Chapter 30
MIA
My eyes are barely closed when I hear the door swing open and crash against the kitchen wall.
I shoot up from my position on the couch, feeling the dull strain on my lower back.
“What the hell?” I ask groggily, adjusting to the overhead lighting my brother rudely flipped on.
“Mia, I need your help,” he responds, stalking toward the bathroom and returning a few minutes later. “You remember how to stitch up a wound, right?”
I nod my head, pulling on my boots quickly and following him out the door. “What’s going on?”
Dante stops abruptly, almost causing me to crash into his back. He turns around and there’s a disturbingly solemn look on his face.
“You’re not going to like this, but Leo is downstairs, and he won’t let anyone touch him unless it’s you. I mean I know the guy can be a prick, but this is—”
“Is he hurt?” I ask, my mouth going dry.
“A few flesh wounds and a dislocated shoulder,” he huffs out, taking two stairs at a time. “If you ask me, he’s being dramatic.”
I don’t have to ask him because as soon as we round the corner and walk into the bar, Leo is there, folded over the chair he’s trying to sit upright in. Michael is hovering close by, no doubt trying to help him, but Leo keeps shaking his head.
And then his eyes connect with mine and he relaxes.
He starts to lift a hand, but his entire face wrinkles in pain. I’m at his side within seconds.
“Tesoro,” Leo says, his voice empty of the power he usually emulates. “Are you done being mad at me?”
I don’t answer him.
I carefully cup his face, scanning for injuries. Small cuts and bruises trail up his jawline and disappear under his wrinkled shirt.
“What happened?” I ask, ignoring his question. I busy myself with the first aid kit as I wait for his answer—trying to keep my hands moving because if I don’t, they’ll shake uncontrollably.
“The plannnn, Tesoro,” he sighs. “I fucked it up and I think I pissed off the wrong people.”
I go to work on his arm, realizing I’m going to have to undress him to assess the damage underneath. That’s when I notice the bottle of vodka clutched in his left hand. I turn to my brother and narrow my eyes.
Dante shrugs and points at Michael, who does the same. I blink at him slowly before going back to work. “I really hope you idiots didn’t give him anything stronger.”
Leo giggles—actually fucking giggles. Which is quickly followed by a wince of pain and another swig of his new best friend.
I’ve never seen him like this before.
“We can discuss specifics later,” I say. “For now, let’s get you patched up. I’m going to have to take off your shirt.”
A sinister smile forms on his lips. “We’ve been over this,” he says in a sultry voice. “If you want to see me naked, all you have to do is ask.”
I bite my bottom lip, trying my best not to grin like an idiot. “Do you ever stop running your mouth?”
“Only when I’m suffocating between your—”
“Nope,” I say, cutting him off before Dante throws a fit. “Can you cooperate for a few minutes? I need to look at your shoulder.”
Leo blinks lazily and then he smiles and says, “Anything for you.”
My brother scoffs behind me, but I ignore him and gently place a hand on Leo’s chest. “Sit back.”
He follows orders, letting out an exaggerated groan as he settles in. I move behind him, getting a better look at his shoulder and how it sits unnaturally lower than the other side. The skin around the joint is red and swollen.
Definitely dislocated.
I press my fingers along the bone, and Leo hisses, clenching his jaw. “Jesus Christ, Tesoro. You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“You should be grateful I’m not the one that caused these injuries after today.”
“Very true. Although, I like it when you’re rough with me.”
Michael snorts, and Dante groans, muttering something about going to grab a smoke.
I close my eyes, exhaling softly.
“One more peep and I’m popping this back in without a warning,” I say without skipping a beat.
Leo attempts to lift both hands in surrender but fails as he winces and dramatically clutches his side. “So violent.”
I level him with a death glare before turning toward Michael. “You need to hold him still.”
Michael nods and gets into position, pinning Leo carefully by his good shoulder while I move to the front of his body.
Leo’s eyes follow me the entire time, making my already erratic pulse beat faster. But I ignore it and try not to focus on the clawing feeling inside my chest seeing him like this.
“On three?” Michael asks.
“Sure,” I say, watching the way Leo’s eyes don’t leave mine for even a second.
“One.”
“Two.”
And then I yank.
There’s a loud clunk, confirming the joint popped back into place.
Leo shouts, followed by a string of colorful Italian curse words I’ve never heard before.
“That wasn’t three! Son of a—Emilia!”
I step back, giving myself a minute to let the adrenaline rush through me. “You’re fixed, aren’t you?”
“Debatable,” he groans, glaring at me.
I fight the smile threatening to break on my lips and go to work unbuttoning his shirt. As soon as I see all the scrapes and bruises littering his perfect skin, I want to scream.
I focus on the injuries instead of the panic wrapping around my chest, grabbing what I need to bandage the rest of his body up.
For once in his life, Leo DeLuca is silent.
There are no innuendos, no smug remarks or even cute little digs.
He just watches me as I work.
Every couple of minutes he hisses through his teeth—mostly when I apply antiseptic to a cut or press too hard against a bruise. But he doesn’t complain.
A bubble forms around us, and everything in the bar just fades away. I can still hear the muffled voices of Dante and his men and feel Michael’s assessing stare as I patch up his boss, but none of it touches us.
We’re in our own little world, and even I can’t deny how comfortable it feels.
I ruminate on that feeling, getting lost in the idea of us outside of this chaos. I think about it while I stitch up his broken skin, wrap his shoulder, and clean dried blood off his face.
“There,” I say, tossing some bloodied gauze onto the table. “Just a few scratches, but I think you’ll live.”
Leo glances over his wounds before looking back up at me. “Why do you sound disappointed about that, Tesoro?”
I finally let myself smile. Too tired to put on a mask. “It would make my life easier, but regrettably more boring,” I say, adding in the last part even if he doesn’t deserve it.
I expect another witty comeback, but instead he reaches out slowly and wraps his hand around my wrist.
I freeze.
“Mia.”
“What?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
His eyes flick side to side, searching mine for a reaction or permission—I’m not sure which. Eventually, he decides for me and brushes his thumb over the inside of my wrist so painstakingly gentle.
“I’m sorry.”
Heat blooms behind my ribs at his lackluster apology, but before I can curse him out properly, his eyelashes flutter close, and he slumps forward. I catch him at the last minute, pulling his entire body into my chest.
I look at Michael and ask, “Can you take him home?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I haven’t assessed tonight’s threat properly and I’m not sure if his home is being watched.”
I part my lips, ready to suggest anywhere else other than my newest safe haven, but then my brother opens his big fat mouth. “We’ve got a futon in the office. He can crash there.”
I cannot escape this man.
But no matter how much I want to complain and put up a fight, I don’t.
Because deep down inside, I feel a calmness sweep over me knowing I can make sure he’ll be alright.
Knowing he’ll only be a few feet away.
“Whatever,” I mutter, pushing Leo’s weight off me and onto Michael and my brother. “I’m going to bed.”
They work together to haul Leo back toward the office as his fingers finally relax and slip off my wrist.
I stare after him, slowly threading behind Michael and Dante to make sure he gets to bed safely. I stop myself before I can walk into the room with them, knowing if I go in, I’ll never leave his side.
Before I can go my separate way, I glance back one last time.
I may be sleep-deprived or just straight up delusional at this point, but I swear that son of a bitch’s lip curls up.
Even half-conscious and drugged up, he still finds a way to get under my skin.
I shake my head before turning my body toward the stairs. Although I’m fooling myself if I think I’ll get any sleep tonight.