Lucien (The Marchesi Family 1)

“I’m sorry, Luce. I was focused on Peter, not what was around us, and… I’m sorry.”

I’d been angry when I’d realized what had happened, but I’d had men patrolling the perimeter of the warehouse. They should have found the man before he ever had a chance to go for Angelo and Peter. I squeezed my brother’s shoulder. “I forgive you. We all underestimated the strength of their attack.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t. Now go get some rest. Devil will wake you in a few hours to make sure you’re still breathing.”

Angelo grinned then, looking more like his usual self. “If I’m not breathing, I’m not going to wake up.”

“Fuck off.”

He gave me a mock salute. “Fucking off to bed, sir.”

I hugged him before he left, needing the reassurance that he was there, whole and alive, the one person I’d been able to count on my entire life.

When he left, I opened Peter’s door and walked in. He was curled up on the sofa. His hair had fallen down over his forehead, and he looked especially young and vulnerable. At first, I thought he might be sleeping, but he stirred as I approached. I braced myself for fear or anger. Instead, he held out his arms, and I knelt in front of him and pulled him to me.

“I was so scared.” His voice broke as the words tumbled out. I held him tight as he sobbed.

At least he wasn’t scared of me. “I told you I’d protect you.”

He sniffled as he pulled back and looked up at me. “How can you live like this? How can you do what you did to those men?”

“I promise you those men wouldn’t have hesitated to kill me—or you—if they’d been ordered to. I do what’s necessary to protect my family.”

“And your business.”

I nodded, hating the accusation in his eyes. I shouldn’t need his approval, but I wanted it. “That’s true. It’s who I am. It’s what I’ve been raised to do.”

“But that doesn’t mean—”

I shook my head. “I can’t walk away. There are people counting on me, people who need my protection, family, employees, men who would be on the street or dead if they weren’t working for me. You saw the worst of it tonight, but believe it or not, I do some good occasionally. And you knew what I was when you agreed to stay.”

“I did, but seeing that… I can’t get it out of my mind. And then I thought… I couldn’t get away from that man.”

“If I could kill him again for scaring you, I would.” And yet, I’d scared Peter too, and I refused to let him go. What kind of monster did that make me?

Peter looked down at his shirt, and his eyes widened. “His blood is on me. It splattered on me when you… I don’t know if I can do this.” He was shaking, and tears shone in his eyes again.

“Let’s get in the shower. We’ll get rid of these clothes and get you all cleaned up.”

“I can’t just forget what happened.”

“Maybe I can help you forget it for a little while.”

I rose and pulled Peter up with me. “You’re going to get undressed while I start the shower. Is that clear?”

“I don’t—”

“You agreed to obey me. I’m telling you what I expect. Now do it.”

He looked confused, which was an improvement over horrified. “Why do I want this so badly?”

“You don’t just want it. You need it, and so do I.”

Peter headed to the bathroom, and I followed him, wondering if I was doing the wrong thing, and I should just pull him into my arms and hold him some more. He wasn’t the only one needing comfort right now.

21

Peter

I undressed as Lucien started the shower. The moment he’d walked into the room, I’d known I was going to give in to whatever he asked. I wanted him to hold me more than I wanted to push him away. And there was something so intense about him tonight. He wasn’t unaffected by what had happened. Even if he didn’t regret killing a man, he was distressed by the attack on his family and what had almost happened to me.

My mind screamed at me not to forget what I’d seen him do, but I pushed that warning away. Because in that moment, Lucien was right. I needed to feel clean, I needed comfort, and I needed his strength.

I stepped into the shower once it was warm. Lucien quickly undressed and joined me. I grabbed my shampoo, but he took the bottle from my hand. “Let me.”

When he began to massage my scalp, I bit back a moan. It felt so good. I leaned into his touch as he kept working the shampoo in with his strong fingers.

He turned me so I could rinse, then he began to wash my body. His hands moved over every inch of me carefully, gently. I wondered if he’d ever touched another man like this. Had any of his other lovers seen his tender side, the caring man he hid underneath coldness and malice?