Chapter 42
CADE
Roman Russo’s Estate - Appia Antica, Italy
I’ve spent my entire life dreaming of Rome through the bristles of my brushes and the worn leather of my sketchbooks. I imagined myself tucked away in a corner of the Piazza di Trevi, capturing the movement of water against marble while the scent of espresso hung thick in the air.
I pictured sketching Lex in front of the Pantheon.
Him admiring the ancient beauty while simultaneously saying something mildly offensive about the cracked stones and overpriced masonry.
Or painting Bella looking out over the Spanish Steps in the spring.
Framing her in soft blooms and sunlight, knowing damn well I’d never be able to capture her beauty.
No matter how many layers of pigment I laid down.
I never thought I’d come here for this. To stand in one of the most beautiful places in the world and watch one of the loves of my life bleed.
The car jostles over the uneven cobblestones, the vibration rattling up through my spine. Rain streaks the windows, blurring rows of cypress trees into dark smudges as Roman’s house comes into view.
But to be honest, calling it a house feels almost like an insult.
It’s a monument of pale cream travertine carved so seamlessly into the hillside as if the earth itself rose up to form its arches. An estate so pristine it makes my jaw nearly drop to the floor.
From its height, the Eternal City is sprawled out beneath us. St Peter’s dome catches the dying golden light of sunset. And further out, the Colosseum sits like a scar carved deep into the city’s skin. A reminder that this place was built on spectacle and blood.
A history that I fear we’re about to repeat.
The silence in the car presses in on all sides. Lex hasn’t spoken since we touched down. Hell, no one really has. The keycard for Bella and Luca’s twisted engagement masquerade activated yesterday, revealing the nearing date, time, and the exact house where she’s being held.
But we can’t do shit about it. Not until Knox and Laing crack those collars.
We were all clinging to that fragile, fraying hope that they could’ve got it done before we had to split up again. Before some of us had to hop on Air Chaos with Sky Daddy.
Before Lex has to bleed for her again.
The car comes to a stop.
A woman waits at the top of the steps. Her navy slacks and ivory silk blouse blowing in the wind as she clutches a black umbrella. Roman steps out first, walking up to her and pulling her into an embrace.
“Welcome home,” she says, kissing his cheek. She peers around him, her brown waves slipping over her shoulder. Her honey-brown eyes flick to us as we file out of the car. “I thought you were bringing more men?”
“Plans changed,” Roman says easily. “I’ll explain inside.”
She nods, placing a hand on his chest. “I was so worried about you.”
“I’m alright, Luce.” Roman smiles, pressing his lips to the back of her hand. “All healed.” He turns to the rest of us. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my wife, Luciana.”
We all stand there, dripping wet.
“This is Lex and Cade,” Roman says to her.
Luciana’s gaze softens as she holds out a hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you two boys,” she says with a practiced smile.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, taking her hand.
Lex just offers a quick nod.
“And this is Damien,” Roman continues. “Lex’s cousin.”
“Call me Rez,” he says, his tone easy despite the rain.
“A pleasure, Rez.”
Her gaze shifts, suddenly stilling as it lands on Daniel.
“Darling,” Roman continues, placing a palm on the small of her back. “You remember Dan.”
Luciana gives Lex’s dad a polite nod, her expression cooling. “Surprised to see you here, Daniel,” she says softly. “Last time, you and your Ice Queen weren’t exactly thrilled by my presence.”
Lex snorts into his fist beside me.
“We’ve decided to put the past where it belongs, dear,” Roman says, his voice a quiet warning. “For Bella.”
“Irina will come around,” Daniel says, stepping up and resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s good to see you again, Luciana.”
“Well,” she says, turning toward the heavy oak doors, “let’s get you out of the rain then, shall we?”
We follow her up the stairs and into the foyer. It opens into a cathedral of marble and glass. Everything polished to a mirror sheen. Light pulls through the towering windows. It bounces off of the golden accents and carved stone, reflecting the storm outside into a million pieces.
“All your rooms are ready,” she says, gesturing with a flick of her wrist toward a sweeping staircase. “Fresh linens, towels, anything you need. Make yourselves at home.”
“Thank you,” I say while taking in the beauty of this place.
“Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” she says, interlocking her fingers with Roman’s. “We’ll let you get settled.”
???
Later that night.
“Damn,” Lex moans, rubbing his stomach. “Roman’s wife can fucking cook.”
“Right?” I say, stretching my arms over my head as I lean back against the headboard. “Who would have thought squid ink pasta would be so… divine.”
“And the tiramisu?” Lex practically drools as he flops back onto the bed.
He’s down to nothing but his boxers. The bruises and scratches from The Blackout practice are nearly healed, fading into dull lines against his skin. He’s quiet. Way too quiet for post-dinner Lex. Usually, he’s a whirlwind of restless energy, but now he just looks drained.
“What’s wrong, babe?” I ask, shifting beside him.
He huffs out a breath, rolling his head slightly. “Who knows. Probably slept wrong on the damn plane.” His fingers press harder into the muscle of his shoulder. “Necks a wreck.”
Bullshit. I can see the lie in the way his jaw is set, but I don’t call him on it. Instead, I nudge his shoulder. “Roll over.”
He glances at me, something flickering in his eyes as a devilish smirk forms on his face.
“Not for that,” I laugh, though the heat in his gaze makes my pulse skip. “Just roll over.”
He sighs, a heavy sound that vibrates through the mattress, and flips onto his stomach. I swing my leg over him and settle against his hips. My hands find his shoulders, the skin warm beneath my palm. He grunts when I press my thumbs into the knots along his spine.
“You ready for tomorrow?” I ask, lowering my voice.
“Don’t really have a fucking choice do I?” he grits.
I work slower and push deeper, feeling the tight bands of his muscle begin to loosen. He exhales as his forehead presses further into the mattress.
“That better?”
“Don’t stop,” he mumbles, his voice thick.
So I don’t.
The room goes still, the only sound is that of the splattering of rain against the window and the steady pull of his breath. My hands keep moving, easing the tension as if I could practically knead the worry out of him. As if keeping him right here could ensure that nothing could touch him.
“We’re going to get her back,” I say after a minute, softer now.
Lex’s shoulders tense again for a fleeting second. I press into his muscles a little harder, dragging my hands down the length of his back before working back up, slower this time.
“I know,” he whispers, breath hitching when I dig into a knot.
I lean forward slightly, letting my weight settle more firmly against him. My hands slow as his breathing begins to even out. The fight drains out of him little by little, replaced by something much heavier.
Exhaustion.
The rigid lines of his body finally go soft under my palms.
“Lex?” I murmur.
No answer.
I still for a moment, perched over him and watch the slow rise and fall of his back.
He’s out.