"You're a good girl," Father Josè tells me, and I lean my face to the hand capping my right cheek. I smile at him, with a small grin, feeling guilty because I know I'm not a good girl. Not as good as he would have liked me to be.

"Thank you," I mumble, burrowing deeper into his embrace.

It was after lunch. We are all standing in the driveway saying goodbye to him. Although he said he had a meeting, which he had delayed for thirty minutes, he was reluctant to let us go. His easy, gentle smile stayed on his face while hugging all of us, the grey highlights of his hair shining in the sunlight—an old man ageing gracefully, with love and light.

We waited for him to disappear back inside. "Let's go," Nic shouts immediately his cassock is no longer visible, jumping on Luc's back. He bursts out laughing when Luca holds him to his back, giving him a piggyback. 

"You're becoming too big for this," I tell him, smoothing his back. He chuckles, leaning the side of his cheek against Luc's neck.

It happens unexpectedly, catching us unaware that we are immobile for a second before we scramble for refuge which is how a bullet gets through Luc's arm when he drops Nic behind him, covering him with his body.

We crouched behind the car when a shoot-out began. Fumbling for our guns, two SUVs drive slowly in front of our car, I aim my gun at the small opening of the window of the one behind, while Luc shoots at the guy who'd just shot him, getting his upper arm, a scream erupts and he, drops inside the car,  rolling the window up making me almost smile, but I don't because now we are shooting against each other at holy grounds—a church that I have loved since the day my father brought me here when I was small, a place beloved by one of my favourite people in the world. I was angry that these people targeted us here.

Suddenly, and almost too soon, the two SUVs drive away leaving us behind with cars spotting gunshots. We look at each other, breathing hard until Matteo hours, "Everybody in the car."  Luc's shirt is drenched with blood. I go to him immediately, but Matteo is already beside him, trying to get him to the back seat, but he says he can drive.

"You can't drive, Luc. But doesn't budge, he opens the driver's door of the nearest and slides in not caring about his hand. We all scurry to our respective cars and drive away grateful that Father Josè was safely inside having his meeting.

My heart is racing in panic, not because of the shooting, but because Luc is really breeding and he might lose his hand and career.

Maxwell whimpers, and I take away my eyes from Luc to look at him surprised to see him there as if my brain had momentarily forgotten his existence.

"Are you crying?" I ask him. He glances at me, sheepishly wiping away a tear on his cheek. I can tell he is scared. Sitting at the corner of the seat beside me, his fingers shaking when he tries to brush another tear off his cheek.

He doesn't answer, he turns his head downwards, but only for a second before we are violently shoved backwards because Luc is driving like he is on the track, which is one of the reasons he has an agreement with the patriarchs never to drive anyone but family. They assume he would be more careful with people he loves and daring with everyone else.

That night after the shooting, we are all seated outside around the fire, first in silence, watching the flickering flames, the mesmerizing golden glow calling us to relax, and we do. Luca is leaning back on his chair with his eyes closed, the unhurt hand clasped around a glass of brandy resting on his thigh. I'm seated next to him, my heart in perfect motion, but my brain is relentlessly overplaying the shooting.

"You know..." I begin, the sound of the words disappearing down my throat. I clear my voice, and a chuckle emerges as I try to find the words to describe how I feel about today.

Their eyes are on me—all of them—these people that I love, deeply love. I had put them at risk today because I wanted to help Max.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, feeling a pinch of tears begin to swim in my eyes.

Luca quickly sat straight, his confused gaze landing on my face. "Why the hell would you apologize for something that wasn't your fault."

I shrug, unable to utter a single word.

"This wasn't your fault, Lia," he tells me, and everyone agrees.

"But if I hadn't been for my idea to bring Max—"

"Then whoever shot at us would have found another time to attack, maybe more successfully than today. " Luca cuts off my words. "This is not your fault." He says with conviction that dares me to contradict him.

I go silent again, but I feel an involuntary smile sneaking into my mouth when I feel Nic's head on my shoulder. I'm not sure whether I agree with them. This feels like it had been my fault, but I'm glad they don't see it that way.

We stay there longer than anticipated, in harmony, silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

"Let's go to bed. We have a few hours before our parents get here." Luca says, jumping onto his feet. We do as he says. I kiss them good night, but I hold Serena in my arms longer, I feel the warmth of her body sweeps into mine as her hand smoothly strokes my hair in a comforting gesture.

She knows. I tell myself. She knows I need this. When she lets me go, I whisper good night, and I turn to go to my bedroom finding Luca already there sitting on my bed.

"I need you," he says in a strained voice. "I need you too," I tell him, almost falling over my feet to get to him.

Waking up wrapped up in Luc's arm wasn't new, but this morning was different. I held him tighter sure not to squeeze his wounded arm with full knowledge of how different it would have felt waking up today if the bullet had done more damage than it had.

"Good morning," I whisper into his temple, feeling his naked body beside mine. "Hmmm," he mumbles, his fingertips raiding goosebumps along my spine. "I love you," I tell him, brushing my fingers in his hair. "Are you in pain?"

"Not on my arm if that's what you're asking." he laughs, soothing me with his hands, kissing me along my cheeks, lingering on my lips, his mouth devouring mine as if he hadn't spent the last few hours taking my body in a rollercoaster of pleasure.

"God, you're everything I knew you would be," he tells me between kisses, his hand slipping down my stomach, teasingly touching the one place that was begging for release. I can't believe my body still wanted more after the last one.

"Luc," I whispered, arching my back, feeling his hands everywhere even the wounded one. I gasp when he slides one finger into me, and then two. Somehow, I can't hold back a moan even when someone knocks on the door. "Yes," I hear Luca say, and I cover my mouth with both my hands when he gently caresses my clit with his thumb.

"Matteo says parents will be here soon." Nic's voice sounds like an echo because Luca is now swirling his tongue around one of my nipples while still finger fucking me.

"We will be there in a minute, Nic. Let me wake Lia."
I hear his footsteps, rushing down the stairs likely to the kitchen to find something to eat before breakfast.

"We need to rush this," I didn't say anything, there was nothing I wanted to say, I agreed with him. My body wanted....no...needed an organism, it craved for one just like it had craved for the others during the night, and Luca gave it to me.

"This was one of my favourite nights." I felt a smile on my lips, and I kissed his arm feeling restful and tired at the same time.

"I will go shower in my room, Meet you in the dining room in ten." I felt cold when his body left my side, and I pulled up the covers.

"Don't go back to sleep." He warns.

"I won't," I reply, holding onto the covers, my eyes following him, watching as he pulls up his pants.

"Why do you think they are late? I mean...dad said they'll be here when we woke up."

"Perhaps paying their acquaintances a visit, collecting Intel."

I nodded, my eyes still on him, shamelessly ogling him.

I waited until he was at the door.

"Luc,"

"Yeah," he turns to look at me, "don't look so smug." I throw a pillow at him, and he smoothly catches it, turns it once before his eyes returns to my face.

"You didn't kiss me goodbye."