Page 34 of Luciano

“Why do you ask?”

Without turning, he said, “So I can always look handsome for you.”

And then he walked out.

Leaving me staring after him, completely thrown.

This was going to be different.

Chapter 16

Luciano

Saint sat back in the chair across from me, legs stretched out, the picture of relaxed indifference. We were in a guest room where I had gotten dressed. The smell of cigar smoke lingered from earlier. I stood straight-backed, hands folded behind me.

“What did you call me in here for? My wife causes trouble when she’s too idle.”

I almost sneered. I didn’t think he would bring Aria. But it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“I have never engaged in sexual intercourse.” My tone was flat. Matter-of-fact.

Saint smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How?”

“This is a small circle, Luciano. Women talk. And they talk about you rejecting them.” He tilted his head, watching me like I was some rare creature under a microscope. “You’ve never fucked anyone. Never touched anyone. Hell, never even tried. And I heard you ran when one woman got nude in front of you.”

I had. Her pale skin and flesh reminded me of my mother’s body.

“The only reason people haven’t called you a eunuch is because they’re scared of you.”

I stayed silent, jaw tight.

Saint exhaled sharply, his amusement darkening into something else. “You need to get over what happened to you and your mother.” His tone was direct, unfiltered. “You’re about to have a wife.”

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached.

Saint leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping. “You need to slip your hand around her throat, whisper in her ear that she’s yours, and fuck her against the wall. You can either fuck her properly and often, or someone else will—and she’ll let them. Just like her mother did.”

I moved fast.

The gun was out of my holster and pressed to his forehead before I even registered pulling it. My other hand gripped his collar, yanking him up so we were eye to eye.

Saint remained unfazed. His reflexes were just as sharp, his reaction just as swift.

Cold metal pressed under my chin.

“You really like her?” he grinned, as if the safeties were still on our guns. There was a structural deviation in his psyche, a fundamental misalignment in the way he processed the world. It was what made him— him. What made him insufferable sometimes. It was why I understood him. Why he was my only friend.

“You and I have an understanding, Saint. But do not mistake that for leniency when it comes to her. I will kill for her. I will die for her. And if you ever speak down on her again, I will put a bullet in your skull and mourn you as an afterthought, friend.”

Saint held my gaze, his eyes dark. I knew that look. He was in that space just before you pull the trigger—when the decision has already been made, when the body just needs to catch up with the mind. He pulled himself back, his mouth twitching to something cruel.

“If you ever put a gun to my head again, I won’t just return the favor,” he said, slow and unhurried, like he wanted to make sure I heard him. “I’ll put you in the fucking ground, friend.”

My grip on the gun didn’t falter.

Neither did his.

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