by Bethany-Kris
Will wasn’t gone.
“He’s going to try again. Something, I don’t know. We’ll be ready. I don’t want you worried over him.”
“Okay. I was more worried about you, Lucian.”
Lucian smiled tightly. “You shouldn’t be. How was your day?”
“Busy. Antony kept me moving.”
“He’s good for that. Anything new to tell me?”
Jordyn snorted. “Antony now has an assistant.”
Lucian cringed. “Yeah. Good luck. I’m not saying you can’t do it, but he’s got a bad habit of chewing them up and spitting them out.”
“He needs someone to tell him to shut the fuck up every once in a while.”
“And you’re good for that. It’ll be an interesting match.”
This conversation felt all too normal and calm for Jordyn. Maybe she thought there would be some emotion or possibly guilt from her lover. There was nothing. Just like the other three men sitting behind them at the table, joking and laughing.
What kind of a woman did it make her that she was perfectly fine with their behavior?
“This is pretty,” Lucian noted, his fingers coming up to graze the diamond necklace Jordyn now wore. She was seriously trying not to think of the price tag on the piece. Never mind the other gifts Antony had sent back to the condo. “My father?”
“Did you know it’s highly offensive to his sensibilities when someone denies his gifts? That’s what he said. Highly offensive, Lucian. You can’t even argue with him because he just looks at you like your opinion doesn’t bear any importance to his final decision.”
Lucian nodded. “Welcome to my life. The necklace suits you well, I’m impressed. Antony has good taste.”
“I’m not going to go shopping with him again if this is what he does.”
“I hate to tell you, sweetheart, but he won’t be the only one. You better get used to it.”
Jordyn didn’t think she ever would.
• • •
“This waking up alone thing is starting to give me a serious complex.”
Lucian’s shoulders tensed at Jordyn’s voice, but he didn’t turn away from whatever he was doing. This time, she hadn’t found him on the deck, or pretending to be busy in his office like the last couple of nights. Tonight, he was in his gun room with all of the lights on and the door wide open.
It wasn’t so much the lack of his presence in bed that woke her, but the noise.
“You know I love you,” Lucian said. “Don’t go worrying on that end.”
“I’m not. What are you doing? It’s two in the damned morning, Lucian.”
“Fixing my guns.”
He was standing in nothing but boxer-briefs, working over the table sitting in the middle of the room. Stress had tightened his muscles, his back flexing as he grabbed what looked like a drill with a long bit attached and some kind of metal piece with grooves at the end. The whirling screech that woke her up started again, making Jordyn cringe.
“They’re broken, or you’re breaking them? Because I don’t think this is how you fix a gun!”
“Fixing them,” he repeated when the noise stopped. “It’s a waste to get rid of them if they’re used.”
“With a drill?”
Jordyn was so confused it wasn’t even funny. This was getting ridiculous.
Lucian waved her over and Jordyn moved to his side. On the table sat two Eagles and a dismantled assault rifle. A bottle of cleaning solution, a jar of oil, and giant Q-tips were all set out on paper towels. Jordyn watched as Lucian repeated the process of the drill down the barrel of the gun, then the cleaning solution on a Q-tip into the barrel, and finally followed by the oil. Over and over he repeated the process in silence.
“Every bullet leaving the chamber has a certain set of striation marks left from the barrel. Every gun leaves different marks, kind of like a fingerprint. Ballistic testing can trace a bullet back to a gun by using those alone. I hate tossing out my guns. This,” Lucian said, holding up the drill bit, “… is a quick way to change the grooves inside of a barrel without messing up the weapon. It creates entirely new patterns, meaning the next bullet to come out won’t have the same striations. The cleaning solution gets rid of any metal fragments left inside so there’s no worry of the gun jamming, and the oil is just good for the piece after a harsh treatment like this.”
