14. Chapter Fourteen
14
Luca
Sofia dropped me off at the Compound's front gate with a barely murmured request to call her when I was ready to head home, but it didn't register as I exited the car and walked as quickly as I could without making it look like I was running away.
Julian was standing in the foyer when I pushed through the front doors. His eyebrows raised comically when he saw me, but I barely registered it. I pushed past him, ignoring whatever it was he said to me. I had a death grip on my phone and it felt like every muscle in my body was wound up as tightly as it could go. I could feel my heart racing dangerously fast as my vision narrowed, and all I could think about was getting somewhere quiet where I could be alone.
I got to the bathroom, pushed the door open and slammed it shut behind me. My breathing was coming hard and fast, and my hands shook as I locked the door.
Brain lesion.
Surgery not viable.
Survival rate less than twenty percent.
I sank down against the door, my breath coming in short, painful gasps. My vision narrowed. My heart pounded painfully as I struggled to get enough oxygen. Pressing my palm against my sternum, I closed my eyes, trying to force myself to calm down, but I couldn't. My entire body was shaking, and my head throbbed with a sharp, stabbing pain. Dimly, I registered that I was having a panic attack, but that meant fuck all to my over wired, short-circuiting brain. I tried to breathe through my nose, but nothing worked. I kept hearing those words over and over again in my head, seeing the doctor's impassive face when he'd said them.
I was dying.
I mean, it had always been a possibility since the day that bullet took a sharp left off that brick wall and decided to take up residence in my skull. I'd been so close to death for so long that it was almost laughable that hearing the likelihood of me kicking the bucket would affect me so much, but there I was.
Having a panic attack in the men's bathroom because a doctor finally said what I'd unconsciously feared all along.
It's easy to accept death when it's an omnipresent specter looming over your head. I could say that the shift from vague possibility to distinct probability didn't change anything because it was always going to happen, but that would be a fucking lie. I'd been living on borrowed time for so long that death had become an old friend, but hell—I didn't think he'd be ending the party so soon.
The doc had done every test known to man—CT, MRI, EKG, you name the acronym, I had it done. Apparently, taking a bullet to the grey matter can mess with things even years after the fact. All the migraines, the dizziness, the nausea and brain fog I'd told myself was part and parcel of having a traumatic brain injury were actually symptoms of what the doc called a 'brain lesion,' or a weakened area of my brain that had begun to slowly hemorrhage blood and grow. It was like a bruise, only inside my head. And if it continued to swell, or if it decided to burst?
Lights out. For good this time.
The doc offered to send me upstate to a specialist to talk about alternatives—where the lesion was, he’d explained, ruled surgery out of the question. That would kill me even faster than the lesion. But when he started throwing around things like homeopathic remedies and alterative medications, I knew I wasn’t going to be following up on that. I was done being poked and prodded and experimented on, just to have the same outcome anyway. That was the last grasp of desperate doctors, curious to see what would happen.
I took a deep breath, trying to force air into my lungs. My heart was still racing, and I pressed my palms to the floor, trying to ground myself. My head was pounding, ears ringing, but I wasn't sure if that was real or if I was imagining it. All I could think about was this thing in my head pulsing and swelling bigger and bigger...
"I don't want to die." I said it in a voice so small it didn't sound like my own. The words echoed in my mind, and I said them again, louder. "I don't want to die."
I wanted to live. I wanted to see Sofia every morning and kiss her goodnight for the rest of my life. I wanted to romance her and spoil her and make love to her. I wanted to bury myself inside her and make her come so many times she'd never want anyone else. Until my name was the only one on her lips. I wanted to hear her laugh and see her smile, to find her dream job and give her anything her heart desired. I wanted to watch her grow old with me and hold her hand as we laid side by side, waiting to meet our maker.
But none of that was going to happen now.
Goddamnit, I loved her. I was in love with her in a way that I'd never thought possible before. More than I ever felt for Emilia. And I was going to have to watch her walk away and let her believe that I didn't want her, that I didn't feel anything for her, because I couldn't bear the thought of telling her the truth.
Sofia deserved someone who could give her the world, but I probably wasn't going to be around long enough to do any of those things.
