Even if the words wanted to get stuck in my throat, I said. “What about the girls you were with?”

“They were a means to an end. I wanted to fuck, so I looked for a girl and fucked her. It was hard and fast, definitely not gentle. I mostly fucked them from behind so I didn’t have to look them in the eyes and pretend I gave a shit about them.”

He sounded cold and cruel.

I kissed his tattoo, wanting to banish that part of him again. His arms around me tightened. “The only person who could have taught me how to be gentle was my mother.” I held my breath. Would he tell me about her now? “But she killed herself when I was nine.”

“I’m sorry.” I wanted to ask what happened but I didn’t want to push him and make him retreat behind his cold mask. Instead I cupped his cheek. He looked startled by the gesture but didn’t pull away. I licked my lip, trying to suppress my curiosity.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked suddenly. For a moment, I didn’t know what he was talking about. He brushed a hand across my abdomen. “Yeah, but talking helps.”

“How does it help?”

“It distracts me.” I gathered my courage. “Can you tell me more about your mother?”

“My father hit her. He raped her. I was young but I understood what was going on. She couldn’t bear my father anymore, so she decided to slice her wrists and overdose on dope.”

“She shouldn’t have let you and Matteo alone.”

“I found her.”

I jerked up and stared. “You found your mother after she’d cut her wrists?”

“That was actually the first body I saw. Of course it wasn’t the last.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “The floor was covered with her blood and I slipped on it and fell. My clothes were soaked with her blood.” His voice was calm, detached. “I ran out of the bathroom screaming and crying. My father found me and slapped me. Told me to be a man and clean myself up. I did. I never cried again.”

“This is horrible. You must have been terrified. You were only a boy.”

He was silent. “It made me tough. At one point every boy has to lose his innocence. The mafia isn’t a place for the weak.”

I knew that. I’d seen how Father had tried to shape Fabiano in the last few years and it always broke my heart when my little brother had to act like a man instead of the young boy that he was. “Emotions aren’t a weakness.”

“Yes, they are. Enemies always aim where they can hurt you most.”

“And where would the Bratva aim if they wanted to hurt you?”

Luca extinguished the lights. “They won’t ever find out.”

That wasn’t the answer I’d hoped for but I was too tired to ponder about it. Instead I closed my eyes and let sleep claim me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Going to the toilet burnt like hell, and walking wasn’t exactly comfortable either. I winced as I stepped back into the bedroom where Luca lay with his head propped up on his arm. He watched me. “Sore?”

I nodded, blushing. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

I lay down beside him. “I thought you might want to do it again, but I don’t think I can.”

Luca traced his fingertips over my ribs. “I know. I didn’t expect you to be ready so soon.” He rubbed my stomach, then inched a bit lower. “I could lick you if you are up for it.”

My core tightened and I really wanted to say yes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Luca nodded and settled back against the pillows. The blanket crowded around his hips, revealing his muscled torso and the scars there.

I moved closer and propped myself up above him. I traced Luca’s scars, wondering what kind of stories hid behind each of them. I wanted to know all of them, wanted to figure out Luca scar by scar like a puzzle. Where did he get the long scar on his shoulder and the bullet wound below his ribs? Luca was doing his own exploring with his eyes, wandering over my breasts and face. He ran his thumb over my nipples. “Your breasts are fucking perfect.” His touch was more possessive than sexual, but I could feel it all the way between my legs anyway.

Trying to distract myself, I paused with my fingertips against a mostly faded scar on his abs. “Where did you get this scar?”

“I was eleven.” My eyes grew wide. I was pretty sure where the story was going. “The Familia wasn’t as united as it is now. A few men thought they could grab power by killing my father and his sons. It was the middle of the night when I heard screaming and shooting. Before I could get out of bed, a man stepped into the room and pointed his gun at me. I knew I’d die as I stared into the barrel. I wasn’t as scared as I thought I’d be. He would have killed me, if Matteo hadn’t jumped him from behind when he pulled the trigger. The bullet went a lot lower than it was supposed to and hit my middle. It hurt like a motherfucker. I was screaming and probably would have passed out if the man hadn’t turned on Matteo to kill him. I had a gun stashed in the drawer of my nightstand, took it out and put a bullet in the man’s head before he could kill Matteo.”

“That was your first murder, right?” I whispered.

Luca’s eyes, which had been lost in another time, focused on me. “Yeah. The first of many.”

“When did you kill again?”

“That same night.” He smiled humorlessly. “After that first man, I told Matteo to hide in my closet. He protested but I was bigger and locked him in. By then I’d lost quite a bit of blood but I was high on adrenaline and could still hear shooting downstairs, so I headed for the noise with my gun. My father was in a shooting match with two attackers. I came down the stairs but nobody paid me any attention, and then I shot one of them from behind. My father took the other down with a shot in the shoulder.”

“Why didn’t he kill him?”

“He wanted to question him to find out if there were other traitors in the Familia left.”

“So what did he do with the guy while he took you to the hospital?”

Luca gave me a wry look. I gasped. “Don’t tell me he didn’t take you.”

“He called the Doc of the Familia, told me to put pressure on the wound and went ahead and started torturing the guy for information.”

I couldn’t believe a father would let his child suffer through pain and risk its life, so he could gather information.

“You could have died. Some things need to be treated in a hospital. How could he do that?”

“The Familia comes first. We never take injured to a hospital. They ask too many questions and the police get involved and it’s an admittance of weakness. And my father had to make sure the traitor spoke before he got a chance to kill himself.”

“So you agree with what he did? You would have watched someone you love bleed to death so you could protect the Familia and your power.”

“My father doesn’t love me. Matteo and I are his guarantee for power and a way to keep on the family name. Love has nothing to do with it.”

“I hate this life. I hate the mafia. Sometimes I wished there was a way to escape.”

Luca’s face became still. “From me?”