Page 34 of Unfettered

Sandro shoots me an unimpressed look, but Cristian just huffs. “You’re an asshole,” he whispers, his voice cracking.

Getting up, I grab the water pitcher that was left for Roman and Carter, pouring a little in a cup for Cristian. I even give him a straw.

He gladly sips at the water before I take it away. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. As soon as you’re no longer pretending to die, I’ll have you under me. You’ve been slacking in your training, I see.” I tsk. “No matter, I’ll gladly kick your ass again until you’re back in top shape.”

Cristian scowls, but the wheezing laugh that has him wincing in pain gives away his true feelings. “Such an…asshole,” he says as he tries to catch his breath.

“Be nice, Daddy,” Sandro tries to scold, but I can see the relief in his eyes and how relaxed his shoulders are now.

“I’ll be nice when he stops trying to fucking die like an asshole,” I reply mildly. “I don’t like seeing the Little Prince so stressed out.”

Cristian looks between Sandro and me, his eyebrows furrowed. He mouths the word Daddy and I lift a brow. Daring him to say something to hurt my Sweet Boy’s feelings.

He either decides it’s not worth it, or the drugs still running through his system, plus the pain, are getting to him. He shifts a little on the bed, groaning as he does so. Sandro jumps up to adjust him and his pillows, being so attentive that I decide he’ll get rewarded for such behavior. My Sweet Boy is exactly that: sweet, loving, and so fucking adorable that I want to ruin him.

“Get some rest, Dolce Cuore. I’m not going anywhere.” Sandro sits again and takes Cristian’s hand in his.

Cristian looks at him with such hope and fucking love. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers. He meets my gaze. “Both of you.”

Sandro raises Cris’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Always, Sweetheart.”

Cristian sighs, relaxing further into the bed, letting himself be swept away once again by the good drugs as his eyes slowly close. Though he never stops watching Sandro, not until he can’t open his eyes anymore.

Sitting next to my Boy once more, I wrap him in my arms, giving him what he needs as he cares for the one man he was never supposed to love, but does anyway. And that only gives me another fucking reason to make sure Cristian Amato lives. Because like fuck am I going to let him disappoint my Sweet Boy.

No, the two of them will be just fine, if I have anything to do with it.

Iknock on the partially open door to Jude’s office with my right hand. My left is busy holding onto the two longneck beers. Fuck if I don’t need something to make this conversation go smoother, because my mind…it’s a level of chaos I haven’t faced in a long fucking time.

Stepping into the office, I practically throw myself onto one of his visitor chairs with a scowl. He looks up from his screen, barely pausing his typing as he glances at me, raising a brow.

“And what happened that I earned the pleasure of your company?”

I snort at his dry tone while shaking my head, my body already beginning to relax in his presence. I hold out a beer to him like a peace offering, after he puts his hearing aids in, and say, “I need advice, and since you’re my closest friend here, and have already gone through the same mindfuckery I am, I’m here to get your perspective.”

He wrinkles his nose at the beer as he stares at me flatly. Sighing, he stands up and walks over to a cabinet, opening it and grabbing a bottle out of it before gesturing to the small, more comfortable seating available in his office.

I haven’t been here in a while, as most of our meetings are in the conference room, but someone definitely upgraded him. I’d put my money on Antonio, which is likely why Jude is pulling uncomfortably at the neck of his button-down. Yeah… Marcus’s best friend has definite opinions on fashion, and Jude is similar to me. I wish him luck. Marcus doesn’t fuck with my comfortable threads, but the same can’t be said about the brat Jude fell for…

Taking the beers with me, I sit down on the small couch and extend one to him. At his sneer, I sit it on the fucking coffee table and open mine before he scoffs at me and pours two drinks in crystal glasses for us. He adds ice from the mini fridge/freezer that’s built into the coffee table—impressive—and then extends one glass toward me.

I sit my beer down with a sigh before taking the glass. It’s clear liquid, but when I take a sniff, it’s nothing I recognize. Then again, aside from Allesandro’s favorite whisky, or tequila from my time undercover, there isn’t shit I recognize outside of beer.

I take a sip of it, immediately screwing my face at the taste. Fucking lemons and something bitter. Fuck that shit. Jude cracks up at my face as I set it on the table and snatch up my beer again.

“What the fuck was that?” I demand, taking a large swig of my beer to hopefully get rid of that taste.

He’s still laughing—something I rarely hear from the man—before he manages to say, “It’s Italian gin. How uncouth are you?”

“Buddy, I’m former military, an undercover operative, and then I freelanced for assassins. Fuck culture. I’ll stick to the good shit here.”

There’s a reason I stick out among the Council, just as I did with the Martellis. Fuck the limos or SUVs, and the luxury dripping every-fucking-where. Give me a Camaro, beer, and for once, a damn recliner. Fuckers. All of them.

“So, despite your…unique past, and complete lack of taste, you claim we’re going through the same thing?”

Jude’s raised eyebrow expresses all his doubts to me. I know he’s being far more open in his expressions for my benefit, and it’s appreciated. I’m also saddened, because despite that, I know he’s still hiding… The grief he must be going through over Nario, and worrying about his Boy and both Stars… Fuck. Still, he made time for me, and that’s appreciated.