The panic attack gradually eased its grip, but in its wake I felt…numb. Scraped out from the inside. Hollow. My head still ached, but it was nothing compared to the constriction in my chest, the deep, unrelenting pressure of impending loss.
I pushed myself up off the floor and stumbled over to the sink. I splashed some water on my face, trying to rinse away the last remnants of tears and sweat. I hadn’t realized I’d been crying. My eyes were bloodshot, and I looked like death warmed over. I'd never felt more tired in my life, and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep for the next 36 hours straight. But there was no rest for the wicked. Not when I had a family who needed me.
I straightened my jacket, trying to look presentable, then opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
Of all the fucking people in the world, Dominic Moretti was waiting for me.
He leaned against the opposite wall, dressed in a dark suit, but the jacket was open, revealing a gun and holster. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he was glaring at me with such intensity that I could practically feel the heat from here.
"Well, well, well." He sneered, pushing himself up off the wall. "Look what the cat dragged in."
"What do you want, Dom?" I didn't have time for his shit, not today.
"I'm surprised you can even show your face around here after what you did—scars aside of course. Fucking hell, but you're ugly. How's it feel, pretty boy? Being the ugly one for once."
"Fuck off, Dom. I don't have the time or patience for your bullshit." I started to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
"You don't get to walk away from me. Not after what you did."
"What I did?" I whirled around, yanking my arm out of his grasp. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Emilia." He leaned in close, lowering his voice. "I know you helped her."
"Get away from me. I don't have time for your paranoid delusions right now." I tried to push past him, but he blocked my path.
"I know you were working with the Irish, Luca. Don't try to deny it. You betrayed us. You betrayed me ."
He stepped closer, his voice a low growl. "You know damn well what I'm talking about. You helped Emilia escape. You betrayed us to the Irish, and for what—a piece of ass? Emilia ended up running away with that fuckboy Irishman anyway." Dom laughed cruelly. "All that effort, all that risk, and she left you for Doyle in the end. You know, I'd almost feel sorry for you if you weren't so fucking pathetic."
Rage I was all too familiar with ignited at the sound of Emilia’s name. Dominic had made her life a living hell after she’d turned down his brother, Angel. Loyalty to the family was ingrained in my blood, but I had no doubt Dominic would’ve killed her. I’d do what I did again and again if it meant keeping her safe.
But was the rage I felt for Emilia, or Sofia? Both had been hurt by Dominic and Angel’s obsession, but at least Emilia got her happily ever after. Sofia was still looking for hers after years of loss. She’d lost her innocence, her sense of safety, her faith in her family. She’d even lost her friend in the most brutal way possible, murdered right in front of her by someone she knew and once trusted. And me? I was going to lose her too as a direct if not delayed result of what had happened in that alley. Only this time, I wouldn’t be around to protect the one I loved.
The thoughts filtered through my brain rapid-fire, but I wasn’t in a state to examine them, or the fact that my protective instinct had switched from Emilia to Sofia. Explosive anger rekindled, burning away all reasonable thought.
"Shut your fucking mouth." I snarled, shoving him against the wall. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"I know enough. Enough to put a bullet in your brain and nobody would think twice."
He shoved me back, his eyes flashing with glee. I knew he was baiting me, but the culmination of events that had led up to this point had me taking the bait willingly.
"Then why don't you do me a favor and get on with it?"
Dom grabbed a fistful of my shirt and dragged me close until we were almost nose to nose. “I don’t think I will. Because I see that look in your eyes—oh, sorry, your eye —and underneath all that anger? You’re scared. The great Luca Mariano, Lorenzo’s little pet charity case, is scared. And you know what? I like you like that. Maybe I’ll keep you in my pocket for a while. Nobody has to know. It’ll be our little secret…provided you’re a good little boy and do what you’re told. After all, I’d hate for something to happen to Dante or Julian…or Sofia.”
He licked his lips. “Mmm, yeah. Sofia. You know, it’s a shame that Emilia’s gone, but Sofia? She’s filled out quite nicely. A juicy little piece of ass, just ripe for the taking—”
“You bastard!”
I broke Dominic’s hold on my shirt and shoved him back. Dom tried to sweep my legs out from under me as I lunged at him, but instead of going down I just let myself fall forward, wrapping my hands around his throat.
