Page 61 of Prince of Malice

His eyes go wide. “Really?”

Laughing slightly, I can’t help but smile. “How could I not love you?” I joke, pulling him back into my arms.

After we shower together and wash each other tenderly, I follow closely behind Luca as he wanders the hall of my family home, watching as he looks over all of the different family photos that hang on the walls. “You were cute as a kid.” Luca giggles to himself.

“Hey!” I shout, offended. “I’m cute now.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs as he looks at me. “I don’t know if cute is the right word for you.” He shows me his usual cheeky smile, knowing that it can get him out of almost anything with me.

“Fine,” I huff.

Turning back to the rest of the hall, Luca stands almost in shock at all of the random photos of me and the rest of my family overthe years, either from family gatherings, me and my brother playing together when we were young, or individual pictures from big life moments or events through the years.

“It’s weird,” Luca admits. “We have big photos like some of these at mine, but we don’t have ones like this,” he says, pointing toward a random photo of me standing with my father in my graduation gown from high school.

“Really?” “Yeah, my dad doesn’t like to celebrate the kind of things he considers expected,” he shares with me. “Sure, we had birthdays and parties, but he never saw the point in documenting them and displaying them.”

“I mean, I can see that, I guess.”

“I can’t,” he says through gritted teeth. “I like it like this.” He keeps smiling at the photo before he turns back to me and gives a slightly nervous look. “So, is that your dad?”

“Umm, yeah,” I respond. “That was a few months before he passed.”

Looking between me and the photo, he says “You look a lot like him.”

“Yeah, I was always told I took after him,” I say as a nostalgic smile creeps over my face. “My brother looks like my mom. I think that’s why it’s easier for her to be around him.”

“Dom,” he says softly. Luca walks toward me and takes my hand gently in his. “Do you really think that?”

“Of course I do,” I tell him, not able to look him in the eyes. “When I lost him, that’s when I started really acting out, getting into trouble and just doing everything I wasn’t supposed to.” A small tear starts to build in the corner of my eye before I blink it away. “And when she would find out, she would shout and complain, and she would always say that I wasn’t acting like my father, that I wasn’t like him.” My hold around Luca’s hands gets tighter without meaning to. “So when I got into Valmont, I stayed there whenever I could. So she didn’t have to watch me screwing up his legacy.”

“I’m sorry if it isn’t my place to say,” he says, testing the waters for my reaction. “But I don’t think that’s fair on either of you. You’re not your father and that’s okay, but when you keep your distance from your mom, you’re taking away her son and one of the few things she has left of him.”

The single tear I tried to hide away before comes flooding back to my eyes, many more just like it following closely behind it. I lose any and all words I can think of to respond, not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to feel.

My lip quivers slightly as my mouth stays open.

“I’m sorry,” Luca says, trying to take back what he’s already said.

I shake my head, the only reaction I can manage to give. I don’t want him to take it back. I think he’s right.

Before I can properly wrap my head around all of it, the front door swings open downstairs, its hinges announcing somebody’s entrance.

Peeking my head down the staircase, I see my mom and Gianni making their way into the entranceway and quickly catching sight of me.

“Dominic? What are you doing here?” my mother asks.

“Oh, well… I’m…” I search for a good enough excuse. Not even thinking, I look to my side to Luca, who’s still hidden out of their sight, hoping that he can give me some kind of answer.

“Who’s up there with you?” Gianni asks, already making his way toward the stairs.

“It’s just… Uh—” I fight for words again, staring at Luca while I pray for something to happen to clear this all up.

Just as Gianni’s halfway toward us and Mom stands on guard downstairs, Luca steps out around me and makes himself known to them both. Dressed in his disheveled clothes from our multiple encounters and much more obvious injuries than my own on his face.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Gianni demands.

“Luca?” my mom asks. “How come you’ve decided to visit?” Her tone is a lot more gentle and not nearly as standoffish as my brother’s.

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