Kate's POV:

I lay on my stomach on the soft, plush bed, the cream-colored sheets slightly wrinkled beneath me. My sweater was rolled up to my shoulders, and my face was buried in a pillow to muffle the sounds of my discomfort. My back throbbed with a dull ache that refused to ease up, and Emily's hands weren't exactly helping.

Her fingers pressed into my muscles, harsh and unrelenting, as if she were kneading dough rather than giving a massage.

"Emily, I swear, you're trying to kill me," I groaned, my voice muffled by the pillow. "What's in your hands? Bricks? Cement? Steel?"

Emily huffed in frustration, her hands continuing their assault. "I'm trying, Kate! It's not like I do this professionally, okay? Give me a break."

I let out an exaggerated groan, shifting slightly to relieve some of the pressure. "Maybe Kay should do it. She's got softer hands."

Emily paused, as if considering it, then sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll admit defeat. My magical hands clearly aren't magical enough."

Before either of us could say another word, the bedroom door swung open with a loud bang, slamming against the wall. My heart leaped into my throat, and Emily jumped so hard she nearly knocked over the lotion bottle.

Lucio stood in the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room. His tailored suit clung to his frame in a way that made it impossible not to notice the tension radiating from his body.

"What the hell is going on in here?" he demanded, his voice low and clipped, making the air feel heavier. His eyes shifted from me to Emily, his brow furrowing. "Why was there yelling?"

Emily straightened up, holding the lotion bottle like a shield. "Nothing! We're fine," she said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Just a little... back issue."

Lucio's sharp green eyes locked onto me, narrowing slightly. "Back issue? From what?"

I clenched the pillow tighter, knowing full well this was not a conversation I wanted to have with him. Emily, ever the genius, decided to bolt from the room, mumbling something about needing water. Thanks a lot, Emily.

Lucio walked over to the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight as he sat down. "What happened?" His tone wasn't exactly gentle, but it wasn't as harsh as before either.

"I fell," I mumbled, hoping he'd leave it at that.

He didn't. "Fell where?"

I turned my head to look at him, my brows furrowing. "Have you forgotten? I slipped in the bathroom. My bathroom—the one you shouldn't be in. Because you left the floor wet after your shower."

For a moment, his expression flickered—guilt, maybe? But then it hardened again, his jaw tightening. "You should have been more careful."

I stared at him, incredulous. "Are you seriously blaming me for your carelessness?"

"I'm not blaming anyone," he said, his voice clipped.

"You're not apologizing either," I snapped. "Is that so hard for you? To just say sorry?"

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. "I don't apologize. For anything."

"Hey! What are you—"

"Stay still," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

His hands were warm, his touch surprisingly gentle as he massaged the lotion into my aching muscles. For a moment, I was too stunned to protest. The tension in my back began to ease, but the tension in the room was palpable.

"Why do you care enough to do this but not enough to just admit you were wrong?" I asked, my voice quieter now but still tinged with frustration.

He didn't answer. His hands continued their slow, steady movements, working out the knots in my back as if my question had never been asked.

"Lucio," I pressed. "Why won't you just say it? An apology doesn't make you weak, you know."

Still, he said nothing.

My frustration boiled over. "Forget it," I snapped. "If you can't even admit when you've messed up, then just leave." He stood abruptly, towering over me. "You don't know what you're talking about, Kate."

I propped myself up on my elbows, wincing at the sharp pain in my back but refusing to back down. "I know enough. You think being powerful gives you a free pass to act like this? To treat people like they're beneath you?"

The sheer arrogance of his statement made me see red. "Unbelievable. You're so full of yourself that you can't even admit when you're wrong."

He stood abruptly, towering over me. "You don't know what you're talking about, Kate."

"I know enough," I shot back. "You think being a powerful gives you a free pass to act like this? To treat people like they're beneath you?" 

His jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists at his sides. "That's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about, Lucio?" I demanded, my voice rising. "You left the bathroom in a mess. I slipped, hurt my back, and now I'm lying here in pain. And you're acting like I'm the one at fault!"

"You think this is about you?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, the tension in the room crackling like a live wire. "You have no idea what my life entails, Kate. What I deal with every day."

"Then enlighten me!" I shot back, sitting up fully now, despite the pain. "You love playing the mysterious, brooding figure, but you never actually explain yourself. Why are you even here? In my room, in my life? What do you want from me?"

His gaze flickered with something I couldn't place—anger, frustration, maybe even regret—but his walls were firmly back up. "You wouldn't understand."

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "Of course. Always the same excuse. I wouldn't understand. So don't bother explaining, right? Just keep everyone in the dark and expect them to follow your rules."

Lucio's fists tightened, his knuckles white. "This isn't about rules—"

"It's always about rules with you!" I cut him off. "Your rules. Your control. Your inability to admit when you've made a mistake. You're so used to people following your every command that you can't handle someone calling you out."

He stood, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might actually say something, but instead, he turned and walked toward the door.

Before he left, he paused, his hand on the doorknob. "You should rest," he said quietly, without looking back.

The door clicked shut behind him, and I let out a frustrated sigh, flopping back onto the bed.

Why did he always have to make everything so complicated?