"Enough!" Julian waded into the fight, stepping between us. Dante was there too, and he grabbed me by the arms from behind and hauled me back. “Luca, stop it!”
“What the hell’s going on down there?!” A door slammed open on the mezzanine, and Sal leaned over balcony.
Dominic looked up at his uncle and grinned. “Just explaining some of the ground rules to Luca, here. It’s been a while, and I’m afraid he’s forgotten his manners. It’s all right, though. I think my message made it through loud and clear. Didn’t it, Luca?”
I started forward again, but Dante tightened his grip, growling in my ear to shut the fuck up.
“I don’t care if you two are about to kill each other or pick out curtains together, do it fucking quietly. A man can’t even hear himself think. Dominic, get your ass up here, I need you.”
Dominic brushed Julian’s hand from his chest and started up the stairs with a parting grin. I started after him, but Julian blocked my way. "Luca, go cool off. Now."
Dante grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the door.
"Get your hands off me." I jerked free, but he stopped me with a hand on my chest. "Let it go, Luca. Dominic's got one hell of a right, and you're still not too steady on your feet."
"Fuck you," I growled, shoving him back. "I'm not a fucking invalid."
"No, but you're head's not right, man. Not right now, anyway."
He was right. The rational part of me understood that. But the part of me that wanted to tear Dominic limb from limb didn't care. I was so tired of being treated like some kind of fragile thing. So tired of watching, powerless, from the sidelines while the people I loved were ripped away from me.
And soon, even that wouldn't matter anymore.
"Fuck!" The rage exploded, and my fist connected with the wall. Sweet pain shot up my arm, and I relished it. At least it made me feel alive.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but you need to chill the fuck out." Dante stepped closer, mild concern etched across his features. He took my hand in his, examining my bloodied knuckles. "You're gonna need to ice that, or you're gonna be in a world of hurt."
"Like it matters," I said, yanking my hand away. "I'm already in a world of hurt."
He cocked his head to the side, studying me. Then he sighed heavily. " I am so not cut out for this touchy-feely bullshit. I'd leave this to Julian, but he currently has a Dominic sized problem on his hands. All right, let's have it. What happened?"
I shook my head. "Nothing. It's fine."
"Oh, and you just decided to tune up Dominic out of nowhere? It's obviously not fucking fine if you're punching walls. You, Mr. Level-headed optimism. This isn't like you."
"Don't you have someplace else to be?"
Dante snorted. "Nah, I'm good. I'll wait."
"For what?"
"For you to get over your little temper tantrum so we can talk like adults. Fuck—listen to me. I sound like Julian."
And just like that, all the fight went out of me. I couldn't help but smile a little at the look of mock-horror on Dante's face. "I guess you do."
"Now, are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?"
He let me go, and I slumped down onto the bench, resting my elbows on my knees and burying my head in my hands. "I'm just...I'm tired, man. I'm so fucking tired."
Dante sat down next to me, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "I hear ya. It's been a rough couple of years. But things are turning around. We're going to see this thing through for Julian, and he's going to make us whole again. You just gotta hang in there a little bit longer."
I lifted my head, turning to look at him. "I'm not so sure about that."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I scrubbed a hand over my face, sighing heavily. Coming to terms with my impending demise was something I wasn’t ready for yet, and I sure wasn't ready to tell anybody, even though out of anyone, Dante's black heart was probably the one most likely to take it in stride. Nothing rattled him, ever. He had no patience for sentimentality.
"I guess your gallows humor is rubbing off on me," I said, trying for a smile.
"Well, whatever it is, knock it off. It's fucking annoying. I'm supposed to be the morbid one, not you." Dante stuck out a hand and hauled me to my feet. "Come on. Get your tampons together, Shirley, because we've got some clean-up to do after your boy Dominic."
***
What a fucking mess.
The damage Dominic had left in his wake around North Boston was causing such an uproar in the community, it was a miracle the cops weren’t breaking down our front door. Dante and I spent the day smoothing ruffled feathers and leveraging threats where that failed—Dante, mostly, because I still wasn't too good with the face-to-face stuff. Actually, I wasn't sure why I was there at all, but I guess a guy as big and fucked up-looking as me was an intimidating enough prop to tote around. By the time we got back to the compound it was dark, but the fires were out. For now.
