Chapter 77

Chapter 77
Landon

I remain quiet, letting the emotions of the moment settle over me as Diego has a bonding moment with his men, his family. 

I hear the clinking of glass and the sound of liquid being poured. Diego raises a toast. To good fortune and the longevity of family. The men all raise their glasses before drinking the liquid in one go. 

They linger for a moment, murmuring quietly amongst themselves until Diego raises his hand, “That’s enough. Go. Rest. Prepare. Tomorrow begins the rotation.”

Chairs scrape back, boots thud against the floor. One by one, they rise and file out. Dante and Victor are the last to leave, their eyes meeting Diego’s in silent acknowledgment before the door closes behind them. The mansion falls quiet again, the silence pressing in like a blanket.

I exhale slowly, the tension draining from me. Diego’s arm tightens around me, pulling me closer, and I tilt my face up to look at him. The sunlight catches in his hair, layering him in gold, and something inside me twists.

Danny’s words echo in my mind—his gratitude, his loyalty, his tears. I’ve never seen men like them speak with such emotion. They’re soldiers, killers, not poets. But today, I saw something different. I saw belief. Not just in Diego as their leader, but in him as family. And by extension, in me.

It terrifies me.

Because family is what Antonio betrayed. Family is what Leo tried to corrupt. And family is what I hope to give back to Diego, even if right now he feels himself less deserving of it.

Diego presses a kiss to the top of my head, his voice low, meant only for me. “They’ll follow me anywhere. But you… You’re the reason I want to lead them somewhere worth going.”

The words sink into me, warm and heavy. I stir, murmuring softly, half-asleep, but I know he hears me.
I smile faintly, the weight of empire pressing down on both of us, but for once, it doesn’t feel unbearable.

For now, the house is quiet. For now, the family is loyal. For now, I am safe in his arms.
And for now, that is enough.

I feel Diego’s hand on my shoulder, gentle but firm, rousing me from the haze of half-sleep. His voice is low, steady. “What are your plans for the day?”

I blink, my mind sluggish, and murmur, “What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty,” he replies without hesitation.

I sigh, rubbing at my eyes. “I’m meeting Price at ten.”

Diego nods once, then helps me to my feet, his arm steadying me as if he refuses to let me falter. He guides me upstairs, every step measured, protective. In the bedroom, I reach for the bottle on the nightstand and take an Oxy, the pill sliding down with a swallow of water. I need to be relaxed when I meet Price. I need to look composed, not frayed.

Diego helps me out of my pajamas, his hands careful as he covers my back with the protective plastic cover, shielding the marks that still ache. His touch is clinical, protective, but beneath it, I feel the weight of his possessiveness.

He leads me into the bathroom, turns the shower on, and steam begins to billow around us, curling against the mirrors, fogging the glass. The air grows thick, humid, wrapping us in a cocoon.
Diego strips slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine. Each piece of clothing falls away, revealing the sculpted lines of his body, the strength carved into every muscle. He’s already hard, and I can only try not to stare, not to drool, though the sight makes my chest ache with longing. I’ve missed this—missed seeing him, the full beauty of Diego Fuentes laid bare. He was blessed by God, and God do I know it.

When he’s naked, he steps under the water, the spray cascading over his skin, glistening against the hard planes of his chest and shoulders. He reaches for me, pulling me in with him, and the rush of warm water envelops me, soaking into my skin, washing away the remnants of sleep and pain.

I close my eyes, tilting my head back, letting the heat sink into me. For a moment, it feels like the world outside doesn’t exist—no Price, no betrayal, no empire. Just Diego, the water, and the way his presence fills every space around me.

His hands slide over me, careful but possessive, tracing the bruises with a gentleness that contrasts with the raw hunger in his eyes. I can see it—the restraint, the battle he’s fighting with himself. He wants me, but he’s holding back, waiting until I heal, until I’m ready.

And God, I want him too.

I’ve missed this—the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters. My dick twitches with longing, my pulse quickens, and I have to bite back the urge to beg him to forget the doctor’s orders, to fuck me here and now.

Instead, I press closer, my hands sliding over his wet skin, memorizing the feel of him. “I missed this,” I whisper, my voice low, almost swallowed by the hiss of the water.

Diego’s jaw tightens, his eyes locked on mine. He leans down, his lips brushing my ear, his voice rough with restraint. “Tomorrow,” he promises. “Tomorrow, if you’re ready.”

The words send a shiver through me, equal parts frustration and anticipation. I nod, pressing my forehead against his chest, letting the water and his warmth hold me together.
For now, I’ll take the comfort of his arms, the promise of tomorrow, and the knowledge that even in his restraint, Diego is mine.

I look up at him, the water raining down around us, steam curling against the glass, and whisper, “I’ll be ready. I’m ready today. But just to say we listened to the doctor… We’ll wait until tomorrow.”

Diego nods, pressing a gentle kiss to my chin, his hand trailing down my side with deliberate care. His touch is firm, grounding, but filled with restraint. “I can’t fuck you yet,” he murmurs, his voice rough with hunger, “but I can give you this.”

His hand finds my dick, hard and straining, guiding our lengths together, and the sensation makes me groan, my head falling against his chest. The rush of warmth, the intimacy of his touch, floods me with memory. “God, I missed this,” I murmur, my voice trembling. “You always knew how to touch me… how to make me feel good.”

I hear the smirk in his voice, low and certain. “And I still do.”

The rhythm of his movements grows more insistent, his grip firmer, and the tension coils inside me, sharp and overwhelming. It’s been too long—too long without his touch, too long without the closeness that only he can give me. My body trembles, knees threatening to buckle, as the intensity builds.

Diego holds me steady, his strength anchoring me, his presence consuming me. The steam, the water, the heat—it all blurs together until there’s nothing but him, nothing but us.

When I finally cum, it’s not just physical—it’s emotional, a breaking point of want and relief. I sag against him, breathless, and feel the shudder of his own release, his body pressed tight against mine.

Right now, in this moment, it’s only Diego, me, and the promise of tomorrow.