CHAPTER SIX
Liana
Small Steps
A week after I woke up, Bassi cleared me to get out of bed.
"Slowly," he warned. "Your ribs are still healing. And you're going to be weak."
He wasn't kidding.
I managed to stand, but my legs shook so badly I nearly collapsed. Luca caught me, his hands gentle but firm on my arms.
"I've got you," he said.
I hated how weak I felt. Hated needing help to do something as simple as walk across the room.
But I didn't have a choice.
Luca helped me to the bathroom, waiting outside while I used it. When I came out, he was right there, ready to catch me if I fell.
"I want to see outside," I said.
"You sure?"
"I've been staring at these four walls for a week. I need... air."
He nodded and helped me down the hallway, through the house, and out onto a large terrace.
The sun was bright, almost blinding after so many days inside. I closed my eyes and tilted my face up, feeling the warmth on my skin.
"Better?" Luca asked.
"Yeah."
We stood there in silence. I could feel him watching me, but I didn't mind. There was something comforting about his presence. Solid. Safe.
"Can I ask you something?" I said.
"Anything."
"Why are you doing this? Taking care of me. Protecting me. You don't even know me."
He was quiet for a long moment. "Because someone hurt you. And I can't stand the thought of them getting away with it."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
I looked at him. Really looked at him. He was handsome in a rough, dangerous way. Dark eyes that saw too much. A jaw that looked like it had been carved from stone. Hands that I knew could be gentle but probably weren't, most of the time.
"Who are you?" I asked. "Really?"
"What do you mean?"
"This house. The security. The way people look at you. You're not just some guy who owns a strip club."
His mouth twitched. "No. I'm not."
"So what are you?"
"Dangerous," he said simply. "I'm someone you should probably be afraid of."
"But I'm not."
"You should be."
"Why?"
"Because I do bad things, Liana. I hurt people. I kill people. I run an organization that most people would call a crime family."
He said it so matter-of-factly, like he was telling me the weather.
I should have been terrified. Should have demanded he take me to a hospital, to the police, anywhere but here.
But I wasn't.
"Have you ever hurt someone who didn't deserve it?" I asked.
"No."
"Then I'm not afraid of you."
Something shifted in his expression. Something that looked almost like relief.
"You're either very brave or very stupid," he said.
"Maybe both."
He smiled. Actually smiled. It transformed his face, made him look younger, less dangerous.
"Come on," he said. "Let's get you back inside before Bassi has my head for keeping you out too long."
He helped me back to my room, and I was exhausted by the time I made it to the bed. My ribs ached, my head pounded, and I felt like I'd run a marathon.
But I'd made it outside. I'd stood in the sun.
It was a small victory. But it was something.