Nixon gives a curt nod and turns his attention out the window. Next to him, Enzo sits wordlessly.
“When we arrive, please see to it that my sister, Cecilia, and Sully make it home,” I say to no one in particular, but with confidence that one, if not both of the two men in the car with me, will make it happen.
We have about ten minutes before we’re at my apartment and already my eyes feel heavy.
What a fucking shitshow this birthday turned into. The last thing I ever expected at thirty-five was to get my ass handed to me. How utterly embarrassing.
Lifting my hand from Raina's hip, I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes tight.
“I’m so sorry, Luce,” she whispers softly, her lips ghosting my neck. Gently, she brings her fingertips to my cheek, brushing what I know is the edge of a gash.
“It’s not your fault.”
“But it is?—”
“No, baby, it’s not. It’s mine. If I’d bothered learning how to fight, I wouldn’t have gotten into that predicament.”
“Don’t discredit who you are just because you were attacked. The Luciano I know doesn’t need to use his fists to win anything. He does so with knowledge and words.”
“Knowledge and words won’t protect you,” I grumble, turning to look out the window and away from her heavy gaze.
“I don't need protection. And honestly, if Javier had played fair, you wouldn’t have either. Notice how it wasn’t him there getting his hands dirty. He had to hire people to do it.”
I don’t answer her. Not because I don’t want to, but because I have nothing to say to that. My body and my ego are bruised, all because I chose from a young age to study academics and politics over learning to fight and become streetwise. My father brought enough violence into our lives, and I wanted nothing to do with him or the unethical world he created around our family. It’s why I chose to pursue law. To differentiate myself as much as possible from the reputation he created for the Paladino name.
When Enzo’s driver pulls alongside the curb in front of my building, Raina slides off my lap and pushes open the door, hopping from the vehicle to assist me. I do my best to exhale through a wince as I shift my body and try to school my features to not reflect any pain.
Glancing over at Enzo and Nixon, I can see them watching, but neither says anything as I slowly push to the edge of the seat by the open car door.
Swallowing any remnants of my pride, I do my best to step gingerly onto the sidewalk and am instantly flanked with Raina on my left and Sly on my right.
Every fiber of my being screams that I can walk in on my own, but the look in Raina’s eyes adamantly reflects her plea, so as much as it bruises my ego even more, I allow them both to help me into the building and up to my apartment.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The soft glow from the clock illuminating Luciano’s nightstand brightens the darkness shrouding his bedroom. It’s four-twenty-seven and I haven’t slept at all. How can I when the only man I’ve ever truly loved lies next to me, covered in bruises and concussed?
I’d rather watch the rise and fall of his chest to remind myself he’s still breathing.
When we returned to his apartment, Sly sprung into doctor mode and performed as many evaluations as he could without equipment, and thankfully was able to reassure us both that he would be fine.
Luciano’s bruises will fade with time, but the fear in my heart won’t.
Even after hours of lying here thinking, I’m still struggling to process how this happened. How I underestimated Javier so wholly, only proving how much of a stranger he is.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think he would have us followed, let alone have Luciano attacked. He took the coward’s way out, but then again, perhaps I did, too.
All calls he’s made to me have gone unanswered, and I’ve been on the verge of blocking his numberagainsince wetouched down after leaving Spain. I shouldn’t have unblocked it to begin with; maybe I could have avoided all of this in the first place.
Then again, maybe if I had acted like more of an adult, he would have, too.
There’s a heaviness in the pit of my stomach I can’t shake, a guilt that’s taken root, screaming this is all my fault.
If it hadn’t been for me, none of this would’ve happened.
Luciano wouldn’t be in pain.
Javier wouldn’t be angry.
