Chapter 24
Princess
I haven’t looked at my phone since last night’s phone call with Lucio. I haven’t even looked at the cameras or tracked him.
This was supposed to be an outlet, something for me to put my energy and time into without actually having to commit to it.
But things have spiraled so far out of control that I don’t even have the energy to do anything about it.
Instead of moping all day in bed, I sit up and run a hand through my knotted hair.
Slipping out from between the sheets, I grab my phone, wincing when I see a couple of messages from my friends and cousin. But something sharp twists in my gut. Disappointment that Lucio hasn’t even tried to reach out after last night’s call.
Good. He shouldn’t call. And I should let this thing go.
But not before I get my necklace back. That thing was given to me by my grandmother before she passed when I was fourteen.
I quickly wash my face, brush my teeth, and change into something inconspicuous before checking the tracking app.
Lucio is at the gym at the moment, which will give me the perfect window to sneak in and look for it.
There’s only a handful of places where Lucio would hide the necklace.
He’s very predictable, which will make this easy.
My mother is on the phone with someone when I make it downstairs, maybe a relative.
Dad is at another doctor’s appointment to try to manage the symptoms that have only worsened.
I don’t know where in hell my brothers are, but I’d bet money that they’re off somewhere doing whatever Uncle Stefano ordered them to do.
I easily slip through the front door, unnoticed. It’s easier to take public transport because that way you’ll be able to blend with the masses, especially in a large city like New York.
The subway is as chaotic as ever. A homeless man is in the corner, but everyone ignores him, as if he’s unworthy of people’s time just because he no longer has a home.
I hand him a twenty-dollar bill and give him a small smile.
The smallest gesture can change an entire person’s life; either it turns out well or you get stabbed. New York’s unpredictable like that.
I don’t take a seat. Instead, I stand by the exit, my body rigid the entire time ’til I reach Manhattan.
Pulling out my phone, I double check that Lucio has not returned to his apartment.
I quickly pocket my phone before slipping behind the building where the staff entrance is, then find the uniform that I stuffed into a small crevice of the wall and slip it over my clothes.
From there, it’s pretty easy getting into the building and slipping into the keys room.
I sneak Lucio’s apartment key into my pocket and head toward the elevators.
The doors slide open, and I step inside, pressing the button to the top floor, I watch as the number ascends before stopping at floor fifteen.
Stepping off the elevator, I move toward the apartment’s door.
I’m in. I look around; the place still looks like a fuckboy’s bachelor pad. Shaking my head, I know I don’t have the time to just stand here, so I move toward the only place that Lucio hides his things in: his bedroom.
The door is left ajar, and I step inside. His room is the cleanest I’ve seen it in a while. Good. This will make my job even easier. I look in his bedside tables first to see if I can find it in there, but instead, I find the drawers full of condoms.
Gross .
At least he knows how to have safe sex.
I close the bedside table and head into his walk-in closet.
But before I start to look through his closet, I check my phone to see if he’s still at the gym, and the tracking says he is, so I take that as my opportunity to rummage through his cologne shelves, moving bottles of full-sized fuck-boy scents and trying to see if he hid it in between.
Then I move on to looking through his drawers. I’m shuffling through his clothes to see if I’ll find my necklace in there, but just as I go to open the last drawer in his walk-in closet, I hear his apartment door slam.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
How could this have happened? I just checked if he was still at the gym. Have I made a mistake?
Fuck. I’m so fucked. I quickly tuck myself into the corner of his closet, out of view—but if he walks into the closet, I’m done for.
I hold my breath as I hear his footsteps grow louder.
He throws something on the floor of his room; I hear him searching for something before cursing low under his breath.
I’m still out of the way, so I can sort of see him, but he can’t see me.
Lucio walks into the closet and tenses for a second before he visibly relaxes and drops the shirt he had picked up.
“I should probably go back and get my damn phone,” he murmurs to himself.
He quickly makes his way out of his closet, out his bedroom door. I wait for a beat, and that’s when I hear the door of his apartment slam closed. I stand there, waiting, counting. I don’t want to risk leaving my hiding place just for him to come back into his apartment and find me.
