39. Luca
LUCA
Dear Diary,
I almost got mouth-to-mouth from the six-foot-four bodyguard who stands outside my bedroom door counting grapes.
The water felt like heaven and hell all at once.
It washed away the grime and sweat, and I opened my mouth, letting it fall inside, swallowing greedily, even though it was making my stomach cramp.
The water got into every cut and abrasion, stinging like a motherfucker, and my head spun in dizzying circles so badly I wondered if one of the punches I’d taken to the head had dislodged something vital in my ear.
A soft knock came from the door, and Virginia’s worried voice floated through. “Mr. Guerra? I’ve brought you some food. Soup and bread. I can bring more, or something different if you prefer.”
I hated that she called me Mr. Guerra now, the same name she called my father. When had that even happened? I’d just been Luca to her once upon a time, when I’d been a little boy.
I missed hearing her call me that. I didn’t ever want to be Mr. Guerra.
But for as long as my father was holding Izzy’s happiness over my head, then I would have to be whatever he wanted me to be.
And take the punishments that came with it.
What I hadn’t told Nyah was that this wasn’t my first time in those cages. They were a punishment I had taken more than a handful of times.
But they didn’t normally come with kisses from my father’s fiancée afterward.
Fuck, she’d felt good, hands cupping my face, her lips on mine. I was weak as fuck and smelled as bad as a garbage truck, and yet she’d wanted to kiss me.
I’d wanted to kiss her back, and not just as a fuck you to my father.
I’d wanted to kiss her for a lot more reasons than just to give Carlos the middle finger.
I called to Virginia that I was okay, even though I really wasn’t. I crawled out of the shower and lay down on the thick bathmat, breathing raggedly, though I wasn’t sure if that was because of my probably cracked ribs or because I was thinking about kissing Nyah again.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up to Lynx in my face, shaking me violently, Dax standing behind him with his hands in his hair.
I blinked, and both of them swore loudly.
Dax slumped back against the bathroom vanity. “Jesus fuck. I thought you were dead.”
Lynx rocked back on his heels, breathing hard. “Me too. Fucking hell, Guerra. Why take a nap on the damn bathroom floor?”
My gaze darted between the two of them. “Sorry,” I said, voice full of sarcasm. “I didn’t really consider the two of you would be wandering around my bathroom, giving a shit where I slept.”
“I nearly gave you mouth-to-mouth, Luca!” Lynx said, voice full of exasperation.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You want to try now?”
He flipped me the bird. “What the hell happened?”
I glanced at Dax and then back at Lynx. “My father happened.”
Dax’s jaw ticked. “Fuck, man, I didn’t know what they were doing with you down there. You’re Carlos’s son. I just kind of thought that meant…”
“That I was immune to his brand of sick? No. I’m not.”
Dax looked green.
I shook my head at him. “Not your fault. All I wanted you to do was go to Nyah and make sure she was protected until she was conscious. I’m guessing you did that.”
“I did,” he said quietly. “Didn’t leave her side ’til Lynx got there.”
Lynx nodded, confirming it. But his eyes were tortured. “I should have gone down there…”
“Why?” I asked him. “So you could end up in the cell next to me, getting yourself an identical set of bruises? Then who would be here to get me off this fucking floor? Which, by the way, can we do that now, because even with the fluffy bathmat, it’s about as comfortable as stone.”
“Shit, yeah, sorry.” Lynx got beneath one arm.
Dax joined him and the two of them helped me up and over to my bed. I perched on the side of it and motioned for Lynx to pass me the bowl of soup Virginia had left for me earlier.
He stuck his finger in it. “It’s freezing.”
“And now has your germs in it. I really hope you don’t pick your nose. Pass it to me anyway. I don’t care if it’s cold. I’ll pretend it’s gazpacho.”
Lynx passed it over then sat back and watched me try to get it into my mouth with a wobbling spoon, spilling it everywhere.
He frowned at me. “You want some help there? Or perhaps a bib? Christ, get some in your mouth, would you?”
“You want to feed me instead?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Shut up then.”
Dax sniggered at our bickering. “Okay, well, since no one is dead, I’m going to get out of here. I need to train.”
I watched him walk to the door. “Dax, do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
For just a second, his gaze strayed toward Nyah’s bedroom, confirming what I already knew deep down in my gut, since she’d mumbled his name as she’d fallen asleep.
He nodded. “Yeah. I do. I have to be here. If the only way I can do that is to fight for your father, then that’s what I’m going to do.”
“You know he won’t give a flying fuck if he gets you killed, right?
” I pointed down at myself. “I’m proof of that.
The man has no loyalty to anyone, so don’t think you’re special because he plucked you from the obscurity of the Saint View streets and is now promising you a glittering fighting career, complete with private jets and fancy hotels.
” I took a breath. “They aren’t worth getting into bed with him. ”
He gazed over at Nyah’s room, again, and clearly decided I knew enough for him to speak truthfully. “He’s not. But she…” He sighed. “She always is.”