The living room was buzzing with activity. Joseph and Steven were arguing over yet another nonsensical topic—something about who was more attractive. Michen was scrolling through his phone, barely paying attention to the chaos around him. Emily sat on the armrest of the couch, watching the boys with an amused smirk.

I plopped down between Steven and Joseph, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to my chest. My back still ached, but I wasn't about to show weakness. I needed a distraction, and their ridiculous banter would have to do.

"Of course, I'm the most handsome," Joseph declared dramatically, running a hand through his hair.

"Keep dreaming," Steven shot back, crossing his arms.

I rolled my eyes. "Please, if you two are the definition of handsome, I'm moving to a planet where mirrors don't exist."

Joseph gasped, clutching his chest like I'd just stabbed him. "Kate! That's cruel."

"Not as cruel as what I endure daily in this house," I muttered, my voice dripping with sarcasm. My words earned a few chuckles from Emily and Michen, but I wasn't joking.

Steven looked at me curiously. "Someone's in a mood. What's got your panties in a twist?"

Before I could answer, Lucio entered the room. His sharp green eyes immediately landed on me, and my stomach twisted. He didn't say a word as he moved to his usual seat by the fireplace, whiskey glass in hand.

Ignoring him—or at least trying to—I turned my attention back to the boys. "You know, I've been thinking," I said, my voice saccharine sweet but laced with venom. "If we ever need an Olympic sport for creating messes and never cleaning up, Lucio would win gold every time."

Joseph snorted, clearly not catching the jab. "You're not wrong. He's got a talent for creating chaos."

"That's putting it lightly," I quipped, loud enough for Lucio to hear. "He's practically a walking hazard."

Lucio's eyes narrowed, but he didn't take the bait.

Steven leaned closer, grinning. "Alright, Kate, spill. What's this about?"

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, nothing. Just a minor incident involving a wet bathroom floor and me landing flat on my back. No big deal."

The room went silent. All eyes turned to Lucio.

He swirled the whiskey in his glass, his expression unreadable. "You're still on about that?"

"Still on about it?" I snapped, sitting up straighter. "I bruised my back, Lucio! And you haven't even apologized!"

He leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. "I don't apologize, Kate. Not my style."

I felt my blood boil. "Oh, of course. Because Lucio, the mighty mafia leader, doesn't need to take responsibility for anything, does he?"

"Exactly," he said calmly, taking a sip of his drink.

The sheer arrogance of his tone was too much. "You're unbelievable," I spat. "You think being a mafia leader gives you a free pass to act like a jerk?"

Lucio's jaw tightened, and his knuckles whitened around the glass. "Watch it, Kate."

"Why?" I stood up, ignoring the dull throb in my back. "Are you going to throw me out like one of your precious rules-breaking employees? Go ahead! Throw something else while you're at it!"

The next moment, the whiskey glass flew from his hand, smashing against the wall with a deafening crash.

The room fell into stunned silence. Everyone froze, their eyes darting between me and Lucio.

I didn't flinch. Instead, I picked up a vase from the side table and held it up. "Break something else. Here, let me help you," I said, my voice dripping with mock sweetness. Without waiting for a response, I hurled it across the room. It shattered into pieces, adding to the mess.

Lucio's eyes widened for a split second before narrowing into a glare. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What you do best," I said, my voice dripping with venom. "Destroying things. Except I'm taking responsibility for my actions, unlike you."

"Feel better?" I asked, crossing my arms and glaring at him.

Lucio stood, his tall frame towering over me. His green eyes burned with fury, but his voice was eerily calm. "You're playing a dangerous game, Kate."

I stepped closer, refusing to back down. "No, Lucio. You're the one playing games—pretending you're untouchable when all you're doing is hiding behind your title. Newsflash: being a mafia boss doesn't make you immune to basic human decency."

He scoffed, running a hand through his dark hair. "You don't understand, Kate. This is who I am. I don't apologize. I don't seek validation. And I sure as hell don't care what anyone thinks of me."

I let out a bitter laugh. "No, of course not? Too powerful to be accountable for anything. Too consumed by your own pride to care about the people you hurt."

"You don't care?" I repeated, my voice rising. "Then why are you here? Why bother pretending to care about anything or anyone? Or is this just your way of keeping people under your thumb?"

Lucio took a step closer, the tension between us crackling like electricity. "I do what I have to do to keep people alive," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you know me, Kate, but you don't. So stop trying."

"Maybe I don't know you," I shot back. "But I do know one thing: if you can't take responsibility for your actions, then you're not half as powerful as you think you are."

The words hung in the air like a challenge.

Lucio's gaze bore into mine, and for a moment, I thought he might actually say something—something real. But instead, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there, my chest heaving with frustration.

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the house, and I sank back onto the couch, the adrenaline draining from my body.

"Wow," Joseph said, breaking the silence. "That was... intense."

"More like insane," Steven muttered, shaking his head.

Emily placed a hand on my shoulder, her expression a mix of concern and admiration. "You're braver than I am, Kate. I wouldn't have dared to talk to him like that."

I let out a bitter laugh, resting my head in my hands. "Brave? No. Stupid? Definitely."

But as I sat there, surrounded by shattered glass and stunned silence, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction. For once, I'd stood my ground. And for better or worse, Lucio had heard me loud and clear.