Oddly, Jordyn found herself interested in his explanations. Actually, she’d long decided since being around him that she didn’t mind guns. In fact, the dangerous nature of the weapons mixed well with Lucian’s attitude most days, and it was kind of hot.
“So, you decided to do this in the early morning hours, why?”
Lucian shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep and it needed to be done.”
Jordyn bumped his hip with hers playfully. “I’m right there in bed, you know. You can wake me up to talk, or whatever. I wouldn’t mind.”
Sure, following Antony around Marcello Industries over the last couple of days was tiring in a multitude of ways, mostly because Jordyn had a lot to learn, but she would always make time for Lucian.
“What’s wrong?” Jordyn asked softly.
“Nothing, sweetheart.”
Jordyn didn’t believe that for a minute. Lucian was a quiet man as it was, but he’d been especially silent since the Legs and Leather incident. He’d also stuck closer to her since it happened, like he was scared to let her out of his sight. The only time he was comfortable to leave her was if one of his brothers were around, or if she was working with Antony.
There was a price on her head. Lucian didn’t hide it. It was frightening, sure, but Jordyn was determined to get through it. There was no point in letting fear run her life anymore. It was hers, after all.
“Is this about your dreams?” Jordyn asked as Lucian finished cleaning the dismantled barrel of the assault rifle.
The piece was placed to the table with the utmost care. “Excuse me?”
“Your dreams. Are they keeping you awake lately?”
Lucian’s jaw clenched as he turned to look at her with blazing hazel eyes. It was the first real show of anger she’d seen in him towards her since their argument. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because you’ve been out of the bed more than you’ve been in it. You wander the halls. How is that healthy for someone? You need sleep and you’re not getting nearly enough.”
“So my sleep patterns make you think I have dreams?”
“No,” Jordyn said, keeping calm. “Antony mentioned—”
“Fuck my father for saying a goddamned thing!” Lucian snapped, shutting her up instantly. “That’s none of his business, and it sure as hell isn’t yours, either, Jordyn!”
That hurt, but Jordyn refused to show it. “Isn’t it?”
“No!”
“Then what am I doing here with you, Lucian?”
Lucian stood even straighter, fingers clasping tight around the metal edge of the table until his knuckles turned white from pressure. “You were the one who got out of bed.”
“Your noise woke me up,” Jordyn reminded him.
“Well, I’m finished, now. Go back to bed and drop it.”
“No thanks. Let’s talk.”
“I’d rather chew on rocks, actually.”
Mature, Jordyn thought drily.
“Are you serious? You won’t even bother to explain to me why you’re so angry you don’t even want to look at me?”
Lucian turned to stare her straight in the eyes again. “Happy?”
“No, you’re angry with me.”
“I wonder why! You went behind my back and discussed private things about my past with my father. If there was something you wanted to know about when it comes to me, I am the only person you need to ask.”
“I did not,” Jordyn replied at the same calm level. “Antony asked if you still walked the halls, I said yes, and he mentioned you sometimes dream of things. Funny, he assumed you would have explained this to me already. What am I missing he
re, Lucian?”
“Nothing,” he muttered, teeth grinding. “Leave it the hell alone.”
“See, and that right there is why I have to wonder what I’m doing here.”
“Because I love you!”
“But you don’t trust me.”
“That’s not true. Please go to bed, Jordyn.”
“Are you ashamed, or embarrassed? Does it hurt to talk about it? What is it?”
Lucian’s hands slammed down to the table, rocking everything on top and making Jordyn flinch. “Stop it. It’s not up for discussion. I won’t say it again.”
“Lovers do more than just fuck, Lucian. Relationships aren’t only about the physical. They talk. They build a foundation based on separate pasts and the desire for a mutual future. Trust is required for this to work. Don’t you understand that?”
Lucian’s tongue snaked out to wet his lips as he whispered, “Please go back to bed.”
Jordyn wasn’t defeated, but she could tell by the refusal of even his attention that Lucian wouldn’t talk to her about the topic she’d brought up. At least not tonight.