Dante drove me home. He pulled up to the curb and cut the engine. We sat in silence for a moment, and then he turned to face me.
"Listen, I know you're going through some shit right now," he said, his voice surprisingly soft. "And I'm not very good at this sort of thing, but if you ever need to talk, I'm here. Julian too, though the guy's practically a robot and worse than I am about feelings, so...wow. No, actually, you're screwed."
I laughed at that, surprising myself. "Thanks, man. I'll keep that in mind."
"Seriously. Don't be a martyr, okay? Not again. It's fucking annoying."
"Okay, okay, I get the message."
"Good," Dante said, clapping me on the back. "Now get out of my car."
The apartment was empty when I got inside, the lights dark. I tossed my keys on the table and headed for the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge along the way. The doctor had scolded me for drinking, but given my diagnosis, I didn't think it really mattered anymore. Besides, after the day I'd had, I needed it.
I was halfway through the bottle when the door opened, and Sofia walked in, her cheeks flushed. She had a box in her arms, and she set it down on the table before she noticed me sitting in the dark.
"Jesus Christ," she said, putting a hand to her heart. "You scared me half to death!"
"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's fine." She brushed past me into the kitchen, her tone forced and light. "I'm just jumpy, that's all. You know, after everything. How was work?"
"Sofia, come sit down," I said, taking her by the wrist when she tried to pull away. "Hey, I want to talk to you. Please."
Sofia sank down onto the couch, her eyes wide and wary. "What is it?"
"Listen, I'm sorry about earlier. About this morning. I don't want you to think that I'm trying to push you away. Because I'm not. Things just get...jumbled up sometimes for me, and I need some space to work it all out in my head. I'm sorry if I hurt you."
"Is there something you're not telling me? About what the doctor said?"
The clear spike of worry in her tone made my stomach clench, and I quickly backpedaled. "No, no. Nothing like that. It was just...a lot, being there again, and this week's been a lot all ready. I still want to take you out. In fact, maybe we can make it a whole thing. Like...a date."
Her eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline. "A date?"
"Yeah, why not? Dinner, dancing, movie, whatever you want. The whole shooting match. Just the two of us."
"Where is this coming from?"
Where was this coming from? I knew the answer, and it made my heart clench painfully.
I had spent so much time fighting this thing between us. Now, it all seemed silly. The truth was, I was dying, and I wanted to spend as much time with Sofia as I could before I was gone. Just being around her made me happier than I had ever been; I realized that now. That was what the panic attack earlier had been about. Not that I was dying, but that I was going to lose Sofia. The happiness she brought, the sunshine, was going to be gone soon, and I wasn't ready. But I was lucky. Death comes for us all, and but I had one last chance to do it right and hold on to that happiness for as long as I could. I would be a fool not to take it.
I leaned back on the couch, resting my head against the cushion and leaning towards her. This close, I could see the little flecks of gold in Sofia's eyes and count every single one of her eyelashes. She was so breathtakingly beautiful.
“I…” The words died in my throat. Was this fair to her? I could tell there was some attraction on Sofia’s part, but was it selfish of me to give in and lead her on into a potential relationship that had no possibility of a happy ending?
I knew the answer to that. I would break her heart.
You could tell her the truth—all of it. Tell her about your diagnosis. Tell her about your feelings for her, realized only now that it’s too late. Open yourself up to her and put your heart on the line and let her decide…
No. I couldn’t do that. Sofia had so much already resting on her shoulders, I couldn’t saddle her with a declaration of love—because yes, I realized now that I was dangerously close to falling in love with her—in the same breath that I told her I was dying. I couldn’t do that to her. Every moment we’d be together from then on would be tainted by the specter of death looming over us, and it might even push her into a direction she wouldn’t have gone otherwise. Loving me out of pity instead of any real sense of the word. Now that I thought about it, the whole thing seemed manipulative and cruel.
The right thing to do would be to cut this off completely before it went any further, but I was weak when it came to Sofia. I was already ruined. She didn’t have to be, though. Not if I was careful.
