My heart goes out to him.
"Let me help.” I follow him into the bathroom.
He looks broken in a way I've never seen before.
I reach up, finishing the work of unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it gently from his shoulders.
There's blood there too, thankfully not his.
"It doesn't wash off," he says, so quietly I almost miss it. "No matter how hot the water gets."
I press my lips to his shoulder, tasting salt and metal. "Let me stay with you while you try."
His eyes close briefly, vulnerability flickering across his face before he nods once.
I help him undress, then myself, and step with him under the scalding spray. We don't speak as I wash his back, his hair, his hands.
The water cascades over us, steam rising between our bodies. Luca's muscles remain taut beneath my fingertips, his breathing uneven. I press my forehead against his spine, letting my hands slide around his waist.
"I know what it's like," I murmur against his skin. "Thinking you understand someone completely, only to discover they're someone else entirely."
He turns in my arms, his eyes searching mine.
"Pyotr was my brother." My voice catches. "I knew he could be wily, but I trusted him with everything. My life, my son's life. I never imagined he could betray me. At least Victorio wasn't family."
"Wasn't he? We grew up together. He knew all my secrets. When everyone else turned their backs on me, he was there for me. I believed he was loyal."
The pain in his voice mirrors what I've been carrying since Enzo's kidnapping. I reach up, brushing wet hair from his forehead.
"It's not your fault," I tell him. "Some people are just good at wearing masks." Didn’t he tell me something similar about Pyotr?
"I should have seen through it. That's what I do. I read people, find their weaknesses." His jaw tightens. "But I missed what was right in front of me."
"We all did." I cup his face between my palms. "Alessandro and Adriano didn’t see it, did they? And they’ve been around him more the last seven years than you have.”
His eyes soften as they hold mine. Without words, he leans down, pressing his lips against mine.
It's not passionate or demanding like his usual kisses. It's tender, almost reverent.
Almost as if he’s grateful for my understanding.
Luca's hands circle my waist as water continues to cascade around us. The heat has fogged the glass, creating our own private world.
"The hardest part," he says, voice low against my ear, "is knowing you and Enzo might be in danger."
I pull back slightly, searching his face. "From whom?"
"Everyone." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "Tensions are exploding on both sides. The Russians want my head for killing Pyotr, and the Dantes are questioning everyone's loyalty."
The implication rattles me.
I'm still Russian, the sister of the man who betrayed them.
"You think your family suspects me?" Suddenly, I feel cold even with the hot water spraying over me and Luca’s arms around me.
"I trust you." His eyes hold mine. "But Alessandro isn't convinced."
"So I'm guilty by association."
