Lucio's POV:

The house was unusually quiet as I walked into the kitchen, the weight of the last few days heavy on my mind. I set my phone down on the counter, debating whether I should check in with Maya, my secretary. My schedule had been packed for weeks, but with Kate's condition, I couldn't bring myself to leave her side, not now.

I picked up my phone and dialed her number. After a few rings, she answered, her voice as sharp and professional as ever.

"Good morning, sir. I was just about to call you about the—"

"Maya, cancel all my meetings for this week," I interrupted, my tone leaving no room for argument.

There was a pause on the line before she spoke, clearly trying to mask her surprise. "Sir, you have an important meeting today with Mr. DeMarco regarding—"

"Maya, I said cancel everything," I repeated, my voice rising slightly. "This is non-negotiable. I'll be staying home due to a personal emergency."

"Of course, sir," she said quickly, though I could hear the hesitance in her voice. "I'll take care of it."

"Good," I said curtly. "And Maya, you're fired."

"What? Sir—" Her voice cracked, panic evident in her tone, but I hung up before she could finish. I wasn't in the mood for excuses, not after what she'd done the last time we spoke.

With the call over, I tossed my phone onto the counter and let out a frustrated sigh. I needed to focus on Kate now. Grabbing a frying pan from the cupboard, I decided to make her breakfast myself. She hadn't eaten much since she fell ill, and I wasn't about to let her slip through the cracks again.

As I prepared scrambled eggs and toast, the sound of heavy footsteps filled the room. Turning, I saw Steven and Jordan strolling in, their faces lit with curiosity.

"Whoa, what's the occasion?" Steven asked, leaning against the counter. "Lucio King, the man who doesn't lift a finger, is actually cooking?"

"Yeah, this is a sight to remember," Jordan added, smirking. "Should we get out our phones and document this?"

I ignored their jabs and continued plating the food. "Don't you two have anything better to do?"

"Not really," Steven said, popping a grape into his mouth. "So, who's the lucky lady?"

Before I could respond, Kate's voice echoed through the house. "Lucio! I need help!"

I froze for a moment before quickly grabbing the tray. Steven and Jordan exchanged knowing looks, their smirks widening.

"Did she just call you by your first name?" Steven teased. "Are we missing something here?"

"Yeah, and why's she shouting for you like that?" Jordan added, wiggling his eyebrows. "Lucio, is there something you're not telling us?"

I shot them both a glare. "Mind your own business."

"Come on, man, we're just curious," Steven said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "You're not even mad she's cursing and yelling for you. That's new."

"She's sick, you idiots," I snapped. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Carrying the tray, I headed upstairs, ignoring their laughter and muttered comments. Reaching Kate's room, I pushed the door open to find her sitting on the bed, her face pale but her eyes blazing with frustration.

"Finally," she muttered. "I thought you were going to let me die up here."

I placed the tray on the bedside table, crossing my arms. "What's the emergency, Kate?"

She gestured toward the bathroom door. "I need help getting to the bathroom. Do you want me to crawl or something?"

I sighed, moving to her side. "You could've just waited a bit longer."

"Oh, sure," she shot back sarcastically. "I'll just wet the bed next time."

Suppressing a smirk, I leaned down and scooped her into my arms. She let out a surprised squeak, clutching at my shirt for balance.

"You could've warned me!" she exclaimed, glaring up at me.

"Where's the fun in that?" I replied, carrying her into the bathroom.

Once she was settled, I stepped back, giving her some privacy. "Call me when you're done."

"I don't need a babysitter," she muttered, closing the door.

I leaned against the wall outside, shaking my head. Despite her stubbornness, I couldn't help but admire her resilience. Minutes later, her voice called out timidly, "Lucio, I'm done."

I stepped back inside to find her leaning against the sink, clearly too weak to walk. Without a word, I picked her up again and carried her back to bed.

"You're way too comfortable doing this," she said, though there was no real bite in her tone.

