Page 29 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

Luca

I watched her sleep again last night. It’s pathetic—the way I slip into our bed like a thief in the dark, holding her like she’s mine, when I’m too much of a coward to face her in the light.

Every morning, I leave before she wakes. Every night, I crawl in after she’s already asleep. Because I don’t know how to be the man she deserves.

Not when I’ve already shattered the version of me, she once believed in. Or maybe this has always been who I am, and I just hadn’t grown into it yet when we first met.

I don’t know how to be gentle. The mob is all I’ve ever known, and it’s carved me into something jagged and hard. I sink deeper into the leather couch, the glass of whiskey balanced on my thigh, my fingers curled around it like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded.

I’d called Dominic and Axel over to help me clear my head while we planned our next move. I swirl the glass absently, the ice clinking a sharp, lonely sound before I down it in one long pull.

“Chokehold” by sleep token plays softly from beyond the club’s dance floor below.

A stripper moves on the center table fluid and sinuous like she’s made of nothing but curves and temptation.

Every sway is a slow, deliberate promise. Her breasts strain against a top that’s at least two sizes too small, and the hem of her micro-pleated skirt barely covers the curve of her ass.

She spins around the pole in a pair of eight-inch stilettos, the kind that gleam beneath the low club lights, black patent leather with red soles, ankle straps hugging her legs like a second skin.

Her skirt falls, revealing a thong as she flips upside down, legs splitting in the air with graceful precision. She’s skilled. Easy on the eyes. But all I see is Ariel. Ariel, dancing on that pole.

Ariel, with those haunted eyes and the fire she tries so hard to hide. One of the waitresses silently refills my glass. I glance at Dominic; he doesn’t look like he’s enjoying himself either. Strange, coming from the most shameless playboy among us.

One of his favorite girls is pressed to his side, running her hands over his chest, her tits practically spilling out of her top as she purrs into his ear. He grabs her wrist and stops her, jaw tight.

On a normal night, he’d have her bent over the nearest surface, making her scream his name loud enough to shake the walls. Not tonight. Something’s off with him, and I know it.

Axel sits quietly in the corner, watching everything with a blank expression. Cold. Calculating. Like he’s a million miles away, stuck in his own head.

That man never shows emotion unless someone’s bleeding. Then, Dominic’s voice cuts through the air rough, firm, and final.

“Everyone out.”

The strippers and waitresses freeze for half a second, then scramble out, heels clattering across the floor like gunshots. One of Dominic’s regulars lingers, pouting like she can’t believe he’s serious.

“You too,” he growls, not even looking at her.

The second she sees the dark fire in his eyes, she bolts. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“You good?”

He just shrugs.

“Fun’s over.”

There’s a short pause before he shifts back to business.

“The Romano shipments are arriving earlier than we anticipated.”

“When?” I demanded, lifting the whiskey glass to my lips.

“Tomorrow night.”

I nod slowly, taking a measured sip instead of downing it like water. I let the burn settle—I need a clear head for the call.

“Then we move before it gets heavily guarded, before they transport it to the warehouse.” “Are the boys ready?” I ask, glancing toward Axel. He gives me a sharp smirk.

“Ready and eager to retaliate.”

I shift my gaze to Dominic. “How’s your shoulder holding up?”

“Good enough to fight,” he answered, flexing it slightly.

“Good. We head back to the city tonight. I want eyes on that dock the moment the sun goes down.”

“You should sit this one out,” Dominic says, watching me closely.

“The boys and I will handle it.”

“No. I want to be there.”

He gives me a look that says he knows there’s more on my mind than just business. But he doesn’t push. Instead, he shifts gears.

“Speaking of which salutes on your marriage.”

Both he and Axel raise their glasses before drinking it.

“And how’s my little nephew?”

“Better,” I replied curtly.

“You don’t sound like a man who just got his kid back and married the woman he’s been obsessed with for years. In fact, you sound like something crawled up your ass and died.”

I shoot him a warning glare, but he just chuckles. “How the fuck do you woo a woman?” I mutter, more to myself than to either of them.

“Beats me,” Dominic says, surprisingly serious for once.

“Flowers,” Axel growls from the corner.

Dominic and I both turn to look at Axel, waiting for him to say more. He doesn’t.

“What kind of flowers?” I press.

Axel shrugs, his face unreadable.

“Doesn’t matter. Women don’t care about the type. They care that you remembered.”

Dominic snorts.

“The fuck do you know about romance?”

Axel doesn’t even blink.

“Enough to know you haven’t fucked the one you’re keeping.”

“Fuck you,” Dominic growls, raising is middle finger at him.

“You’re not my type,” Axel replies flatly.

I nearly choke on my drink, coughing into my sleeve.

“He’s got a point,” I mutter. “I’ve never seen you with anyone.”

Axel shrugs.

“Just haven’t found the right one.”

The conversation drifts on late into the night. Laughter, drinks, and half-meant insults fill the air until I’m more than just a little tipsy. My head buzzes, and the room feels slightly off-kilter.

I reach into the inside pocket of my suit and pull out my phone, dialing my driver’s number. He’s with the same agency that supplies my bodyguards, discreet, professional, and reliable. Within minutes, he responds.

Ten minutes later, the black SUV pulls up to the curb. One of the security men steps out first, scanning the area before opening the door for me.

I can protect myself, sure but not tonight. Not when I feel this off balance. I slide into the back seat without a word, letting the leather swallow me whole as the driver pulls away from the curb and heads toward home.

During the ride, Axel’s words echo in my mind. Flowers. I pull out my phone and type, “Where can I buy flowers?” A list of flower shops pops up beneath the search bar. Since I don’t know which is best, I click the one with the five-star reviews—the best for my kitten.

The link opens to a sleek website, showcasing all kinds of arrangements. I stroll through at the options, unsure what to pick. So, I add all the flowers on sale to the cart and schedule them to be delivered first thing tomorrow morning, before she wakes up.