Chapter 64: Misunderstanding

Third POV

At the dining table sat Marco, Edoardo, and Luca. Edoardo was quietly eating his meal, and Marco was doing the same, showing no interest in starting a conversation. Luca, however, could hardly focus on his food. Every so often, his gaze drifted to Marco’s neck, where the red marks left by someone’s fingers were still visible. The sweet smile Luca usually wore was nowhere to be seen. His expression remained blank, but his eyes narrowed each time he looked at Marco’s neck.

Marco noticed every glance. He could feel Luca’s scorching, inquisitive gaze following him throughout the meal, but he had no intention of satisfying his curiosity.

Edoardo continued eating as though nothing unusual had happened. Once Marco had eaten enough, he pushed his chair back and stood. Luca rose at almost the same moment, prompting Marco to cast him an empty glance before turning to Edoardo.

"I’ll be hiring another bodyguard for myself," Marco said.

"I do not agree," Edoardo replied without hesitation.

"I was not asking for permission."

Edoardo sighed as he added, "Someone within the mansion. No outsiders."

"Why should I listen?"

He did not wait for Edoardo to answer. Marco began descending the stairs, with Luca following close behind. The sound of the man’s footsteps was enough to tell him that he had no intention of being left behind, but Marco refused to acknowledge him.

"Marc," Luca called when they reached the hallway near Marco’s room. "Can I ask you something?"

Marco kept walking. His silence should have been enough of an answer, but Luca seemed determined to get one out of him. ℯ

"Do you hate me?"

Marco stopped outside his bedroom door, though he did not turn around. He could have answered with a simple yes or no, but even that felt like more attention than Luca deserved. He had no desire to reassure the man, nor did he care to explain the obvious distance between them.

Still, Luca continued. "Is it because I talk too much? Or because I’m not good-looking enough? Or is it because I’m close to your father despite knowing you hate him?"

Marco looked at the door in front of him, refusing to give Luca the satisfaction of seeing his expression. "You should go back now."

He opened the door, intending to step inside and end the conversation. Before he could do so, Luca caught his arm.

Marco’s gaze dropped to the hand gripping him. And in that brief moment, Fabio’s voice came back to him, clear enough to make him recall every word:

"If, by even the slightest mistake, he dares to touch you, I’ll make him choke on his own blood. That’s a promise."

The memory brought an unexpected smirk to Marco’s lips. Fabio had said it with such certainty that Marco could almost picture the look on his face again. He remembered Fabio’s jealous expression, too, and the thought amused him far more than it should have. His smile widened before he could be bothered to stop it.

He did not notice the way Luca’s expression changed as he watched him. Luca took that small smile as a sign of encouragement, mistaking a private thought about another man for a reaction to his own touch.

Without warning, Luca threw his arms around Marco and pulled him into a sudden embrace. Marco stumbled backward, striking his hand against the edge of the door. Pain shot through it, and a deep groan escaped him before he could hold it back.

Instead of immediately stepping away, Luca released him and pushed him farther into the room, then shut and locked the door behind them.

Marco stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then recovered and moved straight toward Luca. The man began inching closer, apparently intending to kiss him.

Marco’s eyes narrowed. The trace of amusement had vanished from his face, replaced by a sharp, unmistakable disgust. Without much thought, he shoved Luca away with enough force to send him falling onto his backside.

"What do you think you are doing?" Marco demanded, his voice dangerously deep.

Luca blinked up at him, confusion spreading across his face. "I... thought... touch was your love language," he stammered, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. "You smiled earlier when I..."

Marco closed his eyes briefly before opening them and pointing toward the door.

"Leave. Now!"

Tears spilled down Luca’s cheeks. He looked up at Marco as though he had been wronged, but Marco felt no sympathy for him.

"Did I do something wrong?" Luca asked, his voice breaking. "Why are you always so mean to me?"

Marco looked down at him, his expression carrying nothing close to warmth or concern. If anything, his disgust had only deepened. He squatted in front of Luca, making sure the man understood every word that followed.

"Just because I agreed to the wedding does not mean we are close," Marco said. "Do not try touching me again, or you will really die, and I will not save you again."

There was nothing left to discuss. Marco turned and headed for the bathroom, intending to take a second shower after the unwanted contact. He left Luca sitting on the floor, crying, without sparing him another glance.

The moment the bathroom door closed, Luca’s expression changed. The weakness he had displayed earlier disappeared, leaving his eyes narrowed in thought. He no longer looked like someone desperate for affection. Instead, he seemed to be examining the events, searching for anyone who could have put their hands on his fiancé.

"Someone’s misleading my man," he whispered.

His mind shifted to the marks on Marco’s neck, and bitterness tightened his expression. Whoever had left those marks had managed to get close enough to Marco to touch him, while Luca could barely stand beside him without being pushed away. The contrast gnawed at him, turning his hurt into something far uglier.

"He is mine!" Luca hissed, lightly pulling at his hair. His eyes remained fixed on the bathroom door, as though Marco might come out and prove him wrong. "He is only mine."