6. Diesel
6
DIESEL
T he next morning, as expected, Diesel got the thrashing of a lifetime. Matteo paced the room, seething, asking a million questions that Diesel didn’t want to answer or have a reasonable explanation for.
It was clear from Matteo’s tone that he was frustrated and pissed. He was a powerful man, always in control, and with Diesel, he didn’t have any of that. Diesel was unpredictable, out of control, and did whatever he wanted.
Yet, still, for some reason, Matteo insisted on holding on to him.
“I just don’t get it. Do you know how dangerous going on a bender like that can be? What if you overdose? What if you catch some disease? You don’t even know what’s going on half the time around you; anyone can do anything to you, and you wouldn’t even know!” Matteo’s blue eyes blazed with the fury of a thousand suns.
Diesel knew better than to say anything. While he might like pushing Matteo’s buttons or talking back to him when warranted, seeing how angry and upset Matteo was right now, Diesel had too much respect for the man to show him any sort of lip.
Taking a seat on the bed, Matteo rested his elbows on his lap and lowered his head.
“Diesel, you got to help me out here. I think of you as one of my sons, and it kills me every time I have to go searching for you whenever you go on one of these benders. I’m terrified that one day I will find you dead, lying between one of those strung-out bodies.”
Seeing this strong and powerful man so disheveled and vulnerable broke Diesel’s heart. He didn’t deserve this sort of stress or heartache. The man deserved to live a happy and stress-free life with the man he loved—who was apparently a cranky gun smuggler.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Diesel didn’t know what to say.
“I-I’m sorry, M. I don’t know what’s wrong with me or why I do the things I do.”
Straightening back up, Matteo turned to face him once again.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Matteo stared at him with soft, pleading eyes. “You just have a lot of issues that you keep buried and refuse to deal with. Please. I beg you. When you are fully recovered, will you please go speak with a specialist? I really think that you need to talk to someone and work out all those dark feelings that you keep so closely guarded.”
Hearing the pain in Matteo’s voice, Diesel felt like the biggest asshole in the world. The man had been nothing but kind and generous and so fucking loving, and all he had done was bring pain and misery to this amazing man’s life.
That had to change.
“Sure. I’ll go speak to someone when I’m better.”
Silence fell between them as Matteo no doubt tried to determine whether he was serious or just trying to end the conversation.
“I promise.” He hoped that his eyes were sincere enough to reassure Matteo that he wasn’t lying.
Nodding, Matteo placed his hand on Diesel’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you.”
Two weeks went by with Matteo barely leaving Diesel’s side. Every fucking place he went, the overbearing Italian magically appeared. For someone whose parents died well before their time, Matteo had somehow mastered that Nonna ability to be everywhere and nowhere both at the same time.
Take now as an example: Diesel had come into the gym to do a few weights and burn off some of that pent-up frustration, and low and behold, Matteo was sitting in the corner reading a goddamn magazine!
“Don’t you have an old-man dick to take care of?” Diesel asked, racking up the weights on the bench press machine he was about to use.
“Watch your language,” the man responded, eyes never leaving the magazine.
Diesel smirked. “No. Seriously. Where is Daddy A? I haven’t seen Ares in a few days. You guys fighting?” Perhaps that was the reason for Matteo’s clingy behavior. He doubted he was that lucky.
“He’s doing some business in the States.”
Lying down on the bench, Diesel took a breath before lifting the bar into the air. Whoever said that exercise was good for people with addictions was a lying piece of shit.
His body hurt, and he was sweating like a pig.
It’s your body detoxing, fuckhead.
After the eighth rep, Diesel sat up and turned to face his secret stalker.
In addition to the twenty-four seven supervision and invisible shock collar Matteo had no doubt placed around his neck, Matteo wouldn’t allow Diesel to work the floor while he was recovering.
Matteo claimed that no one fantasized about the guy from Tales from the Crypt . Okay, that was an overexaggeration. Besides some dehydration and dark circles under his eyes, he still looked hot as fuck. At least that’s what he told himself in the mirror each morning. Even Bruno agreed. Mind you, it was in the smiling demon’s nature to lie his ass off. But still, Matteo was being unreasonable. And to be honest, Diesel was becoming bored as shit.
“How long before I can hit the stage again?” Diesel asked, not quite sure if he was going to get a response. Matteo could be a stubborn ass when he wanted to.
“When you stop smelling like weed.”
Like weed? That was probably the least harmful drug he had been ingesting since he was fourteen. Weed was like water; it barely had any effect on him.
“But smelling like weed is part of my charm. It adds to that bad-boy persona so many guys here want. Do you really want to deprive your guests of my studly man-scent?”
Matteo glanced at him from over the top of the magazine.
“You’re not that manly.”
Diesel slid back under the pole and began benching another few reps. Then he sat back up and flexed his arms.
“You really gonna deprive all those thirsty men of these sexy-ass arms?” He knew he was starting to win over his jailer’s bad mood.
The left side of Matteo’s lip turned upward in a barely there hint of amusement.
“When are you going to start therapy?”
Damn. He hoped that Matteo had perhaps forgotten about his little promise made, oh, so many eons ago. It was probably coming up to just over a week and a bit at this point now.
“When I’m ready mentally,” Diesel answered, letting out what he hoped was a desperate sigh.
He was going to have to hold up his end of the bargain. Matteo deserved that. But right now, he was soooo fuckin’ bored! Then a thought came to him.
“Hey! How about, while I’m recovering, I go help Chase on his next assignment. I heard him say he is leaving for London tomorrow. A change of scenery would be good for me.”
Matteo placed the magazine down and crossed his leg over his knee. He looked like he was posing for the cover of some fancy-ass fashion cover. He swore Matteo had his own specialized lighting following him around. Perhaps he had made a deal with the devil to always look young and beautiful. Whatever happened to Dorian Gray? Did he become a vampire in the end or something like that?
It was in that moment that Matteo’s face contorted into what could only be described as an “evil-villain smirk.” Diesel swore that the lights dimmed, and the air around them suddenly became stale. Something was wrong.
He didn’t like the sudden look of amusement that seemed to take over Daddy M’s face. He was up to something.
“You know what? That’s actually a really great idea. And while you’re out enjoying that new change of scenery—all nice and relaxed—you can meet with Dr. Annetta Bloom and begin your one-on-one therapy sessions. I hear that she has a lovely office right in the heart of downtown London. I’m sure that you will love it down there. How does that sound?”
Annoyance pooled itself in the pit of Diesel’s stomach. He wondered just how much he could challenge Matteo before he decided Diesel wasn’t leaving the chateau. It wasn’t worth it. He needed a change. He needed fresh air!
Hating that Matteo had won once again, he decided to give in to the brilliant man’s trickery.
“Fine.” Diesel huffed, finally accepting his fate.
Meeting with the doc was going to be such a shit show.