behind him.

  Trying to slow down her breathing, she took long, deep breaths. You will let me touch you now …

  She could still feel the icy touch that smoothed over her pained palms, like they had been imprinted by his motions. She should have revolted against his touch, but instead, it was like he had put a spell on her.

  She could hear the water running in the bathroom, the sound bringing her calmness.

  Go back to sleep …

  Another long, deep breath and she closed her eyes, drifting off. It was obvious his spell still had a hold on her.

  Lucca washed his hands then splashed the cold water onto his face, trying to get himself under control. Touching her while she watched had been better than anything he had ever experienced in his life. He had touched many women, but not one who felt like her.

  If he had to go the rest of his life only able to simply touch her, he would. Even if that meant his dark side would never be appeased by the twisted things it wanted to do to her, he could live with that.

  It was everything he could do not to go back out there and do it all over again.

  Do it, his darkness whispered.

  Pushing back his hair with his damp hands, he tried to push out the image of running his fingers over her scars.

  You know you want to …

  “Shut up,” he whispered harshly at himself in the mirror.

  As much as he wanted to, now wasn’t the time. She was more frightened of him than ever, thanks to Maria. He had wanted to be the one who told her when she was ready to accept him for who he was. Now everything he had worked for to get her to be comfortable with him, to trust him, had flown out the window, and he was starting back from square on
e.

  Going to the bathroom door, he switched off the light then opened the door, staring out into the room and seeing Chloe already fast asleep.

  He quietly took a seat on the chair in the corner. Leaning back, he got comfortable for the night ahead, not wanting to leave her to the nightmares again.

  She had practically destroyed her hands, and he had a feeling he was to blame after making her face the frightening truth in his office.

  Knowing he had pushed her too far, he had left her alone, letting her retreat to the safety of her room. Instead, she had only made it her hell by self-mutilating herself. Never again.

  Lucca couldn’t help thinking back to what Chloe had repeated. Amo will come for me … He will save me.

  For a man who wasn’t supposed to feel anything, those words had cut him deeply. She couldn’t see it yet; didn’t even know that was the exact thing he was trying to do.

  Twenty-Three

  We Only See What We Want to See

  When Chloe woke up the next morning, she felt like death. Her hands were sore, and her mind was foggy from pure exhaustion. If she hadn’t gotten the deep sleep she had after Lucca had come in, she wasn’t sure what kind of state her mind would be in.

  Raising up in bed, she saw that it was ten past eleven, much later than she was used to waking up.

  Her eyes drifted to the unbroken music box that Lucca had given her. Then they drifted to the silver nail clippers she hadn’t seen before right next to it.

  She remembered the request he had asked of her last night, realizing he must have set them there to make sure she clipped her nails. She usually kept a bit of length on them; that’s how she liked them. It was a bad nervous habit she had adapted—wringing her hands that turned into digging her nails into her skin when she was scared. She couldn’t explain why she did it.

  Not wanting to part ways with her nails, nor wanting to do everything Lucca asked, she ignored his request, going into the bathroom to wash away the horrors of yesterday.

  She quickly used the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and then hopped into the shower. When she got out, she noticed the ointment Lucca had used last night, along with a new bandage on the bathroom counter.

  Why? She would never understand him and why he did the things he did. Even though it might have been a thoughtful gesture, it still came from a deranged man.

  Staring at her sore and swollen hands, she saw that she hadn’t done this amount of damage to herself in a long time. She figured it was best to use the supplies he had set out.

  Finally dressed, she then headed downstairs, figuring it was safe since Lucca would have been at work for hours by now. However, she learned that assumption was a mistake when she made it downstairs to see Lucca was in the kitchen, cooking.

  Just when she was about to turn around, he looked up and saw her.

  “Good morning.”

  “M-Morning.” Not wanting to blatantly run away from him, she spotted her laptop on the kitchen island where she had left it last and decided she would run back upstairs with it.

  Once she retrieved it, she turned around, but his voice stopped her.

  “Lunch is almost done.”

  “I’m not very hu—”

  “I didn’t ask if you were hungry, darlin’. Now, sit.”

  She didn’t know why she had thought she could actually escape him.

  Turning back around, her body followed his order.

  Lucca looked away from the stove to her. “Did you cut your nails?”

  She brought her hands close to her body, trying to hide them. “I-I don’t like my nails short.”

  Coming over to her, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pair of nail clippers, setting them down in front of her. “I’m not going to let you do that to yourself again, Chloe. I want you to keep them short. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, defeated yet again.

  His voice seemed to turn softer. “When you get over the habit, you can grow them out again.”

  Biting her lip, she nodded again. “O-Okay.”

  He looked at her for a second longer before going back to the stove to finish cooking lunch.

  Chloe picked up the clippers and began to trim her nails as short as they could go. She understood why Lucca was making her do so. It was something she should have made herself do forever ago. She just hated how her body felt the need to please him no matter how much her mind wanted to fight it. Something about Lucca had always called her body to his, but her mind knew better, always realizing how dangerous he was.

