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10

ALEXANDER

I stopped drinking about four hours ago, but the DeLuca siblings were still going strong. To put it mildly, they were absolutely trashed. Matteo, I was used to. The guy’s always a friendly idiot when he’s had a drink—or three—but Lucia? Drunk Lucia? That was a whole new ball game.

She was a slippery little troublemaker when she was drunk, darting in and out of sight faster than I could keep up. I’d just turned my attention to Matteo for a second, trying to stop him from ordering yet another drink. Instead, I slipped some water into his glass, convincing him it was a vodka soda, a little tactic I had perfected over the years. That’s when I was going to do the same with Lucia.

But when I turned around, she was gone. My heart dropped, a dull thud in my chest. The music felt too loud all of a sudden, the bass like it was pulsing straight through my ribs. Every neon light seemed too bright. My senses were overloaded, and in the chaos of the club, all I could think was: Where the hell is she? And why the hell was she so damn small?

I shook it off, trying to focus, but Matteo’s voice broke through the fog, still going on and on about the time he’d jumped off a double-decker yacht in his birthday suit. He was laughing, recounting every embarrassing detail, and of course, he failed to remember that I was the one who’d dared him to do it in the first place.

“Mate, I need you to stay here, okay? I have to find your sister.” I grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to focus.

Drunk Matteo went completely still. Too still.

“Oh fuck, did we lose her? She doesn’t do well alone, or drunk, or drunk and alone. This is bad. This is really bad,” he started rambling, the panic creeping into his words.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay, mate. Stay here. I’ll find her, and then we’ll head to the hotel. Sound good?”

Matteo blinked at me like I had just spoken a different language. Then, in true Matteo fashion, he grinned like a fool and changed the subject. “There were these cheesy chips in the minibar area. I’m gonna fuck those up when we get there.”

I rolled my eyes, running my hand through my hair. Drunk, idiotic, rambling best friend. I pointed at him. “Stay. I’m going to find your sister.”

Then I was off, weaving through the crowd.

Lucia was small, and this club? It was huge. The dark lights and thick haze of smoke didn’t help either. Everything felt like it was closing in. The floor seemed sticky, the music louder than ever. Had it always been this dark in here? Where the hell was she?

My heart was hammering now, and I tried to stay calm. But the whole night felt like it was slipping through my fingers, and I wasn’t going to let anything—anyone—slip away tonight.

I pushed through the crowd, my eyes scanning every corner, every face. My heart was racing, like I was on a clock, and time was slipping faster than I could catch it. The club was a mess of flashing lights, pounding beats, and the chaos of bodies moving, grinding, lost in the night. But there was no sign of her. No small blonde head bobbing in the sea of people. I could feel the tension building in my chest, that gnawing sense of worry I tried to ignore, but it was clawing at me now.

I turned, my gaze darting between faces, hoping I’d catch a glimpse of Lucia’s sharp, searching eyes, her laughter in the mix. Nothing.

And then, just as I was about to give in to the panic creeping up on me, I saw her.

She was standing near the back of the club, by the exit, looking like she was trying to slip past unnoticed. She had her arms crossed tightly, like she was hiding from something—or someone. She hadn’t seen me yet, but I could see the way her eyes flicked nervously around, like she was too aware of everything around her but not enough to be fully present.

Lucia .

I moved toward her in a flash, dodging people, my legs pushing faster as my pulse thudded in my ears. When I finally reached her, I grabbed her arm gently but firmly.

“Hey,” I said, my voice a little rougher than I meant it to be. “What the hell are you doing?”

Her eyes met mine, and there was this instant recognition, followed by a flash of irritation. She gave me a lazy half smile, but it was more mischievous than anything else. “Trying to find you,” she said, her words slurring just a little. “Too many tall people.”

I sighed, relief mixed with annoyance. “Well, I’m right here now.”

She gave me a wobbly shrug, but her face softened, the edge of her defiance flickering out, replaced with that vulnerable look I hated seeing on her. “I wanted to dance, but then it was like the people swallowed me up and I couldn’t find you or Matteo.” Her voice was quieter now, almost lost in the thrum of the club.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “It’s all right, I’ve got you.” I reached out, taking her elbow and gently steering her away from the crowd.

Lucia let me guide her, her steps unsteady, toes catching on the sticky floor. “I don’t want to go back yet,” she mumbled, her voice soft but laced with determination. Her eyes darted over my shoulder, like she was already plotting an escape route. Then she looked up at me, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“I want to dance,” she whined, her tone petulant, fists balled at her sides like she was on the verge of stomping her foot. It was so ridiculously endearing that I almost laughed. She looked exactly like Gia when she wasn’t getting her way—the same scrunched-up expression, the same wide, pleading eyes. Damn it, she even had the same pout.

I sighed, knowing I didn’t stand a chance against that look. If I said no, she’d wriggle out of my grasp and head straight for the dance floor anyway, and I was not about to lose her again.

“Fine,” I said, caving with a shake of my head. “One dance.”

