66. Luca
66
LUCA
“Morning coffee delivery,” I chirped. Ana hadn’t allowed me in yesterday, but perhaps today.
“Come in,” she said, and my heart thumped hard with hope.
I limped in to find her sitting on the edge of her bed and dressed in the loose clothes Angelo had sourced last night.
“Ana,” I rasped, unable to articulate any of the maelstrom of emotions crashing through me.
“Coffee,” she said simply, holding out her hand. I tripped over myself in my rush to give her what she wanted, anything she wanted, everything she wanted, and to my delight, elicited a slight smile.
After handing Ana hers, no fool was I, I handed the curly haired nurse who’d been looking after our girl for the last few days her own. “Sugar, no cream,” I murmured.
“Are you ready to go?” the nurse asked Ana. “I’ll go get a wheelchair.”
Ana nodded. “Take your time.”
The minute the nurse left the room, I dropped to my knees. “Ana,” I cried, heedless of the weakness and the anguish in my voice. “I’m so sorry.”
Ana lifted her chin and stared down at me, like a queen disdaining to notice a supplicant. “For what?"
“For letting you think I only wanted to marry you for your name and your empire. For not telling you I loved you. For—” My voice cracked. “For letting you go in the first place.”
“Is that all?”
“Ana, please,” I pleaded.
She reached out her hand and stroked her fingers through my hair, and I took advantage of the invitation to lay my head on her knees, clutching at her thighs as I begged for forgiveness.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I’ve loved you for so goddamned long.”
Soft fingertips stroked over my face, and I turned my face so my cheek pressed against her leg.
“Come home with us,” I continued. Ana’s bitter laugh cracked my chest open. God, we’d lost her trust. I’d lost her trust. Or maybe I’d never had it. Fuck.
“I need more than just your love, Luca,” she murmured. “I have to be an equal in the relationship with all four of us.”
“Give us a chance,” I said, looking up at her, surprised to find her eyes brilliant with unshed tears. “I’m begging you. Valentin and Angelo are fucking idiots, but they love you too, and you have to give them a chance to prove it to you. Please.”
Ana pressed her lips together, then brought her other hand to my hair, absently running her fingers through it.
“I won’t be forced to my knees again,” she said softly.
“Ana, baby, I swear to you, you’ll never have to do anything you don’t want to ever again.”
“I need them to promise me that too.”
I stood, groaning.
“Luca?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine, just a little sore.”
“From the blast?”
“Yeah, baby, that was incredible. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
When a tear streaked down Ana’s face, I held out my arms, and she leaned forward, her cheek awkwardly placed on my chest as I carefully held her upper arms.
She sniffled, and I reached to hold her around her shoulders.
“You’re incredible. You always have been. Brave. Clever. Smarter than the rest of us combined. And you’re so fucking generous. Baby, you gave up everything to save them. I love you.”
When she took a deep breath, I continued, unwilling to hear her deny me. “You don’t have to say it yet. Maybe you never will. But I need you to know, and I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt it.”
“Okay,” she whispered into my chest. “Okay.” I didn’t say a word, terrified that if I spoke now, asked for clarification, I’d ruin whatever the fuck she was agreeing to. “I’ll come home with you,” she whispered, and hope soared in my chest. “For now.”
Forever.
“Angel,” Angelo rasped when I pushed her out of the room in a wheelchair two hours later. He sprang up from the seat where he’d been restlessly waiting for the past few days.
Dante’s arm shot out, blocking him from reaching forward. “Sofia’s got a car outside,” he said softly. “I’ll walk you there, if you’d like.”
Ana’s eyes widened, and the smile that stretched over her face was so goddamned soft, jealousy curled in my gut.
No.
I’d fucked up.
And I’d spend the rest of my life figuring out how to make her smile like that again.
“No,” Ana said firmly, her chin lifted in what I had come to recognize as the poster she used when she was about to give commands. “I’m going home with my men.”
“Are you sure?” Dante asked her, his eyes roving over us with suspicion. “We can keep you as safe as them, without forcing you into sexual servitude.”
Ana’s sweet smile turned into a grin. “Dante,” she whispered loudly, “I liked the sexual servitude.”
Hope, pure and golden, lanced through my heart like a fucking sunbeam as Dante shook his head but allowed Angelo to pass.
“Valentin’s got a car out front,” Angelo said. His hands clenched into fists at his side, as if he were holding back.
Ana saw it, same as the rest of us, and she tilted her head thoughtfully. “Angelo—daddy—would you push me outside, please?”
His eyes widened, and he stopped breathing for a second, and I knew then, with absolute certainty, that his obsession was as much love as lust. This man would do anything for Ana. Now he had to convince her of that.
Angelo wheeled our girl through the sterile halls of the hospital. She leaned forward in her chair, making sure her back didn’t hit its hard, vinyl back, and he stopped, looking at her critically, then shrugged out of his suit jacket and held his hand out to me. “Give me your shirt.”
Mystified, I took mine off, ignoring the wince of pain as I unbuttoned it, leaving only the white T-shirt underneath.
Angelo took them and rolled them into a long pillow and set them behind Ana, so her lower back was a few inches away from the back of the chair.
She didn’t say anything, just reached up and stroked her fingers over Angelo’s.
He continued to push the chair, then helped her into the car, every movement slow and steady. Angelo’s love language was caring for her, and I wondered if she knew it.
Valentin met my eye through the tinted window of the driver’s seat. I clambered into the passenger seat, letting Angelo fuss over Ana in the back.
I reminded myself that we’d won the first battle for her heart. She was coming home with us.
Now, we had to convince her to stay.