CHAPTER 82: A MESS
CHAPTER 82: A MESS
LUCA
I’ve made a mess before, but never one this colorful, this naked, or this impossible to explain.
The room is silent except for the slow drip of water from mine and Kristian’s bodies. Paint is smeared across the wall like a crime scene. The cologne bottle lies in glassy ruin on the floor. The armchair is so very obviously defiled.
Giovanni looks like he’s seen the gates of hell.
His jaw is slack. His eyes are wide, scanning me like I’ve grown horns. He’s still by the door, stiff as a statue. The way his mouth twitches tells me he’s not sure if he wants to scream or combust.
I haven’t seen him this stunned before.
Like I said, I’ve made plenty of messes in my life, and Giovanni has been there for almost every single one of them. He has seen me drink, smoke, sneak out of the house several times, and hang with some very questionable people.
And the first time he saw me with a man, I thought he would lose his shit. I was in the backseat of my father’s old Maserati, shirtless, lips locked with Arturo di Stefano at age seventeen. Arturo had one hand wrapped around my cock and he was on his knees before me.
Gio had walked into the garage with a tray of espresso cups, bless him, and had seen details that I was sure would scar him for the rest of his life.
He didn’t even drop the tray.
Just raised one brow and looked at both of us for a few seconds. Then he said, “I’ll give you five minutes. Then I’m telling your mother.”
He never did tell her, just like he hasn’t told her any of the hundred things messy I’ve done.
He didn’t look shocked that day. Just vaguely amused.
This isn’t the same.
This time, he looks like something’s broken in his head.
I don’t know how long we all stand in silence for, but the first person to move or make a sound is Kristian. He clears his throat and mumbles something about getting dressed.
I watch as he grabs his clothes from the back of a chair and disappears into the walk-in closet, the door shutting with a quiet click.
The silence he leaves behind feels like a guillotine waiting to fall.
It lasts all of two seconds.
“You cannot be serious,” Giovanni snaps like the spell over him has suddenly broken. His voice is low and sharp. “You’re not this reckless, Luca.”
I drag a hand through my hair and try to keep my cool. “It wasn’t planned.”
“Oh, clearly.” His voice rises, as he steps further into the room. His shoes crunch over broken glass.
“It’s not serious,” is all I can think to say to keep the bulging vein in Gio's forehead from bursting.
“You’ve done a shit ton of reckless things, Luca,” he says. “But having sex and taking showers with a foreign royal is the fucking height!”
“We did not have sex,” I reply.
“So it’s not serious because you haven’t had sex with him yet, or it’s not serious because you just want to have sex with him and nothing more?"
I open my mouth to answer, but I can’t think of a single thing to say.
Gio's shoulders rise with a slow breath. His tie is slightly crooked, and his dark eyes are rimmed with exhaustion. But beneath that, he’s furious. The kind of fury that's fueled by fear.
“You’re not just risking your heart,” he says, his voice dropping low. “You’re risking everything. Everything. Do you understand what would happen if this is leaked? If the press gets wind of it? What would have happened if Henrik had walked in instead of me?”
I grit my teeth. “No one’s leaking anything.”
“You sure about that?” His hand gestures wildly toward the mess. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve lost control.”
“I haven’t lost control—”
“Yes, you have!”
The force in his voice startles both of us. And when he does, there’s always a look on his face that still gives me room to joke.
But not right now—I wouldn’t dare.
I glance at the closet door, then step closer to him. I don’t know if Kristian can hear us. “Look,” I say, quieter now, “I know it looks bad. But Kristian isn’t like the others. He... He makes me feel—”
“Don’t.” Giovanni shakes his head. “Don’t romanticize it, Luca.”
“I’m not. I’m telling you the truth.”
“Luca.” He steps forward. His voice softens, but the steel remains. “Despite what the world thinks and what your lifestyle suggests, you’re not a reckless person. You’ve spent your whole life trying to build control and manage perception. One misstep and they’ll chew you up. Your mother will never let this fly.”
I hate how right he is.
Still, I say, “Then we’ll be careful.”
“Luca, with the look I saw on his face—on your face—there’s not enough carefulness in the world that can protect you.”
I glance away. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Giovanni’s expression tightens. “The prince is falling for you. And you’re already gone.”
He runs a hand down his face and makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat.
My voice drops to a whisper. Even if I know he won’t, I feel the need to say, “Please don’t…you can’t mention this to anyone.”
He doesn’t look at me. “You think this is about snitching?”
“I’m asking you. Not as my aide. As my friend. Please.”
When he looks at me, his eyes are glossy but hard. “Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll stay quiet.”
Relief crashes over me. “Thank you—”
“Not for you.” He points a finger at me. “For peace. To avoid a scandal. To keep this project afloat. But don’t mistake my silence for approval.”
I nod, guilt settling in my stomach like a stone.
He stands and smooths his shirt. “End it, Luca. Whatever this is, it has to stop.”
I don’t answer.
“Say it,” he demands.
But I can’t. Not yet. Not when I still feel Kristian’s mouth on mine. Not when my heart’s still racing from the way he touched me like I was something worth holding on to.
Giovanni stares at me for a long moment.
Then he nods, just once. “You’re going to ruin everything, and I don’t know if I can stand by and watch that happen.”
He fixes his tie and walks to the door. “I suggest you return to your room immediately, Signor Moretti,” Giovanni says formally. “Have a good night.”
The door shuts behind him with a click that feels too final.
I sit on the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands.
I’ve made a mess before—but this one may just be what destroys me.