Her face lit up, her eyes catching the neon lights and sparkling like she’d just won the lottery. A soft smile tugged at her lips, entrancing me. She knew she won.

The music shifted to a slower, sultry beat as we moved onto the edge of the dance floor. I wasn’t even sure why I’d agreed to this. Lucia was drunk, light on her feet, swaying like the music was stitched into her bones. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the rhythm before I had time to think, her touch soft but insistent.

“See?” she said, laughing as she spun herself around, her hair catching the lights like gold. “Not so bad, is it?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. All I could do was watch as she let go of herself, her movements fluid, carefree. This was a side of her I’d never seen before—uninhibited and glowing with joy, like nothing else in the world mattered except this moment. Her arms lifted above her head, her hips swaying as she stepped closer to me.

Too close.

“Come on, Alexander,” she teased, her voice light, her eyes locking on mine. “You can’t just stand there like a statue.”

She reached for my other hand, and without thinking, I let her take it. She guided me into the rhythm, our movements clumsy at first, but then something shifted. I found myself falling into step with her, the music weaving us together. The small touches of her fingers grazing mine, her shoulder brushing against my chest, sent sparks racing up my spine. I wanted more, I wanted my hands to outline the curve of her waist, to pull her closer.

Her laugh bubbled up again as she stepped even closer, as if hearing my thoughts, the faint scent of her perfume wrapping around me. It was intoxicating, and I hated how much I noticed. Hated how the heat of her skin so near mine made my pulse race. Hated how beautiful she looked, her cheeks flushed and eyes shimmering under the club’s flashing lights.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with her.

“Admit it,” she said, tilting her head up at me, her voice teasing but soft. “You’re having fun.”

I swallowed hard, forcing my expression into something neutral. “It’s the music,” I replied, my voice gruff, trying to put some distance between us even as she closed the gap. “Hard not to move.”

“Sure,” she said, grinning, her fingers sliding down my arm like a featherlight trail of fire. “It’s just the music.”

Her touch lingered, and I felt my control slipping, the invisible line I’d drawn in my mind starting to blur. I couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t ignore the way her lips curved, or the way her hair framed her face like a damn halo.

She leaned in, her voice barely audible over the music. “I think you like this.”

I huffed out a breath, a dry laugh escaping before I could stop it. “You’re drunk, Lucia.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” she countered, her hand now resting lightly on my chest.

I should’ve stepped back, should’ve pulled away from the heat of her touch, the way her fingers splayed against the fabric of my shirt. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Instead, I found myself leaning in, just enough to catch the faintest glint in her eyes.

“Lucia,” I said, my voice low, a warning that didn’t sound nearly as firm as it should have.

“What?” she asked, grinning like she’d won something. Her voice was playful, but there was something else in her gaze. Something softer, deeper, that made my chest tighten.

I shook my head, a small laugh slipping out despite myself. “You’re impossible.”

But the song ended, reality crashing back into me.

“All right, one song is done,” I said, my voice firmer than before. “Let’s go get your brother and head back to the hotel.”

Lucia stopped mid-spin, turning to face me, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. She pouted again, and I braced myself. The pout was dangerous—almost as bad as her smile.

“One song?” she said, her voice soft, teasing. “You’re no fun, Alexander.”

I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. “You’re drunk, Lucia.”

She tilted her head, her grin widening. “Exactly. Which means I’m having fun for once. You could try it, too, you know.”

“I’m having plenty of fun,” I muttered, though it was a lie. Fun wasn’t the word for this. This was…something else. Something that felt too close, too dangerous.

She stepped closer, her hands finding my arm again. “One more dance,” she pleaded, her eyes wide and sparkling under the neon lights. “Just one.”

And there it was again—the way she looked at me. It made something twist in my chest, something I didn’t want to name.

She’s off limits.

She’s off limits.

She’s off limits.

If I repeated it enough in my own head, maybe my body would actually start to listen.

“I can’t keep saying yes to you, Lucia,” I said quietly, trying to sound stern, though I wasn’t sure if I was convincing either of us.

“Why not?” she asked, her voice softer now. Her fingers curled slightly, a small, almost hesitant touch. “I think you like saying yes to me.”

I swallowed hard, her words hitting too close to truths I didn’t want to face. “Because I know where it leads.”

She blinked, her smile faltering for just a second before it came back, this time with a different edge. “And where does it lead, Alexander?”

“Nowhere good,” I said, my voice barely audible over the music, but she heard me. I saw it in the way her eyes flickered, her expression shifting into something more unreadable.

“Maybe you don’t give yourself enough credit,” she murmured, stepping back just a little. “Or maybe you’re scared.”

I stiffened, her words digging deeper than they should have. She didn’t know—couldn’t know—how close she was to the truth. That I had been pushing feelings down for too long, for years. But she was off limits, and I was losing any semblance of control around her. She was too close, her body lining up with mine, in a dark and loud room. I could just lean down and kiss her; no one would even see. But she was drunk, and damn it all to hell, if I was going to kiss her, she was going to be fully present and know full well it wasn’t just some drunken decision.

