Chapter 44: Unresolved

Fabio’s POV

I woke to a loud scream that nearly sent me right back to hell. I jolted upright, only to be instantly reminded by the searing pain in my shoulder that just a few hours ago, I took a bullet... for someone.

"What the hell, Tony!" And that someone groaned beside me, sounding just as annoyed as I felt.

Another scream echoed through the room. I furrowed my brows and forced myself to sit up properly, glaring at the man who apparently would not rest until he had woken the entire building.

"What the actual fuck!" Tony exclaimed, marching toward the bed. "Is it really you, Fabio?"

I managed a tight smile through the pain. "In the flesh."

I used to think my sister was dramatic, but it turned out another human existed who could perfectly match her chaotic energy: Tony.

"Geez! You are a freaking stalker, Chen! How did you find Fabio in this just one night of disappearance? You are a stalker!" Tony accused, leaping over toward Marco before snapping his attention back to me. "Did he kidnap you?"

"No," I shook my head, briefly glancing at Marco. His brows were drawn together in deep frustration. I quickly looked back at Tony.

Tony narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Marco as if he did not buy it for a second.

"You heard him," Marco muttered, his voice dangerously low, shoving Tony’s hands away.

Tony sneered, regaining his balance. He arched a questioning brow at Marco. "Don’t tell me you begged him to come all the way to Palermo just so you could fuck—"

Tony did not get to finish that sentence before Marco was lunging at him.

Yelping, Tony dashed out of the bedroom, hurling a string of curses back at Marco as he fled.

I did not realize a genuine, unforced smile had spread across my lips until the bedroom door clicked shut. The heavy silence that followed instantly snapped me back to reality.

"Sorry about that," Marco said, turning around to face me.

"It’s fine."

Without another word, I forced myself to climb out of the bed. The second my feet hit the floor, a shadow was right beside me. Naturally Marco.

"You need something?" he asked.

I stood up, making a point to look anywhere but at him. "No," I replied smoothly, fixing my hair with my good hand. "Thanks for letting me crash. I’ll get going."

I lingered for a split second, letting the words hang in the air, before brushing past him toward the door.

I was never a petty man. If anything, I was strictly rational. Marco had made it clear we were nothing, so we were nothing. Aside from the sex, there was nothing between us. Just physical necessity.

And yet, as my hand closed around the doorknob, a tight knot formed in my throat. I wanted him to say something. Anything. Maybe tell me to stop. Just something to get my fucking head straight and quiet this irritating pull I felt toward him.

"I’ll walk you out." He finally spoke, but the words only worsened this god-awful feeling gnawing at me. Frustration? Irritation? Bruised ego? Whatever it was, it multiplied tenfold.

Still, I kept my mouth shut.

I walked ahead of him, stepping deliberately slow down the hallway, half-waiting for some miraculous intervention. At one point, I abruptly stopped, and Marco ended up bumping right into my back.

I hissed sharply, clutching my injured shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked from right behind me. His breath brushed dangerously close to my ear, and hell, my entire body went from freezing cold to completely ablaze in a second.

"Mm," I hummed in a clipped reply, and immediately resumed walking before I did something stupid.

The moment we stepped into the living room, the scene was... how do I put this mildly? A disaster. Tony and a young guy- who happened to be Marco’s little brother I met a month ago- were literally rolling over each other, fighting tooth and nail over the TV remote.

Elia was pinned to the floor on his stomach, stretching his arm out as far as it would go to keep the remote away, while Tony crawled shamelessly over his back, swiping for it.

"We are watching Netflix, that’s final!" Elia yelled, trying to wriggle away.

"The hell we are!" Tony yelled right back.

Beside me, Marco let out a heavy sigh. He walked over to where Elia was now half-crawling under the dining table, smoothly snatched the remote from his hand, and slipped it into his own pocket.

The two children trapped in adult bodies instantly ceased their war, snapping their heads up to look at Marco.

"Grow up, both of you," Marco muttered.

I almost smiled, tracing the harsh lines of frustration on Marco’s forehead. Even when he was pissed, he radiated this unexplainable aura that seeped directly into my veins. Damn, I wanted to kiss him right then. Just to see him unravel. His entire existence was enough to seduce me and I would gladly beg for him. I was mad, and I did not mind a y bit.

"Give it—" Tony started to yell, but stopped short when he caught sight of me standing in the hallway. His furious expression instantly melted into a bright, unapologetic smile. "Good morning, Fabio. Sorry about earlier."

I offered him a tight smile and a silent nod. But just as Tony let his guard down, Elia shoved him off with enough force to send him flying, scrambling instantly to his feet.

