Chapter 225
-LUCA-
We were finally back in the suite.
Alone.
I had been tired of the hospital and all the doctors and nurses constantly checking because Charlotte insisted that they do. Eventually she listened to them that everything was okay and let me leave.
Thankfully, she had finally changed out of the skirt.
Now she was in sweats. The usual ones. Soft. Still looking good on her figure.
It did not help.
I wished it did.
It did not. Not even a little.
I still wanted her.
Badly.
I started doing maths.
Well, not really.
Change the rules to once a month.
No. That was crazy. I would die.
Once a week.
Once a day?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It would never be enough.
I was used to sleeping around. I did it for fun. For the reputation. I did not even know why anymore. Charlotte confused everything in my life.
I had never craved it like this. With other women it ended. With Charlotte, sex made me feel alive. Now that I knew what it was to be inside her, I craved it all the time. In the car. In the hospital. In this suite with her in grey sweatpants like that was supposed to be safer than a skirt.
She sat on the couch with her feet under her, hair still a little flat, eyes still too serious. She had been like that since the accident. Like she could not get over what had happened. Like the crash was still happening in her head.
“What happened on the track?” she finally asked. “You are usually in full control of your car. You don’t
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make mistakes like that. Did I do something wrong? What can I do so that doesn’t happen tomorrow?”
ooked at her mouth.
Then at the wall.
“Just wear the usual outfit you do.”
She frowned. “What?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Charlotte. I don’t fucking know.”
She stared at me like I had started speaking another language. I could not tell her the skirt had put me against the barrier. That was insane. That was also true.
“Luca.” My name came out careful. “That doesn’t make sense. How does what I wear help you drive?”
“It doesn’t. Forget I said it.”
“You said it like it mattered.”
“I say a lot of things.”
She pulled at her hair, confused, waiting for an answer I was not going to give. “You were fine, then you weren’t. Nico’s right. Your head wasn’t in the car. That’s so not like you. Something distracted you today. It cannot happen again.”
“My head is fine. They scanned it because you asked them to.”
“You hit a wall.”
“I hit a wall because I drove like an amateur. Sunday I won’t.”
“That doesn’t change what already happened.”
I dragged a hand down my face. The suite smelled like her shampoo and it did not help.
Last night she had worn a dress and I had run. This morning she had worn a skirt and I had crashed. Now she was in sweats and I still wanted to pull her into my lap and forget the grid.
“Wear what you always wear,” I said again, because my mouth had no self-control. “Jeans. Team shirt. Even what you’re in now can work.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand what that has to do with Turn 3 or you crashing.”
“Neither do I. That’s the point. I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”
I was losing it.
She might think I hit my head today.
She searched my face. I gave her nothing useful.
Then she got up.
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Came closer.
Started fussing
That was worse than the questions.
She checked the mark on my cheek with her fingers like the hospital lights had missed something. She asked if my neck still hurt. If I wanted water. If I wanted the extra pillow. If I had taken the thing they gave me for the ache.
She smelled like soap and her and the hotel shampoo I was never going to survive.
I swallowed hard.
“Charlotte.”
“Hold still.”
“I am still.”
“You’re not. You’re doing that thing with your jaw.”
She was too close. I could see the place on her throat where concealer had not quite covered a mark I had left. I could feel the heat of her. I wanted to put my mouth there and ruin the conversation.
I locked my hands on the back of the couch so I would not lock them on her.
“I need you in one piece,” she said quietly. “That’s all I’m asking. Tell me what actually helps.”
You in this room.
You not looking at Nico or my brother.
You not in a skirt.
You under me.
You saying my name the way you did against the glass.
“Sleep,” I said. “Food. You not crying in a corridor. I can work with the rest.”
“I thought you were-” She stopped. “Don’t do that again.”
“I’ll try.”
It was the most honest thing I had said all day.
I stood.
Too close.
She tipped her head back. No makeup. Still the girl who had thrown herself at me outside the medical centre. Seeing her there had felt so fucking good I had forgotten the car for a second.
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Once a month was a joke.
ce would never have been enough.
I fucking wanted her.
Now.
I was about to do something stupid with my hands when someone knocked.
Marco.
I glared at the door.
Of course.
Just when I thought we were getting the room to ourselves.
“Don’t.” I muttered.
Charlotte blinked. “It’s your brother.”
“That’s the problem.”
The knock came again, louder. “I have actual food,” Marco called. “Not hospital food. Open or I use the spare.”
I closed my eyes.
Charlotte got up. I caught her wrist without thinking. I could feel her pulse under my thumb.
“Later,” I said, and I did not know if I meant the conversation or her or the rule I had already broken.
She looked at my mouth, still puzzled by the outfit comment, still waiting for a version of me that made
sense.
Then she pulled free and went to the door because she was still the person who let my family in.
Marco stepped inside with bags and a grin that died a little when he saw my face.
“Bad time?”
“There is no good time,” I said. “You have a gift for entering during the worst times ever.”
He glanced at Charlotte, then at me. He could not read the room. Or he could, and he was choosing not to
care.
“I brought soup,” he announced. “And bread. Other things as well.”
“Marco.”
“What? You crashed. People send soup. It is normal.”
Charlotte took the bags. Kind. Too kind. She started unpacking like this was normal, like my brother had
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not just walked into the middle of me almost putting her on the couch. Again.
Marco set a boule down. “Mom called. I told her you were sleeping. You’re welcome.”
I wanted to be alone with Charlotte.
“Leave now or I will fucking end you.”
65 sche
“You keep saying that,” he said cheerfully. “And yet I remain alive, healthy, and in your suite. Eat so I have something to give her tomorrow before she demands a live video of you chewing.”
Charlotte actually smiled. Did she find this amusing?
I did not.
“I’ll go,” Marco said, glancing between us again. “I can take a hint.”
“Stay,” Charlotte said, too kind.
“No,” I said, at the same time.
They both looked at me.
I exhaled. “Stay twenty minutes. Then get out. I have a race to think about.”
Marco’s mouth twitched. “Copy. Twenty minutes.”
He talked the entire time. About Mother. About the girl she wanted him to meet. Other things as well.
Charlotte laughed naturally with him, it made me sick. I watched her mouth and hated my brother for existing in the same air as her shampoo.
I sat down before I grabbed her in front of him.
Once a day?
Should that be the new rule? That should be enough.
I was already lying to myself again.
It would never be enough.
I needed professional help.
I needed him to leave.
I needed her.
And I still could not say any of that out loud.
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The Mockey Captam’s Unwanted Wife
Dex Morgan
Dex works to elevate each story with clean writing, emotional balance, and thoughtful flow for readers.