“Let’s go,” I said, my voice sharper than intended as I broke the spell, stepping back from her touch.

For a moment, she didn’t move, her gaze locked on mine. Then, with a small, resigned shrug, she nodded. “Fine.”

I ignored the flicker of disappointment in her tone as I reached for her hand, leading her toward the exit. The warmth of her fingers in mine sent an electric hum through my body, one I tried desperately to ignore.

I needed to get her back to the hotel. Away from this place. Away from me. Because if I let myself stay in this moment any longer, I wasn’t sure I’d want it to end.

The ride back to the hotel was pure chaos. Matteo was sprawled out in the private car, alternating between belting out snippets of songs he didn’t know the words to and recounting wildly exaggerated stories from their childhood, switching from Italian to English a hundred times. “Did I ever tell you about the time Lucia tried to sell lemonade but drank it all before anyone could buy any?” he slurred, grinning like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Lucia, curled up on my other side, just groaned. “That was when I was seven , Matteo,” she muttered, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“Yeah, but it was entrepreneurial, or an attempt anyway,” he shot back, pointing a triumphant finger at her.

I couldn’t help but smirk, shaking my head at the two of them. Matteo might’ve been loud and obnoxious, but Lucia had gone quiet, leaning heavily against me, her head lolling onto my shoulder.

When her breathing slowed, I realized she’d fallen asleep.

By the time we pulled up to the hotel, Matteo was still talking to no one in particular. “I’m gonna raid that minibar. Those chips are calling my name. You think they restock ’em every day? They should. I am an athlete, I need the fuel. Fuel in the form of cheesy chips.” He stumbled out of the car with my help.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, chip boy,” I muttered, steadying him as we made our way inside. “Room’s this way.”

Lucia didn’t stir as I carried her out of the car and through the lobby. Matteo, thankfully, managed to stagger to his own door without too much help, though not before declaring, “I think all chips should be cheesy, don’t you?”

I nodded, humoring him, before steering him inside. “Go to bed, mate.”

“Chips first,” he mumbled before disappearing into his room.

Once Matteo was settled, I turned my attention back to Lucia. Her room was just down the hall, where Anna had been watching over Gia. When I unlocked the door and stepped inside, Anna greeted me with a tired smile. She glanced at a sleeping Lucia in my arms and smirked.

“She was an angel,” Anna whispered, motioning toward the bedroom where Gia was sound asleep. “I’ll head out now. Have a good night.”

“Thanks, Anna,” I murmured, grateful for her help. “Are you okay? The other day…” I trailed off. Her shoulders dropped a little, a tired smile that didn’t reach her eyes,

“It’ll be fine, don’t you go worrying about me now,” she whispered, waving a hand.

“Want me to call Dante?” I asked softly. I knew her family history was complicated, but Anna was private.

Her eyes went wide. “God, no.”

As soon as she was gone, I carried Lucia over to the couch, trying not to wake her. When I set her down, her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked up at me, confused.

“Gia’s asleep,” I said softly.

Lucia sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. “I’ll sleep here, on the couch,” she mumbled, her voice groggy. “I don’t want to wake her.”

“All right,” I said, already moving toward the closet to grab extra pillows and blankets.

When I returned, Lucia was attempting to undo her hair, her fingers fumbling with the pins.

“Here,” I offered, sitting beside her. She hesitated for a moment, then let her hands fall to her lap.

I worked quietly, sliding the pins free one by one until her hair fell loose around her shoulders. It was softer than I’d imagined, and the scent of her shampoo lingered faintly, like berries. I closed my own eyes.

Get it together, Wright.

When I opened them, she had turned to look at me, her dark eye makeup making her eyes seem brighter. I realized she might not want to sleep in that. So I walked to the bathroom, quietly rifling through a few bags on the countertop. I found a pack labeled makeup remover and brought it over to her. Her head was on the pillow, looking like she was fighting to stay awake.

“Close your eyes,” I whispered, and I gently wiped away the remnants of her makeup, the cool cloth smoothing over her cheeks and forehead.

“Why are you being so nice?” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

I paused, then shrugged. “You take care of everyone, let me take care of you.”

She let out a soft hum, her eyes still closed, and leaned back slightly as I worked.

When I was done, I helped her settle onto the couch, tucking the blankets around her and adding an extra pillow behind her head. “Comfortable?” I asked, standing back to make sure she had everything she needed.

She opened her eyes, meeting mine with a tired but grateful smile. “Yeah.”

I nodded, stepping back toward the door, but her voice stopped me.

“Alexander,” she said, her words slurring slightly with sleep.

I turned. “Yeah?”

Her eyes fluttered shut. Within seconds, her breathing evened out, and she was asleep.

I stayed there for a moment, watching her, my chest inexplicably tight. She looked peaceful, wrapped up in the cocoon of blankets, her hair fanning out across the pillow. Too peaceful for the chaos of the night we’d just had.

With a sigh, I turned off the lights, leaving just the soft glow of the lamp by the couch, and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind me.