19. Julian
JULIAN
T he soft hum of the private infirmary’s air conditioning is the only constant sound here, aside from the occasional shuffling of nurses. My chest aches every time I take a breath, but it’s a dull pain now, manageable compared to the fire it was two weeks ago. They say I’m healing fast.
Not fast enough.
Felix sits across from me, perched on the edge of a leather chair near the window, chewing on the end of a pen like he’s deep in thought. His textbooks are spread out on the low coffee table, but I know he’s not paying attention to them. Every few minutes, his eyes dart over to me, checking to make sure I’m still breathing, still here.
He’s been here every day since they moved me here.
“You’re supposed to be at school,” I say, my voice rough from disuse.
“I am,” Felix answers without looking up, his tone light but deflective. “This is me studying. Don’t you recognize the dedication?”
I snort, which immediately turns into a wince as pain flares through my ribs. Felix’s head snaps up and panic flashes in his eyes, and before I can tell him I’m fine, he’s at my side.
“You okay?” he asks, leaning over me like I might fall apart at any second.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying not to let the pain seep into my voice. “Relax.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he sits back in the chair next to my bed, still watching me like a hawk. His hand hovers near mine on the blanket, not quite touching. I know he wants to. Hell, I want him to. But we’ve both been dancing around this line we created after that night of “I love yous” in the hospital. It’s like we’re shy again.
“Did Elijah assign your shadow yet?” I ask, changing the subject.
Felix rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he’s outside right now, probably pacing like a guard dog. You know, because I’m so dangerous.”
“It’s not about you being dangerous,” I say, my tone sharper than I intended. “It’s about keeping you safe. The Vitales?—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupts, waving a hand. “The Vitales are still out there, and I’ve got a big target on my back. I get it.”
He doesn’t, not fully. But I don’t press him on it. I don’t want to fight with him—not now, not when I’m barely holding everything together as it is.
“Elijah’s been handling things,” I say instead. “Keeping our father off my back, keeping you out of the crossfire. It won’t last forever, but...for now, he’s got it under control.”
Felix leans back in his chair, his expression softening. “Elijah’s...not what I expected.”
“He’s the only reason we’re still here,” I admit. “He’s soft for a mafia right-hand man.”
Felix doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at me like he’s trying to figure me out. Like he’s trying to understand why I’d risk everything for him. He doesn’t see it, not yet, but I know he will.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he says quietly, breaking the silence.
“I didn’t mean to,” I say softly. “But I’d do it again if it meant keeping you safe.”
His lips twitch like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches out and takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine.
“You don’t have to keep doing this alone,” he says, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “You’ve got me now, Julian. Whether you like it or not.”
I squeeze his hand, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the ache in my chest. “I like it,” I admit.
The room is quiet again, the air between us thick with unspoken things. Felix is still holding my hand, his thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles, and the warmth of it spreads through me like a drug. For a moment, I just let myself enjoy it—the closeness, the way his presence feels like a balm for everything raw and broken inside me.
But then my eyes drift to the curve of his neck, the way his lips press together when he’s concentrating, and a familiar heat stirs in my gut. Pain or no pain, I’m still very much alive, and Felix is making it incredibly difficult to remember why I should take it easy.
I shift slightly, leaning toward him as much as my aching body will allow. “You know,” I start, my voice low, “I’ve been stuck in this bed for two weeks. It’s getting...lonely.”
Felix raises an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. “Lonely, huh?”
“Very,” I say, my tone deliberately dramatic. “I think I might need some…personal attention. You know, to aid the healing process.”
He snorts and pulls his hand back, and the loss of his touch is almost enough to make me pout. “Pretty sure that’s not how recovery works.”
“It could be,” I counter, giving him what I hope is my most convincing smirk. “A little hands-on care. Some...intensive physical therapy.”
Felix crosses his arms and leans back in the chair with a look that’s equal parts amused and unimpressed. “Julian, you can barely sit up without wincing. What exactly do you think you’re going to do?”
I prop myself up on one elbow, ignoring the sharp protest from my ribs. “I’m very resourceful,” I say, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I’m sure I could figure something out.”
Felix’s eyes narrow, but there’s a telltale flush creeping up his neck that makes me feel like I’ve already won. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, but he doesn’t move away.
“Impossible?” I echo, feigning offense. “I prefer...irresistible.”
He laughs at that, a soft, genuine sound that makes my chest ache in a completely different way.
“Watch my mouth,” he says, leaning forward to gently push me back down onto the bed.