"Maybe you should stop being so difficult," I retorted, setting her down gently.

She rolled her eyes but didn't argue. As I placed the tray on her lap, she eyed the food suspiciously.

"You made this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, and you're going to eat all of it," I said firmly.

She took a hesitant bite, her expression softening. "It's not bad," she admitted, though she tried to hide her surprise.

"Not bad?" I echoed, feigning offense. "That's the best scrambled eggs you'll ever have."

She snorted, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Don't push your luck."

Watching her eat, I felt a sense of relief I hadn't expected. For the first time in days, she seemed a little better, and that was enough for now. As she finished, I took the tray and set it aside, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Thank you, Lucio," she said quietly, her gaze meeting mine. "For everything."

"You don't have to thank me," I replied, my voice softer than usual. "Just focus on getting better."

Her eyes lingered on me for a moment before she looked away, her cheeks faintly pink. "I will," she murmured.

As she settled back against the pillows, her breathing evening out, I stayed by her side, watching over her. For once, I felt at peace, knowing she was safe. Whatever this was between us, I couldn't deny its pull any longer.     

Kate's breathing grew steady, signaling she had fallen asleep. I remained by her bedside, unsure of what to do next. There was a warmth in the room, a stark contrast to the cold walls I was so accustomed to. It wasn't the kind of warmth you could measure by degrees; it was something else entirely, something that tugged at emotions I'd long buried.

After what felt like hours, I forced myself to stand. I needed a break, some air to clear my head. I left the room quietly, closing the door behind me. The moment I stepped into the hallway, I was met with Steven and Michen leaning against the wall, trying—and failing—to look inconspicuous.

"Are you two spying on me?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Steven smirked, completely unapologetic. "We're not spying. We're just... observing."

"Yeah, observing your very un-Lucio-like behavior," Michen added, crossing his arms. "So, how's the wife?"

"She's not my wife," I snapped, though the words felt hollow even to me.

"Could've fooled me," Steven quipped, leaning closer. "The way you're fussing over her, cooking for her, carrying her around like a princess... If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're smitten."

"I'm not smitten," I growled. "She's sick. I'm just taking care of her."

Michen raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "And calling her 'love' was part of the caregiving process?"

"Do you two have nothing better to do?" I shot back. "Isn't there a shipment you're supposed to be supervising?"

Steven chuckled. "We handed it off to Jordan and Joseph. They're more than capable."

"Great," I said flatly. "Then go supervise something else. Anything else. Just stay out of my business."

"Touchy, touchy," Michen muttered as I pushed past them.

I made my way downstairs, hoping to shake off the frustration. Steven and Michen's teasing didn't bother me as much as it should have—probably because they weren't entirely wrong. There was something about Kate, something that pulled me in despite every instinct I had telling me to stay away.

In the kitchen, I found Caleb sitting at the island, a glass of bourbon in hand. He looked up as I entered, his expression curious.

"Everything okay upstairs?" he asked.

"She's fine," I said, grabbing a glass and pouring myself some water. "Finally ate something."

Caleb nodded, swirling the bourbon in his glass. "That's good. You seem... tense, though."

I shot him a look, but he didn't flinch. Caleb had been with me long enough to know when something was on my mind. He was one of the few people I trusted completely, though that didn't mean I enjoyed being psychoanalyzed.

"It's nothing," I said, taking a sip of my water.

"Doesn't look like nothing," he replied. "Is it Kate?"

I sighed, setting the glass down. "She's complicated."

"People usually are," Caleb said with a shrug. "But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing."

I didn't respond, and Caleb didn't push. He was good at that—knowing when to drop a subject. After a few moments of silence, he stood and placed his empty glass in the sink.

"For what it's worth," he said, pausing at the doorway, "you're different around her. In a good way."

With that, he left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I leaned against the counter, staring into the half-empty glass of water in my hand. Caleb's words echoed in my mind, and as much as I wanted to dismiss them, I couldn't.

