Chapter 61 Chapter 61 - The Ride Home I
Cedric's POV
Gianni left the bedroom with a curt "I'll be back in two hours. Stay here," and the door clicked shut behind him. He heard the door lock from outside and rolled his eyes.
Clearly, he'd been demoted back to being an ordinary bedroom prisoner, no more strolling privileges.
He waited in bed for a while, counting out the minutes in his head until he could see family again, before he quickly remembered something that made him scramble out of bed.
The journal! The one he'd thrown under the bed in his panic when Gianni had walked in that night, it was still under there!
He'd been so focused on everything else, the note, Dante, the standoff, that he'd completely forgotten about it.
But Gianni hadn't. Gianni never forgot anything, and sooner or later, he would find out something was amiss, and who would suffer for it? Cedric.
Hell no. Not after barely surviving last night.
He dropped to his knees and shoved his good hand under the bed, groping blindly for it. After a couple of minutes of trying, his fingers finally closed around the leather binding, and he yanked it out, dust bunnies coming with it.
The drawing was still there on the last page. He was in high school, holding up those stupid dog treats, smiling like an idiot who thought the world was full of possibilities.
He needed to put it back. Now. Before Gianni noticed it was gone.
He rushed to the bookshelf, his heart hammering, trying to remember exactly where he'd found it. Was it at the back corner? No, he definitely kept it on the left side. Or was it the right side? Behind the other journals, definitely, but...
All of a sudden, the door handle started to turn.
"Fuck," he breathed.
There was no time. He quickly shoved the journal into the nearest gap between books, jumped toward the bed, so he could try to get into a natural position, not at all like he'd just been frantically hiding evidence.
The door swung open.
He was mid-jump when Gianni walked in, literally caught in the air for a split second before he landed on the mattress like an idiot.
Their eyes met.
His eyebrow rose slowly, suspicion written clearly across his face. But he didn't say anything.
Just stood there in the doorway, he traced his eyes down his body until he too noticed fresh blood on his knuckles, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He stared at the blood. He stared at his awkward position, half-sprawled across the bed.
He guessed both of them decided not to comment on what they'd observed, because neither of them said anything about their suspicions.
"Get dressed," Gianni said finally, moving into the room. "We're leaving in ten minutes."
"I can dress myself," he said, already moving toward the closet.
"With one hand and a cast?" Gianni's voice carried that amused tone that always made him want to punch him. "This I have to see."
He wasn't wrong. He struggled with the button-up shirt for a solid minute before Gianni made an impatient sound and crossed to him, batting his hand away.
"I said I can..."
"And I said we're leaving in ten minutes." His long, elegant fingers worked the buttons very quickly. "Stop being difficult and let me help you."
There was something weirdly intimate about it. Him dressing him like he was his boyfriend or something, his knuckles were still bloodied though, he noticed up close brushing against his chest with each button.
He tried not to think about whose blood it was. Tried not to imagine that it was probably Dante, in some basement room, his handsome face getting beaten and broken because of a stupid note.
"Pants," Gianni said, already reaching for a pair of dark jeans from the closet.
"Nope. Fuck that. I can handle it myself."
"Humour me."
He let him help, mostly because arguing was taking time neither of them had; the sooner they left, the sooner he could finally get a day out of this place and get some kind of normalcy in the town.
"Come," Gianni said, leading him by the hand, already heading for the door. "The car is waiting."
The Mercedes was as ridiculously nice as he'd expected, all clean black leather and tinted windows and that new car smell. Gianni slid in beside him instead of sitting across, close enough that their thighs touched.
The driver pulled away from the estate smoothly, and he watched the gates slide open through the window, his first real glimpse of the outside world in days.
"Your mother still lives in the same apartment?" Gianni asked, his voice casual.
"Yeah. Same shithole in Queens." He kept his eyes on the window, watching the scenery change as they left his estate behind. He wondered what she would think of him, a Mafia leader at her doorstep.
Damn. He was in some serious trouble.
"Well, she can't exactly afford to move on a nurse's salary. Or lack thereof, since she got fired."
"Because of debt collectors harassing her at work," Gianni said. "Yes, I'm aware."
Something in his tone made him look at him sharply. "I'm sure you know all about that."
"I know everything about your family, Cedric. Where they live. Where they work. Your sister's school schedule. Your stepfather's drinking habits and his preferred bar." He said it so matter-of-factly, "I've known for quite some time."
A chill ran down his spine. "How long?"
"Let me ask the questions." His hand settled on his thigh possessively. "Tell me about Marcus Chen."