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The desire to again tell her he loved her turned his mouth to paste all the next day. Luka was surprised he’d said the words at all. He hadn’t been able to sleep, hearing her own declaration repeat in his mind and expecting a wave of guilt for answering it. He was putting aside the idea of revenge, but guilt over it never came.
Maybe because his body was too relaxed after he’d emptied himself inside her. He could still remember the way it had felt for her to squeeze his erection as she pulsed around him. Being with her hadn’t been like he feared. He didn’t feel dirty or like he had used her.
She had been the one to draw him inside her body. It had hurt her, and he’d wanted to pull out and run away at first. Eventually, though, he’d remembered the way Giovanni touched his wife. Watching Alina’s face while he’d tried the same thing had brought him achingly close. Then her own excitement had sent him over the edge with very little need to push himself into her.
Watching his cum leak out of her had made him feel somehow disconnected. He’d never considered the possible consequences of their union. His fears had been of the act itself. He’d never purchased a condom because he’d thought he’d never have sex.
They would need to talk about it. If he was going off to die, then Alina might have wanted him to leave a portion of himself behind. That may have been part of why she pushed them to do it, but the thought of possibly raising baby with her was foreign—an impossibility meant for someone else. Just as seeing his cum there between her thighs had felt less than real.
Alina’s gaze found him throughout the day, as if she wouldn’t believe he was really there unless she saw him. Luka had expected her to smile more the day after, the real smile that was a gift. Instead she kept flashing the tension-filled lift of her lips that meant she was worrying.
All he wanted to do for the rest of his days was be near the woman he loved. Then she could finally relax. She could wear the genuine smile he craved.
His body also held tension, though not over what he had feared. A part of him had been terrified that he’d suddenly be erect all the time. He’d been thinking about sex all day, though, and it hadn’t happened. He’d remained limp and soft. He should have been relieved.
The knot of tension in his stomach grew as her gaze found him over the kitchen island.
Dinnertime had come and gone. The Di Salvos enjoyed their meals now that Nera was part of them. It made Luka uncomfortable to sit at a table and eat, but with enough practice, it might become normal. Afterward, they all gathered in the kitchen.
Antonio leaned against the wall at his shoulder. “I take it you two didn’t enjoy the present Alina asked me for? She returned it to me today.”
Luka should have expected the cuffs to belong to Antonio. He considered reaching for the knife at the small of his back, but killing the man would make trying to remain at the estate messy.
The idea of staying ratcheted the knot in his stomach even tighter. He felt cold as well. Which made no sense. He really was fine not going back to the Bratva.
Antonio sighed. “I’m surprised she didn’t follow through. You would have enjoyed being tied up and taken advantage of, I’m sure.”
Luka wasn’t sure how he felt about Alina forcing him. Relieved was what came to mind. The ice remained in his stomach, but heat crawled up his neck.
Antonio chuckled beside him, chasing the heat away.
“Antonio,” Giovanni warned.
Antonio slid another sneering look Luka’s way before pushing off the wall and sharing a softer smile with Nera.
Giovanni was studying Luka like Antonio had. He tilted his head toward the kitchen exit, reading him too well.
Luka knew they should talk. If he wasn’t going to return to the Bratva, there would be consequences. After not leaving Alina’s sight all day, it was hard to follow Giovanni from the room. He caught her gaze to let her know before he slipped out of the kitchen.
Both of them were silent once they were alone in the office. Luka couldn’t do much more than hover near the door.
Giovanni didn’t go behind his desk. He crossed to the window instead, staring out into the darkened evening.
So often when they were together, Giovanni ended up speaking first, even though he hated words as much as Luka did.
Luka wondered what moment he’d be living in if he’d gone through with the order to kill the young man so intent on attacking the Bratva. Luka probably wouldn’t be alive at all.
“I can’t,” he finally said. He’d been saying it so often lately. He remembered they were also the first words he’d spoken to his only friend.
Giovanni nodded, turning to face him. “I couldn’t either.” In the lamplight, his angular face held more shadows. “I wanted to kill him. So many times. Nera ended up being the one to kill my father.”
The hairs on the back of Luka’s neck rose.
His mind slipped to Alina, as it so often did. Ivankov would destroy her, just like he had Willow. And, finally, the tight knot in his stomach made sense. It wasn’t guilt; he’d known that. How long had it been since he’d felt true terror?
Being willing to die was so much simpler.
Giovanni took a step closer to him.