Right there, sitting on the couch with Sofia, frozen in time, I made a vow. I would indulge in this thing brewing between us as long as I could, but I would keep it casual. Lighthearted. We could have fun, create some lasting memories that one day, after I was gone, she could look back fondly on. Sofia could never, ever find out just how strongly I felt or how close the ending for us was. I wasn’t going to let her get hurt again. Not over me.
"I guess I've spent long enough being a grumpy asshole." My hands dwarfed hers when I took it and pulled it into my lap. "I don't want to waste any more time. I want to be happy."
She smiled, a little of the worry draining from her face. "You deserve to be happy."
"So do you." I gave her a little smile. "Just don't go falling in love with me, okay?"
"No promises there."
The words were light, teasing, but there was something in her eyes that made me pause. That was my one caveat—I couldn't let Sofia fall in love with me. I wasn't going to hurt her like that. This had to be just about having fun, enjoying each other's company, and maybe a little sex if she wanted it. No feelings, no attachments. It was better for both of us that way.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Sofia, I—"
"It's fine," she said, her smile fading a little. "I know. I understand. I promise I won't make it weird. I know you’ve been through a lot after…well, after Emilia, and I—"
"It's not that."
"What, then?"
"I just..." I reached over and took her hand, lacing our fingers together. "I just don't want to get your hopes up. For something more. You know, this doesn't have to be a thing. We can just have fun. I won't get all clingy or start demanding more than you want to give. I don't want to hurt you."
"That's not what I'm worried about. I’m worried about you getting hurt in this, Luca. Emilia affected you more than you’ll admit, and I don’t want to be your rebound. I don’t want you to try to find her in me or push yourself into a situation you’re not comfortable with or one you have to think twice about."
“It’s not about Emilia—”
“I think it is. Like that kiss, the other night. It was like, one second you were with me and the next, you were gone.” Sofia squeezed my hand. “And that’s okay, but I don’t want you rushing into anything you’re not ready for.”
It was so ironic that Sofia was the one worried about hurting me . The thought that Emilia still had a hold on me after everything I’d been through was almost laughable. She didn’t hold a candle to Sofia. I almost opened my mouth to reassure her, but I stopped myself. If she thought I was still trying to get over Emilia, then maybe she’d understand my reluctance to let things get too serious.
“You know, you’re right.” I exhaled heavily, relieved even though I was perpetuating the lie. “Maybe we should just keep things casual between us, then? You know, take things slow and see where they go?”
I could see the hurt in her eyes, but I pushed it away. The look on Sofia's face was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm glow and a smile. “Yes. I’d like that.”
I reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, letting my hand linger on her cheek. She leaned into my touch, closing her eyes and sighing softly.
"You're so beautiful," I murmured. "Every time I see you, I have to remind myself to breathe."
Sofia opened her eyes, and the look she gave me was so intense it made my heart stutter in my chest. She didn't say anything, she didn't need to.
We'd danced around this moment for weeks now, and as much as I'd been fighting it, I wanted it. I wanted to feel her pressed up against me, wanted to feel her breath on my neck and hear her moan my name.
I slid my hand around the back of her neck and drew her in, pressing my lips against hers. Sofia sighed again, a low, soft sound, and wrapped her arms around my neck, opening her mouth under mine. My tongue snaked into her mouth, tasting her, drinking in the sweetness of her. She tasted like strawberries and vanilla, like something forbidden.
My heart thudded painfully, blood thundering in my ears as I leaned over and laid Sofia back on the couch. I trailed kisses down her neck, nipping and sucking at her pulse point until she whimpered.
"Luca..."
Her hands were in my hair, tugging on it gently. I kissed her again, hard and deep, my hands roaming over her body. I felt like a drowning man, desperate for air. My lips burned with every kiss, and I knew that if I died tomorrow, I would die happy.
Sofia pulled at the hem of my shirt, trying to pull it off, but I stopped her, catching her hands and pinning them above her head. "Not yet, sweetheart. I want to take my time with you. I want to make every second count."
I punctuated every word with a soft kiss down her throat until she whimpered. And I meant every single one of them. I would let myself indulge in Sofia, because it was just a passing thing.
I would be gone before she got too attached.