Maybe if I repeated that to myself more, I’d start to believe it.
The expression on my face must’ve told Luca everything, for he quickly pulled his hand off mine, apologizing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.” He came off sincere, which, if I hadn’t spent a lot of time with him in the hospital, I might’ve found suspicious.
“It’s okay. I just…” If I wanted to turn the tables on my father, I had to use every weapon in my arsenal, and right now, all I had was me. I wasn’t anywhere near as confident as I should be, and the last thing I wanted to do was lie to anyone—but maybe I didn’t have to lie. “I don’t have the best past when it comes to men.”
I couldn’t tell Luca that his father was a piece of shit, but I could definitely get some sympathy. He’d been tripping over his own feet this entire time to get to me, so playing the hurt girl was all I could do.
Although, was it really playing when it was true?
“It’s why I wear the gloves. I don’t like touching strangers.” I reached up, tucking some hair behind an ear. “I don’t really like touching anyone.” I forced out a chuckle, and it sounded just as bitter as I hoped it would. “Kind of ridiculous, given the fact that I could kill a man with a pencil, but… that’s my reality. Pretty fucked up, isn’t it?”
Luca was speechless for a while, and it took him some time to gather his thoughts. “I… fuck, Giselle, I’m sorry. I had no idea. I didn’t—I just thought they were your thing. You know, like how most people on the Hand stick to black clothes.” He paused, and I wasn’t sure what he was about to say. I didn’t know what Luca’s sympathy would get me, but I wasn’t above using it to my advantage. But what he said next caught me off-guard: “A pencil, huh?”
“What?”
“You said you could kill a man with a pencil,” Luca explained, and I nodded once. “Have you ever?”
“I haven’t killed with a pencil yet.”
“Ah, well, I suppose there’s still time. I’m sure it would be something to see, you going at someone with a pencil.” Luca grinned, flashing me his perfectly white teeth. He really did have an attractive smile. “I’d pay money to see it.”
I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the pencil thing so much because I’d made him uncomfortable with what I said before it, or if he was doing it to try to guide the conversation away from the past for me. My first instinct was to say it was the former, but as I stared at him, as I listened to him go on and on about how sexy it would be to watch me kill someone with a pencil, I couldn’t help but think it was the latter.
“I’m sure I’m not the only one who’d pay to see it,” he went on. “I could name a few other heirs who would give their whole inheritance to see you get your white clothes stained with red.”
That got me to laugh. “Oh, come on.”
“No, no, I’m serious. You’re like the only thing the others can talk about. At the Black Hand party, then the one I threw—you’re the belle of the ball, or whatever the saying is. Everyone can’t get enough of you.” Luca’s voice quieted a bit. “They’re all up in arms over who shot you.”
“My father thinks it’s someone trying to get on the Hand.”
“My father thinks that, too. They’re working together to try to find out who did it.” The news that they were working together didn’t surprise me; I’d seen them together at the hospital, and my father did mention that I’d be seeing a lot more of Luca from now on because of it. “The others want to burn the city down to find out who did it.”
“Stop.”
“I’m serious. I might be leading the charge, but the others are more than happy to be my backup. Even the Black Hand heirs agree; this can’t be forgotten. Something has to be done.” Luca said, “They all wanted to visit you in the hospital, but I told them it might be too much.”
That sounded like something Zander would’ve done, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was for the same reason, too. “Don’t tell me you kept them away from me because you wanted to mark your territory?”
“What? No! No, I didn’t—I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to marking my territory,” Luca stumbled over his words in the most adorable way, “but only if you let me.” He reached up to the collar of his shirt. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”
I was just about to say that I already had one overly-jealous guy constantly watching my back, that I didn’t need another one, but before I had the chance, Zander shouted from the hall, “I can’t find any fucking vases in this house!”
Luca and I looked at each other, and whatever seriousness lingered from our conversation faded. He laughed at the frustration in Zander’s voice, and I chuckled at the whole ridiculousness of it.
“I guess we should help him find something for your flowers,” I said, struggling to stand.
“Hey, they’re yours now.” Luca stood. I didn’t look at him, didn’t ask for his help, but that didn’t stop him from leaning over me, setting hands on my hips, and practically picking me up off the couch.
My breath caught in the back of my throat, and for a moment, I stared at Luca’s chest. About a foot taller than me, the height difference between us was great. The hands currently on my hips didn’t fall away immediately; they lingered on me, and I was filled with a mixture of emotions that I couldn’t fight.
Hatred. Annoyance. Disgust. But beyond that, other things, other emotions that were nowhere near as negative. Maybe it was because I knew what my body could do, what a man’s body could do when not used as a weapon but instead something to bring pleasure to both parties. Maybe I felt so torn because I was attracted to Luca while also hating that he shared genetics with a vile, sick man, the same vile, sick man that had made me want to die.
“Sorry.” Luca’s hands fell off my hips, but he didn’t take a step back. He remained close when he asked, “You okay?”
I lifted my gaze to his, swallowed up by the warmth hidden in his chocolatey eyes. Being this close to him wasn’t bad, but I didn’t know if I could be any closer—not without thinking of his dear old daddy.
“I’m fine,” I whispered.