"Yoo, it’s you. The Porsche guy," the young lad beamed, looking entirely innocent, as if he had not just been trying to rip someone’s throat out a second ago.

"Yes, it’s me," I said, a genuine smirk creeping onto my face.

Elia walked over, leaning in to whisper, "Did you... bring it today?"

Clearly, he meant the car.

"No," I whispered back. His lips pressed together into an immediate, disappointed pout, which drew a quiet chuckle from me. "But I did bring a Ferrari."

His eyes instantly lit up like fireworks. "Can I—"

He cut himself off, glancing begrudgingly past my shoulder. Marco had his eyes narrowed dead on us, clearly annoyed that he couldn’t hear the hushed conversation.

"Why not?" I continued in a low, conspiratorial murmur. "But you need to help me with something first."

Elia leaned in closer. "What is it?"

I briefly flicked my gaze toward Marco, who was now outright glaring at his brother. I smirked.

"I don’t actually want to leave yet, but I can’t exactly admit that to your brother. He is going to hold that on my head till death. So..." I lowered my voice to a bare thread. "...pretend you snatched my keys and run as fast as you can. The car is in the parking lot downstairs. It’s black. Probably the only sports car down there, so it won’t be hard to miss."

The kid grinned from ear to ear, nodding furiously. Without waiting for another word, he swiftly dipped his hand into my pocket and fished out the car key.

His eyes shone mischievously. Spinning on his heel, he dashed madly for the front door, shouting over his shoulder, "Tony, I’m going for a drive... in a Ferrari!"

I glanced over at Tony. The man who had just been clutching his back in fake agony was suddenly on his feet, sprinting after him.

"Wait for me, Elia, you little shit!"

The door slammed shut behind them. Just like that, mission accomplished.

Once a heavy silence settled over the room, I casually glanced back at Marco. He had his arms crossed, eyes narrowed at me in dark suspicion. I offered a lazy shrug, raising my good hand in mock surrender.

"Not my fault."

Marco walked over, stalking forward with the grace of a predator, never once taking his eyes off me. I didn’t look away either. Why would I? It felt like he’d cast some kind of maddening spell on me, binding me to him without even lifting a finger. All I wanted was to push him against the wall and force him to admit how wrong he was. He wasn’t nothing. Maybe whatever this was didn’t have a name, maybe it was just a twisted physical obsession, but it wasn’t nothing.

"I’m not stupid," he murmured, stopping just inches from my chest.

"I never said you were."

"Neither am I easy to fool."

I swallowed hard, fully aware that he saw right through my little stunt. "No, you’re not."

He stayed quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, the glare in his eyes shifted, melting into something softer. Something I’d never seen from him before. At least, never directed at me. And it wasn’t like I ever forgot a single detail when it came to him.

"But I was wrong," he finally said.

My breath hitched. I could feel my pulse suddenly drumming hard and fast against my ribs. "About what?"

He bit his lower lip, hesitating as if confessing state secrets. "About what I said before... you know."

"No, I don’t." I pushed, wanting him to say it.

"You took a bullet for me, and I behaved like a total asshole instead of just being grateful."

"And why did you do that?" I pressed, keeping my voice perfectly steady.

I watched him hesitate, the conflict clear on his face, before he finally answered. "I didn’t want you dead... yet."

A low chuckle rumbled in my chest. "Simply put, you were worried about me, right?"

He broke eye contact, looking away, but I caught the unmistakable twitch of his lips rising into a subtle, reluctant smile. "Never."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as hell."

I took a step, closing the remaining gap between us, forcing him to look back up at me. I held my breath, letting the heavy, charged silence stretch between us. It was always in the silence that things became complicated. The silent glares, the silent stolen glances, the silent dirty and breathless nights. It was this unspoken tension that kept me trapped in a suffocating web of pure lust and bruised ego—something I absolutely refused to name, because giving it a name meant crossing a line I couldn’t uncross.

"Good morning."

The sudden voice shattered the tension, thanfully. Marco and I snapped our heads toward the hallway. It was James.

"Don’t mind me. You two can continue," he added, flashing a knowing smirk before disappearing into what I assumed was the kitchen.

Marco turned back to me, clearing his throat. "Let’s check your wound first."

I nodded slowly, bringing my good hand up to hover over my injured shoulder. "It really does hurt though," I murmured, even adding a dramatic hiss for good measure.

It worked perfectly. Marco’s eyes widened in concern, and he leaned in close to inspect. Taking full advantage of his proximity, I leaned in until my lips brushed his ear, and bit down on the lobe—just hard enough to make him freeze completely in place.

Then, keeping my voice painfully low, measured, and dangerously controlled, I let out a dark half groan half moan. The exact octave I knew made him go weak in the knees.

"Now we are even," I whispered against his skin.