With a heavy heart, she turned to leave the room, but Lucian’s quiet voice with all anger gone stopped her. “I’ll take the spare bedroom, sweetheart.”
Jordyn sighed. “I think that’d be wise.”
Time passed by slowly, and Jordyn didn’t sleep for a moment of it. Lucian didn’t, either, considering she listened to him tinker down the hall for quite a while before she heard nothing. It wasn’t long before his frame was looming in the bedroom doorway, blocking the light from the hallway.
“I learned something the last time this happened,” Lucian stated wryly.
Was he trying to be funny? Jordyn’s patience was running thin. “What’s that?”
“It hurts me like nothing else.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t like to fight,” Lucian muttered. “With you, anyway. Anybody else is fair game.”
Jordyn rolled over in the bed, keeping her eyes averted to anywhere but him. “I didn’t think my question was so unreasonable it required you to be a complete asshole when responding.”
“It didn’t. I know.”
“And?”
“And maybe an apology would make a lot of sense if you actually understood what I was apologizing for.”
“True,” Jordyn replied.
“I didn’t need to be screwing around with my guns tonight.”
Jordyn’s brow furrowed as she rolled to her back. “I don’t understand.”
“All that noise, I didn’t need to be making it. I don’t always wander the halls because I dream. Sometimes I just don’t want to sleep, or I can’t. Tonight was one of those nights. I had too much noise inside my head, so I made a different noise to make it go away. Something else to think about for a while. That’s why I was up.”
“What kind of noise?” Jordyn asked.
“Lately it’s been about my concerns for you.”
“But it’s not all about that.”
“No,” Lucian confirmed, the word so low she strained to hear. “The anniversary of Antony finding me is coming up. Sometimes it passes by without me noticing, and other times, when I have a lot to think about regarding my life, I focus in on it more than I realize. You’re important in my life, a really big change, so this time around I’m thinking about it more.
“And you were right,” he continued quieter. “It makes me embarrassed and ashamed. It hurts me. I don’t want to be looked at like some lost, little boy ever again. I shouldn’t have to feel weak and helpless, but that’s exactly what those memories dredge up inside. It doesn’t matter how much money I have, how secure I am, or how cold and ruthless I seem to others, I will always be Luciano Grovatti behind this person. I know who I am beneath this new last name. A child with murdered parents, a boy with no home, and broken because of it.”
“Are you really, though?” Jordyn asked, not wanting to push the wrong button again.
“As Lucian? No.”
“But you can’t be Lucian if you weren’t Luciano first.”
Lucian cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “Aren’t you going to ask about what I meant?”
“About Antony finding you?”
“Yeah.”
“Only if you want me to,” Jordyn replied.
“I thrive in this world. The violence of it, the greed; the rules I grew up with and the understanding of what was expected of me. I know just where I’m going when Antony is done. I was always meant to be Dante’s underboss, and I’m fine with it. I don’t mind spilling blood for this life. Sweetheart, you have no idea just how much blood stains my hands.”
“I don’t care, either.”
“I know. And that reassures me more than you can understand. There’s going to be nights I won’t come home, and if I do, I’ll be in the shower for hours before I’m cleaning it out with bleach. Someday, if we share a last name, you’re probably going to be my biggest confidant because I fucking hate confession and I haven’t talked honestly in a long time. I like to know that even if you worry, you’re not going to be waiting up because you trust me. These things are good for me, for us.”
“Okay.” Jordyn pushed herself up to a sitting position, resting back to the headboard. “What does this have to do with the Antony thing?”
Lucian shrugged and moved a little further into the room. “I always wondered what my biological father wanted for me. He kept me secret from everyone, even his best friends. It’s ridiculous, too, because if anyone considered the dates, I was born months before John even married Kate.
