Page 59 of Luciano

He tilted his head just slightly. “Only the ones I almost lost.”

His words hit me right in the chest.

I sat up slow, wincing, body stiff and aching. I remembered how careful he’d been with me last night.

“Luciano…” I whispered. “You asked me last night if I was broken. Are you?”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

I tilted my head, watching his face. He was so unreadable. Was he angry? Sad? Or just… resigned?

“But not useless,” he clarified. “Not beyond function. Just… compromised. Certain parts of me don’t work the way they’re supposed to. Empathy, for example. Spontaneous joy. I have to manufacture those things. Mimic them.”

He watched me, letting me sit with that before continuing.

“All because of what happened to me. I don’t process things the way normal people do. I calculate. I analyze. I act. But I don’t… feel the way you do.”

A pause, like he was making sure I was still with him.

“I know how to protect. How to provide. How to eliminate threats. But connection? Intimacy? That’s not instinct for me. That’s work. It’s why you’re here. You make that work easier.”

“I can’tunderstand love. I think the chemicals in my brain were altered.But I’ll spend every day trying to understand the parts of you that make you happy. Isn't that all that love is anyways?”

"I guess it is." I didn't know whether we were right or not.

I didn't know shit about love.

He nodded then he straightened his back.

“I have to handle something. I’ll be back in a few hours. You’re safe here.”

I sat up straighter. “Wait—”

He turned, halfway through the doorway, and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

And then he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him. I stared at it, chest tight.

Was he truly incapable of all the things he claimed—or was he running from them?

To me, he seemed more emotional than he realized.

Just… without the flowery words.

His honesty was brutal. Unvarnished. And after the life I’d had, I didn’t need sweet nothings whispered in my ear.

He promised effort. Protection. To try—and for a man like him, that meant more than love ever could.

I stared at the door longer than I should have before sliding out of bed. The hardwood was cool under my feet. I went to the bathroom first, then naked, wandered the condo I’d been stashed in.

It wasn’t what I expected.

Not sleek, sterile luxury like his father’s house.

This place was warm. Cozy.

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