After a couple of seconds, I decide to step out of his bedroom toward the apartment door, hoping I’ll be able to quickly slip out of here before he comes back. But just as I open the door, a hand slams over it just above my head, making me flinch.
Fuck.
“Thought you could just slip into my apartment and get back out without me knowing?” His voice is rugged, making me tighten my grip on the door handle.
I don’t turn around. “Let me out, Lucio.”
“No. You’re going to stay and explain yourself to me. Or so help me God, I will hand you over to my brother. And we both know if I do, your little killing spree will be punished. Don’t we?” He runs his nose along the side of my jaw, inhaling deeply, making me shudder at how close he is.
Too close. This is too much, too fast.
“There’s nothing to explain,” I say, trying to maintain a detached tone, but my erratic breathing gives me away.
Lucio gently turns me to face him. I keep my eyes right on his chin, avoiding eye contact.
“I’m sure I have a sexy chin, but I need you to look at me,” he says playfully.
When my gaze doesn’t waver, he tips my chin up with two fingers.
“Hi.” His voice is too soft, too fucking smooth.
I don’t like it. It’s not who he is.
“Don’t.” I stop him harshly.
Confusion flashes over his features. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t use that stupid fucking tone with me. I’m not fragile.”
At that, he lets out a laugh. “You may not be fragile in the way you think you are. You think I see you as a fragile flower, but in truth, you’re like a fragile bomb that you don’t know when it will go off and blow you to bits.”
I don’t know how to respond to him, and he seems to know that, because instead of pushing the subject where we’re standing, he takes my hand and leads me over to the couch.
“Why did you sneak into my apartment?” he asks as he settles beside me.
“Because I wanted to take back something that’s mine.”
Lucio slips his hand into his gray sweatpants and pulls out his fist before dangling my necklace in front of me, a smirk etched into his face. “Looking for this?”
I press my lips together, unsure what to say.
“Do you always carry it with you?” I finally ask.
“From the moment I found it,” he admits.
I don’t say anything else, and Lucio doesn’t say anything to fill the silence that stretches between us.
His eyes roam over my face as if he’s trying to decipherer a puzzle.
What I don’t realize is he’s already figured me out, because when I lunge forward to snatch my necklace out of his hand, he moves back and I end up with my face hitting his chest, practically in his lap.
This is fucking awkward. He dangles the necklace near his head now. And not knowing when to fucking quit, I lunge for it again. Which he predicted, again.
This time, I end up actually straddling him, face-to-face. I really want to slap the smug look off his face. He’s such an asshole. I nearly jump when one of his hands slips over my curves and settles over my waist. Lucio throws the necklace behind him.
“Want to try lunging for that again?” he teases before he holds me by the waist with both hands, right above him.
My gaze flicks from his eyes to his lips. It’s for a fraction of a second, but it’s long enough that he sees it.
“Why did you not want to see me?” Lucio asks.
I swallow, my heart pounding against my ribs. “Because I knew we’d end up in this position.”
He makes a low noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, his arms encasing my waist, drawing me closer to him.
“And exactly what position would that be?” he asks, his eyes now completely zoned on my lips.
My throat instantly dries, and it feels like I’m in a fucking desert. “An intimate one.”
I make the mistake of wetting my bottom lip with my tongue because Lucio’s gaze instantly grows darker, hotter, more unpredictable. He leans into me, our chests pressed together.
“Want to try a different kind of intimate?” he asks, his voice low, rough, husky.
It only takes me a beat to make my decision, and as soon as I nod, Lucio’s lips are on mine.
Hungry, demanding, taking. My nails dig into his shoulders, holding on to him.
His kiss is all-consuming, hot and greedy, stealing the breath right from my lungs.
His lips move over mine like he’s claiming them, like he’s waited too long for this moment and refuses to waste a second of it.
I press closer, my body molding against his as his fingers tighten around my waist, anchoring me in place.
He’s solid beneath me, all heat and muscle, and the scent of him—clean, dark, spice, and something uniquely Lucio—wraps around me like a noose, making it impossible to think, to breathe, to do anything but feel.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, teasing, coaxing, devouring. A deep sound rumbles in his chest when I meet him stroke for stroke, my nails digging into his shoulders, my legs tightening around his waist.