Hours later, I returned to Kate's room, the weight of the day still heavy on my shoulders. She was awake, sitting up in bed and flipping through a book. When she noticed me, she closed it and set it aside.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," I replied, stepping closer. "Feeling any better?"

"A little," she admitted. "Thanks to you, I guess."

I smirked, taking a seat beside her. "Guess?"

"Well, I'm not used to being taken care of," she said, her voice dropping. "It's... different."

I didn't know how to respond to that. Instead, I reached for the glass of water on the nightstand and handed it to her. She took it with a small smile, sipping it slowly.

After a few moments, she spoke again. "Why are you doing all this, Lucio?"

"Because you need it," I said simply. "And because I... care."

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, I thought I'd said too much. But then she smiled, a small, tentative smile that made my chest tighten.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Don't mention it," I replied, leaning back in the chair. "Just focus on getting better."

As Kate's soft breathing evened out beside me, her words echoed in my mind, carving deep into a place I thought was long gone—my heart. "You're a good man in my eyes," she had whispered, her voice laced with sleep and sincerity. How could someone so pure, so untainted, see goodness in a man like me? A man who had spilled blood and ruined lives without a second thought?

Her hand was still intertwined with mine, her grip light but steadfast. For a moment, I let myself be vulnerable. I allowed myself to feel the warmth of her touch and the calming rhythm of her presence. It wasn't a feeling I was used to. It was unnerving and oddly comforting at the same time.

The room was bathed in soft moonlight, casting delicate shadows across her peaceful face. The faint hum of the air conditioning filled the silence, mingling with the distant crash of waves against the shore. This moment, this fleeting stillness, was something I hadn't realized I craved until now.

As much as I wanted to linger here, reality pulled at me. I carefully disentangled our hands, moving as quietly as I could to not disturb her. She stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, but didn't wake. I tucked the blanket snugly around her before stepping out of the room.

Downstairs, the house was dim and quiet, save for the murmuring voices of the guys who hadn't quite managed to disperse yet. Their laughter ceased as soon as I stepped into the living room. Jordan, Joseph, Michen, and even Emily turned their attention to me, their faces lit with amusement.

"Boss, you're losing your edge," Jordan teased, holding up his phone. "Who knew the mighty Lucio King could look so... domestic?"

"Delete that," I growled, my tone low and warning.

Joseph smirked. "Relax, Lucio. It's just for us. You looked... surprisingly human, you know."

I leveled a glare at them, my patience thinning. "I said, delete it."

Michen, ever the peacekeeper, raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. We'll delete it. No need to go mafia on us." He glanced at his phone and pressed a few buttons, showing me the screen as the video disappeared.

"Good." My voice left no room for argument.

Emily crossed her arms, a sly grin on her face. "You've got it bad for her, don't you?"

I shot her a sharp look, but she didn't back down. "You're not fooling anyone, Lucio. We all see it."

"Mind your business," I snapped, my voice colder than I intended. The smirk faded from her lips, and the others exchanged glances.

Michen sighed, standing up. "Look, man. We're just saying—if you care about her, let her in. You've spent too long shutting people out."

The room fell silent, their words hanging heavy in the air. I didn't respond, instead turning and heading back upstairs. Their words stirred something inside me, but I wasn't ready to confront it—not yet.

Back in Kate's room, she was still asleep, her breathing steady and calm. I stood in the doorway, watching her for a moment. She was so small, so fragile in a world as dark as mine. Yet, there was a strength in her—a resilience that drew me to her in ways I couldn't fully understand.

I moved quietly to the chair by her bed, deciding to stay a while longer. She had asked me to stay, and for once, I found myself unable to deny her.

As the hours passed, I couldn't help but reflect on her words. "Even though you're a monster, I still do like you."

Could someone like her really see beyond the blood on my hands? Could there be redemption for someone like me?

I leaned back in the chair, the weight of her trust settling heavily on my shoulders. For the first time in years, I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more.