69. Luca
Chapter 69
Luca
LUCA
S ix hours after he’d been hauled in by the police, Gideon North was free to go. While he was being questioned, I was on the phone with my father, who still hadn’t heard the news of Francis North’s untimely passing. I’d save that for another day because I didn’t have it in me to play politics with him. My real family—the men who mattered the most to me—were spread across town, and I needed then back together, first and foremost.
Stretching my legs out in front of me, I found as much flexibility as I could in the hard and cold plastic waiting room chair. The coffee was burned, the vending machine empty. I was cranky, tired, and alone, but I wasn’t going to leave. Regardless of what came of the Sinclair and North dynasties after today, I was still Luca Mandeville and I was still second to Gideon North. I would stand by as he needed until he told me not to.
I was loyal in ways my father never would be. It was that loyalty, that devotion , that gave me the foresight to get clothes for Gideon before running to the police station. He’d been brought in directly from the pool in his Speedo and a towel, and the jumpsuit they offered him at the top of the first hour was too small in every way. I’d forced them to give him the clothes I brought, and when they’d finally had their fill of interrogating him, Gideon emerged from the bathroom looking weary, but well dressed.
“What’s the verdict?” I asked, fidgeting with the frame of my glasses.
“It was self-defense,” he answered.
I didn’t think I’d ever know if the cops truly believed him or if the Angelini family had a hand in paying someone off to make Francis North go away with as little fanfare as possible, but I was a smart enough man to know it didn’t matter.
“Seems to be going around,” I said, gesturing toward the door with my head.
Gideon furrowed his brow, but followed me outside, waiting until we were safely across the street from the station to ask for clarification.
“What do you mean?”
“I heard them talking while you were in the interview room.” I scrubbed a hand over my mouth, unsure if I should be the one to deliver the news or if it would be better served coming from Fletcher’s mouth. “Miller Sinclair is dead too.”
“Is Fletcher all right?”
“I had to give him a black eye over the whole thing?—”
Gideon rounded on me like he was ready to throw me into traffic, and I backpedaled, holding up my hands in surrender. “Hey, hey, he asked me to! He asked me to!”
“Why?”
“He pu—well…his father attacked him and ended up falling off the balcony in your office during the scuffle.”
“He atta…he fell??? My office? ”
“We’re going to Thorn Hill,” I told him. “You can get caught up, and besides, the three of them are probably worried sick about you.”
“And you,” he offered.
“Daren is, I’m sure.”
We made a turn, walking across campus toward Thorn Hill. My car was at the police station, but the air and the freedom was more than welcome after hours cooped up in the poorly ventilated police station.
“Bellamy too,” Gideon said. “And probably Fletcher.”
I snorted, glancing up at him to gauge his seriousness. “Fletcher only has eyes for you.”
“He’s fucked you.”
“I said eyes, B. His cock is far less discriminating.”
Gideon chuckled, and something tangled uncomfortably in my stomach.
“Does that bother you?” I asked, knocking my hand against his. “That we’ve fucked?”
“I’d be a hypocrite if it did.”
“No one’s perfect.”
“Fletcher and I have come too far to not have everything,” he said quietly, Thorn Hill coming unto view at the end of the road.
“Does this mean I’m finally going to get a shot at you?”
Gideon dragged us both to a stop and took my face into his hands. I’d never felt so impossibly small as I did with my cheeks cradled in his massive palms. I shivered, knowing those hands that touched me so tenderly had just caused a man to lose his life. The power Gideon North carried was far more than hypothetical. It curled and coiled in every inch of his muscular form, barely restrained and only so because he chose to.
“I love the way Daren loves you,” he said softly, thumb dragging across my cheekbone. “And I love the way Bellamy fits into your pocket.”
I reached up between us, pushing two of my fingers against his mouth to stop him from saying the rest.
“I’m just not your type, B,” I said, pressing against his lips before letting my hand fall away. “I get it.”
“I’m invested in you, Luca.” Gideon dipped his chin toward his chest, searching out my stare with imploring green eyes. “As much as I am in Fletcher. I don’t need to sleep with you for that to be true.”
Swallowing, I blinked hard a couple of times, unsure if the unexpected swell of tears was a result of the rejection or the absolute kindness that somehow meant more than getting Gideon into bed would ever mean.
“I love you too, Gideon,” I said, huffing a breath out of my nose and breaking his hold on me. “But don’t worry, it can be our little secret.”
He snorted, rolling his eyes at me in the same casual way he used to do and, for the first time in weeks, everything felt right in the world.
We walked the rest of the road in silence, and as we crested the steep driveway that led up to Thorn Hill, the first thing I saw was Daren. He paced the porch, fingers tangled in his hair and his posture crooked like a tree. I should have called out for him, should have put him out of his misery. Gideon could have done the same, but instead we continued our ascent in silence. We couldn’t have been more than fifty feet away when Daren saw us, his eyes going wide and his shoulders deflating, and then he was off.
He jumped off the porch at full speed, closing the space between us in seconds, and I was in his arms. With my face smashed against his chest, it was impossible to breathe, but I could have died happy like that. My last gasping breath being nothing more than the smell of the man I loved.
“I’m here,” I said, words muffled into the crook of his neck.
“He’s safe,” Gideon said. “We all are.”
And then he carried on without us, leaving Daren and me in the middle of the driveway, chests pressed together and arms wrapped around each other.
“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling back and checking me over for injury. I imagined him doing the same to Fletcher, to Bellamy, to…maybe not to Gideon. But that was okay. Daren and I loved each other openly; there was room for more between us. Things with Fletcher and Gideon were different, and rightfully so.
They deserved that peace.
“I’m perfect now that you’re here,” I promised, lifting onto my toes and slanting our mouths together. I’m sure my tongue tasted like stale coffee, but Daren didn’t seem to mind. He threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of my head and held us together, his tongue dipping deep into my mouth and kissing me until my knees didn’t have the strength to hold me up any longer.