  Every now and then, she would glance out of the corner of her eyes to watch him cook. Then she would snap her eyes back to what she was doing when she found them lingering. Each time she glanced, she told herself that was the last time, but that was never the case.

  His face held the same thoughtfulness and care when he cooked as it had last night while caring for her hands. She found it too hard not to watch him when he was like that. It was rare and unexpected from a man like him.

  Finishing her nails, she cleaned off the counter and threw the clippings away before sitting back down to find a cheeseburger and fries waiting in her spot.

  She dressed her burger with some of the condiments he had laid out as he took a seat beside her with his own plate. She had eaten countless cheeseburgers but, taking a bite, she had to admit this one was pretty freaking good. Of course, it is.

  He was really starting to get on her nerves at this point.

  Chloe finished her food in record time, not knowing if it was because it was so good or because she wanted to escape upstairs.

  “T-Thank you. It was delicious.”

  “I’m glad you liked it, darlin’.” He smiled, picking up their empty plates.

  She reached for the laptop, more than ready to go upstairs.

  “I took the day off to finish gardening,” he told her, setting the dishes in the sink.

  She froze, having forgotten about that. No wonder he is here.

  “Do you still want to join me?” He wasn’t commanding her; he was simply asking.

  Clutching the laptop, she tried her best to lie. “I-I have a lot of schoolwork I n-need to do.”

  “Okay, darlin’. I just thought you might enjoy some fresh air. But if being in the house every day doesn’t bother you, then I understand.”

  “I j-just have a lot of work to do,” she tried to lie again, though she knew it was bullshit. Not on the account of what had happened last night, but because he specifically brought Sal in to help her with her schoolwork so she could. Dang it … She was starting to feel bad!

  He smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I said I understand, darlin’. Go and get your schoolwork done. It’s more important.”

  Is he being sarcastic, or just really freaking nice?

  Biting her lip again, she tried to decide. What is he trying to do to me?

  She shook her head, hoping it would shake the thoughts away while she headed for the stairs, not wanting to give in to feeling bad about not wanting to spend the day gardening with a freaking murderer.

  “Okay, bye.”

  Laughing at her abrupt departure, he raised his voice so she could hear him as she ran. “All right, I hope you get lots of work done, darlin’.”

  Running into her room, she shut the door behind her before setting her laptop on the small desk in her room. Ugh! I hope you get lots of work done, darlin’. Like, what does that even mean?

  Whatever Lucca was trying to do to her, she wasn’t buying it. He was a lunatic, and that was it.

  Taking a seat, she opened the laptop to see what schoolwork she had. Nothing she had to do was immediate, so she sat there, twiddling her thumbs, trying not to think about him. Finally, she decided to try to work out some math problems for the test that was coming up to see if she still understood what Sal had taught her.

  She hadn’t even been working on the problems for ten minutes when a chat box opened up.

  How’s the calculus coming alon
g?

  Rolling her eyes, she thought that was awfully convenient. Did Lucca ask you to check on me to see if I was doing schoolwork? Thinking better of it, she then asked, Is this Lucca?

  What? No? Did something happen? Ha-ha.

  Before she answered, she got up to look out the window. Lucca was already in the garden, dirty and hard at work. Well … Dang. That just killed her theory.

  Going back to the computer, she reread his reply, not liking the laugh he added to the message, knowing he was most likely smiling on the other end of the computer.

  Typing into the keyboard, she wanted him to know she no longer bought the innocent way he had explained the mafia. VP, huh?

  Well, I tried to warn you a little, but you weren’t hearing it.

  That isn’t true. That’s not true!

  I gave you the version you wanted to hear, didn’t I?

  Staring at the keyboard, she immediately typed in the letter “N,” but she couldn’t finish the word, knowing deep down he was right.

  We only hear what we want to hear, and we only see what we want to see, Chloe.

  Her eyes wandered to the window, her thoughts on Lucca, before she snapped her eyes back to the computer and typed, You still lied to me, along with everyone else.

  Did Lucca lie to you?

  She bit her lip, unable to lie. No. If anything, he was too honest.

  Then what’s the problem?

  Um, the fact that he is crazy. The underboss. Keeping me hostage. That was just a short list, but she wasn’t going to tell his best friend that. Nothing.

  Are you sure about that? Ha-ha.

  Yes!

  Okay then, if you’re sure.

  Ugh, she must not understand guys in general, because she didn’t know if that was sarcasm or not.

  Tapping her fingers, she thought there was something she had been wondering since finding out about the mafia. Sal’s genius intrigued her, and she wanted to know what he really did for them since she didn’t think he only handled security.

  What do you really do? Like, really do?

  Patiently waiting for a response, she didn’t get one until minutes later, and it wasn’t what she had expected, yet should have.