“Gladly.”
He smirks, his reading glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “ No. You’re still healing, so whatever ‘hands-on care’ you’re imagining? It’s gonna have to wait.”
“Wait?” I groan, letting my head fall back against the pillow. “I’ve been waiting for two weeks already.”
“And you’re going to keep waiting until you’re not at risk of tearing your stitches,” Felix says firmly, though there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “You’re not charming your way out of this one, Greco.”
I sigh, dramatic and exaggerated, but there’s no real frustration behind it. If anything, I like seeing him like this—confident, in control, teasing me like he knows exactly how to handle me.
“You’re cruel, you know that?” I say, throwing in a mock pout for good measure.
Felix leans in close, his face just inches from mine, and for a second, I think he might kiss me. Instead, he smirks and whispers, “You’ll survive.”
Not if he keeps teasing me like this, I won’t.
Another week passes, and the stillness of recovery has started to itch under my skin. I’ve healed enough to walk without doubling over in pain, but the weight of what’s coming feels heavier than ever. I’ve been living on borrowed time, and both Elijah and I know it. No amount of sweet-talking or political maneuvering can hold back the inevitable for much longer.
The knock on the infirmary door isn’t a surprise, but the way Elijah hesitates before opening it is. He glances back at me, his expression unusually tight.
“He’s here,” Elijah says quietly, stepping aside as our father strides in.
The room feels smaller instantly, his presence as heavy and imposing as ever. Stefano Greco may have aged, his hair more gray than black now, but nothing about him suggests weakness. His sharp eyes rake over me, narrowing when he takes in the faint bruising still shadowing my face and the stiffness in how I sit.
“You look like hell,” he says, his voice low and gravelly.
“Nice to see you, too,” I reply, keeping my tone light but wary.
He moves closer, stopping just short of my bedside. Elijah stays near the door, arms crossed, watching like he’s ready to intervene if things go south.
“I heard you almost died,” my father says, his tone clipped.
“I didn’t,” I reply evenly.
His jaw tightens, but it’s not anger that flashes in his eyes. It’s something else—something closer to worry, though he’d never admit it.
“No son of mine gets taken out by a pack of amateurs,” he mutters, more to himself than me. “The Vitales have gotten bold. Too bold.”
“They underestimated me,” I say, a small smirk tugging at my lips. “Big mistake.”
His gaze snaps to mine, and for a moment, I think he’s about to tear into me. Instead, he just shakes his head.
“Cocky little shit,” he says, but there’s a faint trace of grudging pride in his voice. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” I reply.
He studies me for a long moment, then glances at Elijah. “And you? What’s your excuse for letting this mess get so far out of hand?”
Elijah’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. “I handled it.”
“Not well enough,” our father snaps. He turns back to me, his expression darkening. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Stirring up the Vitales like this? You think they’ll stop at a failed hit?”
“I think they’ll think twice before coming after us again,” I say firmly. “Especially after what Felix and I uncovered about their operations.”
His eyes narrow at the mention of Felix, but he doesn’t comment on it directly. “And what exactly is your plan now? Let me guess—you want to finish what you started?”
“I do,” I say, sitting up straighter despite the ache in my side. “But there’s a condition.”
His eyebrows lift, the challenge clear in his gaze. “A condition?”
“If Felix and I take the Vitales down, I want out,” I say. “No ties, no strings. You let me leave the family business. Unscathed.”
The room goes silent as the weight of my words hangs in the air.
“And why,” he says slowly, dangerously, “would I agree to that?”
“Because it’s cleaner this way,” I reply. “You’ll still have Elijah. The Vitales will be eliminated, and the Grecos will come out on top. You don’t need me, Dad.”
His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t argue. “And how exactly do you plan to make this happen?”
“We use Felix’s research,” I say. “We frame the Vitales for every crime we can. Their smuggling, our money laundering—all of it. We turn the heat on them until they implode.”
His gaze sharpens. “And Felix? What about him? You expect me to let him walk away, too?”
Felix steps forward, his expression calm but unyielding. “I don’t need your permission to walk away,” he says evenly, his voice like steel.
Stefano’s eyes narrow, but before he can respond, I interject. “We’ll make it cleaner. We’ll label Cole as the snitch. He’s already betrayed us, and the Vitales will make sure he’s punished for it.”
“Clever,” my father admits begrudgingly. “But if anything goes wrong?—”
“It won’t,” I say quickly.
