Page 26 of Lucian

Lucian swallowed the lump forming in his throat, forcing himself to speak. “I—”

“What did you want to know about this girl, son?” Antony interrupted coolly. “Her blood type? A positive. Her religion? She was baptized Roman Catholic, but the finishing rites were never performed, and she’s never even had a first communion.”

Antony stood abruptly, making everyone in the room jump but Lucian. “Everything is in that file. Her past, present, and likely future. I will protect you first, Lucian, because you are my son. I would do the same thing for any woman you took interest in just as I have done for this girl. Even if that means making you see what you won’t for whatever reason.”

“I don’t know what it is about her,” Lucian admitted in a breath. “She’s under my skin.”

“Well, get her out. You can’t go taking in strays because you feel she relates to your past somehow,” his father replied, rather cruelly.

Lucian flinched. “Is that what I am, a fucking stray?”

“No,” Cecelia gasped. “Dio, Lucian. Absolutely not. Antony, tell him that’s not what he is!”

“He knows he isn’t,” Antony told his wife. “I don’t need to tell him anything.”

“Yes, you do! Right now, Antony.”

“Tesoro …”

A look passed between Lucian’s parents, one he’d been privy to only a few times in his life. It usually meant his father had overstepped some private line only Cecelia and Antony were aware of. Lucian knew it was hard for Antony to balance between being the boys’ father, and being their boss. When Cecelia came into play, it became an even more delicate dance. She took no qualms about reminding her husband who was the leader when their front door closed to the outside world.

Like now.

It also served as a reminder for the brothers that a man may have the appearance of power, but a woman who was capable of drawing emotion from him could sway it any way she wanted.

“Antony,” Cecelia said lowly, coming to stand from her chair with her palm flat to the table. “Do not make me ask again.”

“It’s all right, Mamma,” Lucian said quietly.

“No, it isn’t,” Antony replied at the same level. “She’s right. I used the wrong words for the situation—terrible ones, frankly. I wouldn’t dream of putting you in the same sentence as that label, because you’re anything but to Cecelia and me. You never were, Topino.”

Antony wouldn’t outright apologize; it wasn’t in his character unless the remorse was directed to his wife and only in private, Lucian knew. But, calling his son by the endearing term he’d used when Lucian was a young boy was as good as one. Little mouse, it meant. Because Lucian had spent so much of those first few months in their home sneaking, hiding, and being as quiet as a mouse. Eventually he outgrew the petname—a long, long time ago.

Occasionally it still snuck out of his father’s mouth as a way of expressing his love without saying it. Lucian didn’t mind, and took it for what it was meant to be.

“What now?” Lucian asked.

Antony shrugged, pushing in his chair to the table. “Be very careful about your choices, son. There is a difference between wants and needs. Figure out which one is yours. This is not as simple as it seems, and I don’t want to think of you putting yourself in a situation where I can’t step in. But at some point, I can’t, anyway. You have to do it on your own. And I have given you every learned ability to do just that if you need to.

“She’s all there,” Antony repeated, waving at the forgotten file. “Please understand why I did this for you, son. I love you. But how she lives … Lucian, that’s all she’s ever known.”

Antony left the kitchen, Cecelia following fast on his heels.

For a long moment, Lucian said nothing, only breathed deeply and stared at the spot where his father disappeared.

“Didn’t know you were interested in someone,” Dante said at the end of the table. “You could have told me. I don’t care who she is, you know.”

“It wasn’t like that. I’m twenty-seven, not sixteen. I didn’t know anything about her, but for the fact I couldn’t stop thinking about her. This isn’t even remotely the same as when we were younger, Dante.”

Gio cleared his throat, looking mighty awkward across from his older brother. “What are you going to do now?”

Lucian smirked, because really, what the fuck else could he do?

“If she’s all in that file like Dad said, he just gave me something.”

Dante seemed to pick up on Lucian’s innuendo right away. “And he likely knows he did it, too. That says something.”

“What’s that?” Gio asked.