FORTY-ONE
Luca
B efore we retire into Max’s bedroom, his hair wet and slicked back from a shower, he says, low and controlled, “I’m so fucking jealous of you.”
“Me? Why?”
“You live unapologetically.”
“I was forced to marry a woman and have a baby with her.”
“You were in the mob.”
“Bratva, I correct him. Russian mafia is bratva. Mob is generally the Irish.”
Max finally cracks a smile. “Noted. But now you live how you want.”
“I use a club. I’m not as out as you think. I work for a hockey team and can’t lose my job because they think I’m ogling the players.” I sit down on the bed. “I was only ogling one.”
“Me?” He smiles.
“Da,” I answer in Russian. “For years. I took this job because of you. I love hockey. I applied to several teams after I broke from Belova.”
After I left, the idea of sitting on an island somewhere with all my money left me feeling too exposed. And anyone living in a fortress or surrounded by guards just draws attention. Belova would always outgun me.
I chose to hide in plain sight, and killed two birds with one stone. I indulged in my love of hockey. Being part of the organization, I melted into their sea of staff, coaches, trainers, and security.
With my dark gray suits, white shirts, blue ties, shades, close-cropped hair, and a menacing scowl, I looked like every other guard.
But behind my shades, my gaze tracked Max Ryan. It worked for five years. It’s still working, if Gideon and Dev can be trusted. They saw me in Vegas. So far, they’ve kept their traps shut.
In a few months, I’ll be back in the shadows. Hopefully, as part of Daria Enterprises. A place where Belova won’t dare to touch me. He’s got no reason to. It won’t bring his sister back. And if it comes down to it, I’ll give him the millions I got from Lia’s insurance.
Of course, I have one loose thread to snip.
Looking down at Max in his bed, I ask, softly, “Is that piece of crap uncle of yours still alive?”
“Yeah.” Max’s eyebrows pinch together, his voice cold and dead.
I climb into the bed next to him and his head falls into my naked lap, his warm breath on my cock. “He won’t be much longer.”
MAX DOESN’T QUESTION my promise to take his uncle out. Or ask details. Not that I’d give him any and put thoughts in his head that a savvy detective can force out of him.
Smiling, Max sleeps calmly in my arms all night long. Holding him is the only thing I can do to comfort him, even if it’s short-lived.
Max and I don’t have a future. He’s not ready to be out. His confessions reveal a darkness that lurks within him. A darkness from his past that I can’t change.
That uncle is going to pay, though.
Then I’ll bend the knee to House Domenico for my safety and that of my sister’s.
I glance at Max’s handsome face, relaxed in sleep, painfully aware that there’s no place in that life for a famous hockey player boyfriend.
Well...fuck.