Page 60 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache. "No."

"Bullshit." She rolls her eyes toward the dark wood ceiling and pulls her hand back to her lap. "Your whole neck stiffened the second I tapped it. You are the worst patient on earth."

"I run hundreds of men and a dozen docks, Nora. Lying is part of my day."

"Well, you suck at it in bed. Put that on your resume."

She lets out a quiet puff of air that sounds like a half-laugh and leans back into her pillows. The soft smell of fresh soap and citrus drifts between us, warm and clean. The bedside lamp throws a yellow ring across the floor. For a long moment neither of us says a word, and the silence doesn't feel like a fight for once.

Nora picks at a loose stitch on her blanket. "Enzo told me you used to check on him every single night. Years ago. He told me you would stand by his bedroom door in the dark until you heard him fall asleep."

My back goes stiff against the pillows. "Enzo runs his mouth when he wants attention."

She turns on her side to look at me, resting her cheek on her arm. "Enzo loves you, you idiot. He wasn't showing off, he was trying to explain why you guard this house like a crazy person. You don't have to change the subject every time someone brings up that year."

"I'm not changing the subject."

"You just blamed your little brother for talking too much."

"That's just a fact, not an excuse."

She taps her knuckle against the sheet. "You've run away from this conversation for years. I know when people dodge questions. You can't fool me."

"Sounds like a tiring habit you ought to drop."

"It keeps me sharp while I'm stuck in this house with a grumpy mob boss." Her lips twitch with a small grin, but her eyes stay right on mine, calm and steady. She doesn't push or fidget. She just waits for me to break the quiet, the same way she waits people out in boardrooms.

I could stop this right now. For twenty years, I've given people two cold sentences before walking out of the room. But lying here on my back with shot shoulder and half a roll of tape holding me together makes it hard to put the walls back up.

"It happened on a Friday," I say, the words dry and scratchy in my throat as I stare up at the ceiling beams.

Her hands stop moving on the blanket. The teasing look fades off her face, and she goes completely still, listening closely.

"I remember the day because my mother cooked the potato gnocchi she only made on Fridays," I go on, my voice dropping low in the quiet room. "I complained about the cheese. I whined that I wanted steak instead, like an ungrateful little shit."

"You were eleven," she whispers softly, watching my side profile. "Eleven-year-old boys are always rude about food."

"I left half of it on the plate," I add, staring straight up. "That's the part I can't shake."

She moves a little closer until her shoulder brushes mine through the blankets. "How old were the kids?"

"Enzo was eight. Matteo was ten and Sofia was four." I keep my eyes glued to the plaster overhead. "My parents drove down to Palermo for a routine business meeting with Matteo's parents and uncle Vittorio. Simple stuff on paper. They were supposed to be home in two hours."

Nora reaches across the covers and slides her fingers over mine where my hand lies flat on the sheet.

"The house phone rang at eleven," I say, the memory sharp as glass. "Adrian's dad answered it in the hall. I saw his face drop before he even took a breath. I knew right then, before he said a single word."

"God, Luca," she whispers, her fingers tightening around my knuckles.

"Let me finish." My throat feels tight, but my voice stays low and level. "If I stop now, I won't talk about this again."

She gives a single nod, keeping her mouth shut and her palm warm against mine.

"Bellini had four shooters waiting on the old mountain road. My father never carried a gun to regular meetings because he thought it made him look weak in front of partners. My mother was unarmed too." The words fall out dry, scraped raw from ten years of silence. "They killed my parents on the spot. They killed Matteo's parents in the same burst. Uncle Vittorio was the only one who pulled through, but the bullets shattered his spine... he was paralyzed for life. And my grandfather… his heart just couldn't take the hit. Within a week, the old man passed away from pure grief."

"Adrian's parents died right in front of me," I add, my throat tightening until it aches. "They threw themselves in front of me to shield my body when the gunfire erupted, taking bullet after bullet until they collapsed on the floor. Adrian and I were the exact same age, eleven years old. He lost both his mother and father right there while they kept me breathing, and neither of us ever got to say goodbye. That was the day Adrian stopped being just a boy living under our roof and became my brother."

I stare hard at the ceiling, feeling the burn in my lungs. "I went down to identify the bodies alone. Enzo tried to scramble into the car with me, crying and screaming to come along. I shoved him back through the front door and locked it. I told him his only job was to keep Sofia in her room."