I’m not sure what’s changed, but everything is different, and it’s more than just the douchebag from the club with a message. I knew something was happening last night when I woke up to Lucas stealthily gathering the things one of his men had brought from my place.

I was grateful that whoever Lucas had given permission to rummage through my things had thought to pack my comfy clothes. After the night I’d had, my soft cotton joggers and long-sleeve tee was exactly what I’d needed. I’m not really sure how long I’d actually managed to keep my eyes open after I changed and was cuddled on the huge leather sofa with Gatsby, but I’m sure I hadn’t slept long when I woke.

I tried to ask questions, but the bad boy bestia was definitely in no mood to be forthright with information. I don’t think he was any less pissed off hours after the incidents than he was when he’d first learned I was injured. In fairness, though, I really had no idea my back had been scraped by the knife. The doctor said that adrenaline sometimes has a way of masking pain, and since I generally have a high tolerance for pain, I felt nothing. Well, except angry bitch fury. It’s not really too bad of an injury, though.

I was too tired to fight with Lucas last night so I let him pack up all the things that were delivered for Gatsby and me and pass them off to one of his men with orders to put them in the Land Rover without too many questions. When he kneeled in front of me, tugging his huge man-sized hoodie over my head, I saw in the struggle in his eyes, and it seared my heart knowing I was likely the cause. I don’t like being a burden on any level, and that’s exactly what I’d become to Lucas, in spite of his self-appointed role as my keeper. Only I hadn’t noticed upon waking that I’d been shivering, so my missing survival skills more than necessitate some hero intervention. Cue the bad boy bestia and his hoodie.

He tossed my running shoes into the tote bag before calling his man, Luis, into the sitting room from the hallway where he was waiting. I’d gently reminded him that I’d need to wear those shoes if we were leaving, but without pausing, he passed the bag to the giant yet beautiful man who had walked in. He instructed Luis to carry the bag and Gatsby and said he’d take me. On that, I quickly jumped up and argued. I didn’t need to be carried. I was more than capable of walking, but Luis and Lucas were both unaffected by my argument. Nevertheless, I’d glared daggers at him when he came over to me. Wrapping the blanket brought in earlier for me around my shoulders, he cradled me in his arms.

If that move hadn’t felt so damn amazing, I probably would’ve been able to stay mad longer than seven seconds. Unfortunately or fortunately—it could go either way—I wasn’t able to resist the feelings for long.

We were in Lucas’s matte black sporty luxury SUV with two other vehicles driven by his men following. I’m positive one vehicle belonged to Lucas since it’s the matte black Audi R8 we arrived at Club Indigo in. It was apparent pretty quickly that we were leaving Boston. At that point, he could have been driving me someplace to kill me, and I’m not sure I could’ve dug up any care to fight it. It didn’t matter anymore. The only way not to worry about things you can’t control is to shut down, and that’s exactly what I did.

It wasn’t until a while later when I woke up that we pulled off the quiet and smooth pavement of the highway and drove through huge iron gates onto a bumpy gravel path. It was eerily dark, and there was no sign of any buildings in proximity. Even though I was confused, not even for a second was I scared. Let’s be honest, if Lucas were going to kill me, would he have had his men jumping through hoops to make sure I had the things I needed to be comfortable and, most importantly, Gatsby? He definitely wouldn’t have had any need to have a doctor check out my wound and make sure I had medication to prevent an infection. After a few more minutes of driving in the dark silence, I finally laid my eyes on the massive estate.

Whoa. This is incredible. Sprawled across what must be dozens of acres was the home. But not just any home—probably the most incredible estate home I’d ever seen with multiple other carriage house homes surrounding it. It was hard to decipher the different buildings in the dark even with the landscape lighting highlighting each structure. Just beyond the estate, I saw the reflection of the full moon shimmering off the water surface of the sound.

Now here I am waking up in enormous bed sitting in a room that’s easily the size of the entire first floor of my brownstone. The floor-to-ceiling curtains darken the room, but I can see daylight filtering through the cracks. I’ve been awake for quite some time, but when I saw Lucas in the corner chair facing the bed deep in thought while fumbling with a deck of cards, I’d decided I could fake sleep a little longer to avoid dealing with the hell of my current life. Unfortunately, I think I’ve put it off as long as I can, and the chances of Lucas getting tired of waiting and moving on to another place are slim at this point.

I have no idea what’s going on, and I don’t know why we’re even here . . . wherever here actually is. But more than that, I don’t know what’s happening with Lucas and me. Why is he so invested in protecting me? I really just don’t get it, but I want to understand.

Lucas was Matteo’s older brother, but they couldn’t be more different. Where Matteo was funny, personable, and everyone’s friend, Lucas is serious, unapproachable, and doesn’t trust anyone. So how does someone with Lucas’s personality traits make me feel so many things at once?

I wanted to believe the move to Boston would prove that I didn’t need anyone. I wanted to be on my own for once. For a moment, I had something to prove to myself and everyone else, but now, I know that the moment Lucas loses interest in whatever it is we have, I’ll miss him. I’ll question what I could’ve done differently, but this was never what I wanted. Needing someone in my life again is an un-survivable risk.

So quickly after arriving in my new world with a plan, it was all swept away, and I’ve gotten so wrapped up in it, I think I’ve failed. I know I have. I’m fairly certain I do actually need him.

I open my eyes, watching him. He looks troubled, and it makes me sad that I’m most likely the cause.

“Lucas,” I whisper. “What are we doing?”

He stacks the cards neatly, sliding one in his pocket as he stands. He moves toward my side of the bed with determination in his expression. Kneeling on the floor next to the bed, he searches my face, reaching for my thoughts. Lying on my side with my head resting on the pillow, Lucas brushes the backs of his fingers along my cheek.

“Good morning, principessa. Did you sleep well?” he asks intentionally not answering the question I’d asked first.

“Lucas, what . . . are we . . . doing? I need to know. For a minute, can we please stop with the game? Because nothing is making sense, and I can’t pretend I don’t care right now.”

“Elianna. There’s a lot that we will discuss what’s happening, but I’m not sure I know enough to give you concrete information. For now, you’re safe, and that’s all that really matters to me, principessa,” he says with a timid smile.

Clearly, we’re not on the same page if he thinks I was talking about the incident, and I can understand how he’d confuse the two. “Bestia, I don’t mean the troubles. I mean us . . . what are we doing? What’s happening between the two of us? I’m causing you problems, yet you’re still here watching over me. Why, Lucas?”