“If it does,” he continues, his voice dropping to a growl, “it’s on your head, Julian. And you won’t just answer to me—you’ll answer to every man loyal to this family.”
“Enough!” Felix snaps, stepping in front of me. He towers over my father, his usually soft features hard and unyielding. “If you so much as lay a finger on him, I’ll make you regret it.”
Stefano’s eyes widen slightly—not in fear, but in something close to shock. For a moment, he’s silent, taking in the man standing between us.
“Careful,” he says finally. “You’re not family, boy.”
“No,” Felix replies. “But I’m his. And that’s more than enough.”
The tension in the room is suffocating, but Stefano steps back, his gaze flicking between the two of us. Finally, he turns to Elijah.
“Keep this under control,” he orders. Then, without another word, he walks out.
After Stefano leaves, the weight of the encounter lingers in the room. Felix turns to me, his hands shaking slightly.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say softly.
“Yes, I did,” he replies firmly. “You’re worth it, Julian.”
And for the first time, I believe him.
***
I step inside my loft apartment, and the tension from the weeks at the Greco estate melts away.
“God, I missed my house.” I drop my backpack onto the floor and flop onto the couch, ignoring the slight twinge of pain in my ribs.
Felix sets my duffle bag on the kitchen table and grabs a water bottle from the fridge. “Rich boy didn’t like staying at the summer home?” he jokes.
I wiggle deeper into the large couch. “Rich boy likes staying in his own home, with his own security cameras.”
“Cameras?” Felix’s face turns bright red.
“Yeah, you think I don’t have security in here, baby? I’m a Greco king.” I laugh.
Felix sits on the couch next to me, his eyes wide. “But who has access to the footage?”
“Just me...and Lewis.”
“Your bodyguard has footage of us fucking?” Felix drops his head into his hands.
A laugh bursts out of me, filling the room. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Yes! I didn’t know I was signing up for a porno by staying here.”
I pull Felix by the hand so he’s lying on top of me. “Baby, it’s fine. He doesn’t watch the videos unless I specifically ask him to.”
Felix buries his head into my chest with a huff. “But what if he’s seen it?”
I rub his back. “The only person who’s seen that video of you coming all over my face is me, Felix.”
“Oh, so you watched it?” Felix says with a hint of humor.
My hand slips below his shirt so I can feel his back muscles uninhibited. “Maybe.”
“Multiple times?”
I shrug, not wanting to disclose how crazy he makes me.
“Are the cameras on us now?” Felix glances around.
“Yeah, they’re always on…what are you doing?”
Felix sits up and pulls off his clothes. “Making a porno.”
His cock is already hard. The thick veins make my mouth water.
“What, is that something you’re into?” I smirk as I tug off my shirt. “Sorry, Mr. Pizza Delivery Boy, I don’t have any money to pay for this.” My hands slide up his waist.
He pulls down the front of my pants. “More like ‘I’ve been kidnapped by the mafia and the hot leader won’t let me go until I’ve pleased him.’”
Felix spits into his hand and begins rubbing my dick.
I groan. “I feel like we’ve already played that one to death, no?”
Felix straddles my hips, spreading his ass cheeks and slowly putting me inside him. “I could go for one more round.”
I press my head back into the pillows. “God, I missed you.”
Felix gasps as my hips thrust upward with excitement. “Behave. You’re still healing,” he growls.
He’s so fucking tight I want to drill into him and make him scream.
Felix’s low voice interrupts my dirty thoughts. “I know what you’re thinking. I’ll stop if you do.”
He begins riding me, painfully slow, like he’s afraid to break me. My hands are all over his bare skin until they find their way to his cock.
“You’re so perfect,” I moan. “Made for me.”
As Felix starts to bounce harder against me, he groans quietly.
“Make some noise. I want to hear your pretty voice.” I pinch one of his nipples.
Felix’s moans fill my apartment, and soon they become yells of pleasure. My name falls easily from his mouth.
I string my arm around his waist and flip us over.
“Julian, don’t hurt yourself!” Felix gasps.
“I’m not waiting any longer.” I pump into him, loving the way he feels against my skin. “Say my name, little captive,” I whisper in his ear.
“Julian,” Felix moans.
“Again.”
“Julian, please.”
“Don’t stop.”
“Julian. Julian. Julian!”
I come inside him, long and hard, Felix follows a few moments later, making a mess of my couch. But I couldn’t care less. He’s mine. He’s safe. He’s here.
“Don’t ever leave me,” I say against his mouth.
“Never.”