Page 102 of Breaking Lucia

Saint looks genuinely hurt for a moment, but he backs off. “Fine. I’ll sleep next to Victor.”

There’s a tense silence until Victor stands up. “That’s settled then. Lucia, you may use the shower here. And then we can all finally get some sleep.”

“I want something to wear,” I say, trying to see just how far I can push before they start slipping back into their old ways. “Even if it’s just a shirt for now. I know you have clothes for me, Victor.”

He nods while he unbuttons his shirt. “There are pajamas already in the bathroom for you.”

It surprises me, and I blink at him before I catch myself. “Oh. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says simply.

I leave them behind as I go to Victor’s shower, and I lose myself in there for a long time trying to wash away all traces of today. It’s been long and grueling, stressful and heartbreaking, and I’ve come out of it feeling… strange. Not in control and confident, but not weak and pathetic either. I don’t feel like my normal self, but I feel closer to it than I have in the past month.

When I finally get out, I dry off and look at the pajamas Victor has left for me. It’s a pale pink tank top edged with lace and a pair of short shorts lined with the same sort of lace. It’s sexy, which doesn’t surprise me. It’s not like I really thought he’d let me dress in some frumpy nightgown.

It’s better than nothing, even if there aren’t any underwear. Still, shorts are better than only the thin silk top. I dress and walk back into the bedroom. The guys are already in bed, with a space for me between Angelo and Victor. Just as he’d said, Saint is on the other side of Victor, keeping his distance from Angelo.

I don’t know what’s going on with the two of them, but one day, I will figure it out.

I crawl into bed, and I opt to face Victor. I put my leg around Victor’s and I reach across him to touch Saint’s arm. Saint offers me a small smile and touches my hand while Angelo snuggles up to me from behind, holding me. It’s… surprisingly warm. And I feel safe and comfortable in their arms.

32

Lucia

There’s something to be said about a night of uninterrupted sleep, cocooned in strong arms. I don’t know that I could have relaxed without Angelo, Victor, and Saint beside me. I would have felt the oppressive loneliness. I would have feared waking up to yet another strange man attempting to murder me.

But despite everything that’s happened between the four of us, I still wake up feelingsafe. I don’t even know how. It doesn’t make sense. But somehow my mind has decided that the three of them equal safety, and I’m so infatuated by the feeling that I don’t want to try to change that.

I bask in the comfort of Angelo’s strong arms, reluctant to open my eyes just yet. I don’t want to face the world. But one of them starts carding his hands through my hair, and I reflexively shiver.

“Good morning, Lucia,” Victor says softly. “Sleep well?”

I crack open an eye to see him staring at me. Angelo’s arms tighten around me, and… Saint is peering at me over Victor’s shoulder. I wonder how long the three of them have been watching me sleep.

Rather than dwell on that thought, I gently remove Angelo’s hands from me and sit up, moving to rest against the headboard. “Good morning. And yes, I did.”

Angelo sits up beside me, still pressing close against my side—like a faithful watchdog, like he wants to let me know he’s still there. I sigh and lean back against him, too tired to fight for my independence when I’ve only just woken.

The harsh reality of the night before tries to set in, teasing me with insidious thoughts I don’t want to face.

I almostdiedlast night. Twice. I shot a man in the head and watched him die.

I almost shot Victor, and I’m still not sure I made the right decision by letting him take the gun from my hands.

It all feels like so much, and I take in a deep, shuddering breath. I don’t want to think about that, any of that.

So I turn, pressing my lips against Angelo’s in a good morning kiss. I mean for it to be brief, a distraction, but his hand goes to the back of my neck and pulls me closer as the kiss turns deeper, more demanding. The mattress shifts—Victor and Saint moving—but I ignore it.

Angelo’s other hand starts to slide underneath my shirt, but before it gets far, I feel myself get pulled away from him.

“I want a kiss too,” Saint demands, nuzzling my collar.

Well, why not? I turn around and give him a good morning kiss, squeaking when Saint grips my ass and squeezes. Saint uses the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pushing his tongue past my lips and running it over my palate. I part my lips more, allowing him entry, and he takes full advantage of everything I’m offering. I run my hands through his hair, pressing in close in surrender.

When we finally break the kiss, I’m feeling a bit dazed. But I turn to Victor and ask, “Do you want a kiss too?”

He inclines his head a bit, then pats his lap. Mentally I roll my eyes, but I move over to him. He stops me before I can kiss him, holding onto my jaw and simply staring into my eyes until I’m squirming with discomfort.

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