I've just witnessed my crush kiss his kidnapper.
Willingly.
Fuck, I'm late.
Let me rewind. This all started going downhill the moment Damian smashed that vial of blood—Luther's blood.
Ever since, my last rational thought has been clinging to life by a pheromone-soaked thread.
Still, on autopilot, I managed to wring the truth out of that simpering wreck—Damian.
"I got it from Emiliano. He said if I used it, you'd go mad for me. He was right! Please, Killian… I was terrified in that basement. The couch was dusty, and they didn't even have an air purifier! Do you have any idea what that did to my pores?"
Then he slammed the door in a fit of outrage.
By then, I was already drafting a message to the Prime Minister. I was going to save Luther.
I had a plan:
Kidnap Luther from his kidnappers.
Audition my company's actions on the black market.
Flee to Sicily.
Buy a seaside villa.
Make Luther mine.
Live happily ever after.
Flawless, right?
Wrong.
Because nowhere in that plan did I account for Luther grinding like a cat in heat on Emiliano.
"And it was just getting good."
The bastard had Luther pinned on him, casually name-dropping his position while smirking straight at me.
"You should've come tomorrow. We had plans for tonight."
"What the hell, Luther?" I snapped.
Luther looked at me. Blinked.
Then looked back at Emiliano. Blinked again.
Boom.
Did he just—
Did he just elbow Emiliano in the jaw?
And then ran?
Locked himself in the other room?
What the actual hell did I miss that led to this?
I feel like a husband catching his wife cheating.
And I hate that I'm laughing.
Emiliano is groaning, dramatically massaging his jaw like he's in a soap opera.
That must've hurt.
"Don't make me send you back to the white room, darling," Emiliano said, still in that same theatrical tone.
"Fuck you!" Luther yelled from the other room.
"Like you weren't about to."
I think Luther is breaking the room. Something crashed. Emiliano just chuckled—that kind of chuckle. The one that would make even a white Karen back out of a Whole Foods parking lot.
He was pissed.
"Honey, you better not be breaking my paintings. That's not a cute way to show embarrassment. Might ruin our marriage."
Marriage?
What the actual fuck?
Did the Prime Minister know about this?
"Fuck you and your marriage!" Luther screamed.
"Luther!" Emiliano growled.
What am I even witnessing?
"Hello?!" I finally interrupted.
"I'm having an argument with my wife," Emiliano said, with heavy emphasis like he was claiming land.
He didn't stop there.
"Help yourself to a drink. I recommend the tap water. Luther spit in the juice and the wine."
"I should have peed in it!" Luther shouted.
"Don't worry, honey, I can be into that too!" Emiliano called back.
I need to sit down.
I came here prepared for blood. For a shootout, maybe.
I did not come here for marital problems between the guy I've been losing sleep over and the psychopath who cut him open and locked him in a basement.
"Can someone explain to me what the hell is happening?"
Emiliano sighed. Sighed. Like I was the inconvenience.
"You're here to help me wrap up this experiment quicker. You were sent, right?"
"Yeah, I got a letter from the—"
He raised a finger to his lips, shushing me.
Oh.
Luther didn't know.
"Honestly?" he continued. "I added you just for fun. I was doing perfectly fine on my own. As you saw."
I'm two seconds away from breaking this wine glass over his smug little skull.
For a guy his size, he's got a lot of nerve.
"You'll sleep on the couch tonight. Tomorrow I'll move you to the guest house. I don't like my personal space invaded."
He paused. For drama, obviously.
"Especially now, when my wife and I are having a bit of a disagreement."
He poured himself a glass of wine, smirking as he sipped—and winked at me.
This is going to be a headache.
It's fine.
It's fine.
Nothing's changed.
The plan still stands: Me, Luther, Sicily. House by the sea.
Happy ending.
Eventually.
"Where are you going to sleep?"
"In my bed? With my wife? Like I have been doing it before you came?"
He looks at me like I am the most stupid being that ever breathed. I look at him like he needs a lobotomy.
I am so confused. We're talking quantum physics level of confusion.
Luther opens the door.
Behind him everything is ruined. Ripped satin sheets. Glass everywhere. A slashed mattress. He even shattered the window.
Luther stood in the hallway, panting like he'd just outrun a mob, cheeks flushed and hair clinging to his forehead in damp, rebellious curls. His sweater was stretched at the collar, slipping off one shoulder like it had tried to abandon ship mid-chaos. And yet, with all that wreckage at his back, he had the nerve to look smug. Arms crossed, lips curled into a cocky little smirk.
If Emiliano had tried to tame him, he'd clearly picked the wrong leash.
And Emiliano?
He looked- amused?
Like when your kitten breaks the cup you left on the counter. Or when the puppy is running around with your shoe in mouth.
This is gonna be a long night
"I am ready for the white room. I ate too much takeout anyway. I need to lose a few pounds"
Emiliano laughed.
Not the sinister laugh he usually had. Not like the mafia lord he was known as.
He just laughed. Like he was in love.
And I did what any rational man in my shoes would do.
I got up.
I walked to Luther.
I grabbed his waist and kissed him.
Hard. Wild. Hungry.
He struggled to break free.
"Missed you, babe"
Those were my last words before collapsing.
Emiliano looked like a wild animal. With his eyes turning from honey brown to red. Blood red.
He just smashed the wine bottle onto my head.
But I still won this round