Luciano | Book I ✓

Chapter Thirty-Two

"Yeah, it's me."

"Where are you...are you..." Her eyes fluttered back closed as her lips fell apart. I laughed softly as she managed to roll on her back and fall back asleep. Her hands fell at her sides and that's when my eyes lowered to the large shirt I had somehow managed to snake over her head late last night when she started shivering. I stood back up, pulled the duvet back up to her neck, and began to get ready for my day.

I stood in front a full length mirror not even three minutes later, pulling a pair of black slacks up my thighs and buttoning them. I slid my arms into the long sleeves of the black dress shirt; I rolled them up my arm, grabbed a belt, ran a hand through my hair, slid a gold watch on my left wrist, and with one longing glance behind me, I exited the room.

My gaze locked on Dominic's closed bedroom door. He was the only one I wanted to speak to. I cringed as another very clear image of Camilla ran through my head; her skin was pale, her arms overly hairy, and now that I think about it, I don't know how I didn't throw up.

My attention floated over to Rico's door and I leaned to my right, listening closely for any sign of movement. I had to pay close attention to Federico, whether I liked it or not. Despite his professionalism, if any of my men uttered a disrespectful saying in his direction, it would be highly likely that I would wake up the next morning with 100 of my men dead on the floor; the results would be similar to a fox or a raccoon that had entered a chicken coop.

But like Dom had read my mind, his door swung open seconds later, distracting me from my thoughts. The underboss stood at the doorway looking oddly...tired. A towel hung low on his hips and the fact that his naturally curly hair was plastered on his head, falling forward on his forehead, immediately told me he had taken a shower. I made my move and stepped towards him, clutching the front of his towel and dragging him back into his room. He squealed as I kicked the door closed behind me and let him go; he stumbled into the room, nearly falling over his bed.

When he whirled around, his eyes were wide, his lips parted, and his hand was clasping at his towel. I simply folded my hands over my chest and waited for his reaction.

"Liam, I don't know what you've heard," He stands back up, slapping his palm to his bare chest. "But I'm the Dom and whoever sleeps with me is the Sub." My eyebrows furrowed and raised as he continued, "Upon saying that, I don't like being thrown around."

It took me a minute to reply; and in that silent moment, I stared at Dominic, hard. He was in pretty good shape and his upper body reminded me much of my own. But the only difference I did notice, was the tattoo that was etched in a beautiful cursive handwriting on his left pectoral muscle. It looked like a lengthy saying, but I shook my head, mentally telling myself that that wasn't the reason I was here right now.

"We need to talk."

Dominic sighs, as if he already knows why I'm here. He steps away from the bed and nods as he walks towards me, heading to his closet. "Sure, but—" He stops as our shoulders brush together, shooting me a playful smile. "What's up with the all black? All you'd need is a—" He holds up a hand near his face, curling his index finger to his palm. I keep my face neutral as he scrunches up his nose and harshly whispers, "—scythe and you're the perfect resemblance of the Grim Reaper."

"Dom," I push him away, annoyance piercing my words as he chuckles. He swiftly disappears in the walk-in closet, momentarily leaving me alone in his room.

My eyes linger on his closet, before I tear them away, eyeing the rest the room. My attention locks in on a few photographs that rest beside his bed and like a magnet, I'm drawn to them out of curiosity. I pick them up gingerly, my thumb running along the glass that protects the original photo. My eyebrows crease together as I stare at a younger looking Dominic, his late wife, and a small baby. I let out a soft laugh at Dom, especially considering he looked like the typical fuckboy with really nice, curly, thick hair. His wife, Rose, looked more mature; with earrings and a tight, black dress. Her hair was long and pulled up in a ponytail. I could definitely see what attracted Dom and if she had the personality Dominic had told me about, then she was definitely a keeper.