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“Hello?” Dom snapped his fingers in front of Luca’s face. “You planning to do anything with that needle or just stare at it?”
That, right there—proof that Luca wasn’t himself, because he was too busy daydreaming instead of focusing on the job at hand.
Dom narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t bother trying to stab me in the eye with it. It won’t end well for you.”
Now that he mentioned it, that should’ve been Luca’s first thought. Hello, a weapon in his hand and he was actually using it to heal and not harm.
Everything about this situation was fucked.
“I have a question.”
“Of course you do.”
“What were you and Chef talking about earlier? About an apron or something?”
“Why? You want one?”
With all the stitching up Luca had been doing, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to have something to protect his clothes, but that wasn’t what he meant.
“No, he asked if you left anything for him and that he bought a new apron for the occasion. What did he mean by that?”
Dom’s lips twisted. “I’m sure you have a theory.”
“Then why would I ask?”
“To confirm that the guy you think is so wonderful and charming is, in fact, just like me.”
Luca’s mouth went dry. No… Chef wasn’t like Dom. He was personable and decent and didn’t treat Luca like gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. He wasn’t violent or a killer.
But the sinking feeling in the pit of Luca’s stomach told him he knew the truth.
“Deceptive, isn’t it?” Dom continued. “He’s been the most dangerous one all along, but he’s the one you feel most at home with. Interesting.”
Luca’s mind whirled back to the smiling man who had made him breakfast, the one he’d sat at this very table with, and he tried to make sense of what Dom was telling him.Chef…The nickname had to mean something, right? And if not the literal sense, then what?
Luca shuddered as several different possibilities came to mind, each more gruesome, more disturbing than the last, and decided he was best not thinking about it at all. But that was easier said than done, as Luca’s mind kept wandering back to the wordschefandapron, and Dom’s warning not to ever eat Chef’s food…
Luca’s stomach lurched, and Dom nodded.
“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s much worse. Remember that the next time you want to do something stupid.”
Luca stared at the jagged skin on Dom’s arm and shook his head. “How do you do that? Talk about someone’s life as though it’s so inconsequential? How can you be so unfeeling?”
“I’m not unfeeling. In fact, I have many feelings about your life.”
Luca didn’t even bother to look at him before he stabbed the needle into Dom’s arm. “As in you wish it was over? Too bad for you your father seems to want me alive.”
“For now.”
Luca’s hand froze, but then he made the second pass across the wound and tugged a little harder than necessary on the stitch, making Dom hiss.
“Your life? Your very existence? It’s a complication to our overall plan. And I don’t care whether you grew up in Connecticut or in the Fiores’ fucking living room—you are in my way, and eventually I will move you out of it.”
Luca swallowed and went back to the task at hand, his thoughts never clearer than they were right then.
I need to get the hell out of here—fast.