“I was not a product of an affair. Kate and John were in no way involved before their wedding night. It was all business. And even if they were, Kate would have been the other woman because my father had been involved with my mother for years before her. His father would have disapproved of her lower economic status and half-Italian, half-American heritage. My father could have publically announced my birth, Jordyn, but he didn’t. He still kept me a secret.”
“Have you asked Antony why that was?”
“Sure. Like I said, he thinks it was a mixture of John knowing his father would be critical of my mother and the deal with Kate’s father. We never went much deeper into it. I don’t like to talk about what it means to me and Antony didn’t push me to.”
“Like John didn’t want you involved in the family, you mean.”
“Maybe,” Lucian answered, his voice strained with emotion. “I mean, that’s easier to consider than thinking he didn’t want me at all, right? Because it’s either he didn’t want me to be the man I am now, or he didn’t want people to know he had a child with a woman he didn’t consider appropriate to marry. Which would you want to be, the failure to a dead man, or a dirty secret?”
“Lucian, don’t …”
“Well? Which one?”
Jordyn took a deep breath, forcing her inner turmoil to calm. “Neither. I’d want to be exactly who I wanted to be. That’s what we’re supposed to do, anyway. Find and make our own way. Do our own thing. We’re unique to us, Lucian. We’re not the people who came before. If it works for you, that’s what matters.”
“So why am I focusing on what doesn’t?”
“I suppose it does, too. You have questions for people who aren’t here. I think what’s more important for you to deal with is if you can be happy not knowing the answers.”
“I like who I am, Jordyn.”
“So be happy with what you are, Lucian. You expect it to be the same thing, and I don’t think it is. Lucian the man and Luciano the little boy are the same people. You can’t like who you are if you’re not happy with what you were. It can’t be swept away like dirt under a rug. Eventually, it all gets washed out.”
Lucian had come to stand by the side of the bed, and he fiddled with the blanket. “Since when did you become so well-versed in human mentality?”
Jordyn snorted indelicately. “Since I was born to an addict mother who cared more for he
r drugs and men than feeding her own daughter. Being a teenager struggling to find some self-worth when you weren’t worth very damned much to the woman who gave you your life, it can really screw with your head. It was no surprise I grabbed on to the closest people I thought would treat me like family because I didn’t have the first clue of what a real family was.”
Lucian’s fingers skipped under the blanket, his hand laying to Jordyn’s leg. “Sometimes I think my family is too intrusive. Always around, sticking their noses in where it doesn’t belong … I could tell them to screw off, but it probably wouldn’t make a difference.”
“I’m going to ask about Antony finding you now,” Jordyn warned.
Lucian’s tone grew thicker as he said, “Yeah, okay.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t remember a lot being only six, but after John was killed, my mother somehow knew it had to do with her and me. She tried to protect me; moved us from place to place for a little while. Motels, shelters, and things like that. Anything to keep under the radar. Problem was, she didn’t get out of New York. This was her home, too.
“The bigger problem was that she relied on my father,” Lucian continued, heaving a sigh. “To keep things paid, and money for everything. Whatever she had was probably used up pretty quick. She screwed up when she went to her sister for help. She left me at a shelter and told me to stay hidden, that she’d be back. I remember her crying, because I think she knew.”
“And she didn’t come back,” Jordyn assumed.
Lucian shook his head sadly. “No. A couple of days without her showing up, the people who ran the shelter started talking. They were going to call the authorities about me since I was abandoned. It’d been beat into my head that those weren’t good people, and they wouldn’t help me. My last name wasn’t safe, and I needed to stay hidden. So, I ran. I did just what my mother told me to do and I stayed in the shadows everywhere. The streets were my home for two years. I slept in alleys that were warmer because of heating vents, and I stayed out of the rain because I didn’t have clothes if mine were ruined.
“Some of the homeless helped me when I would let them,” Lucian added, a shake quaking his words. “Some gave me food, others clothes, if they had it. Some just kept me safe from the predators, because there are awful monsters who hide in those streets. And nobody even cares because it’s not their child or family those people hunt.”