"That wasn't—" Marco started, then stopped. Because how do you explain that it wasn't just jealousy? "That's not why I punched him."
"Then why, for God fucking sakes?" Luca snapped, the patience he had barely been holding onto finally fraying at the edges.
Marco exhaled slowly. He could feel it—right there, at the back of his throat. The truth. Ugly, complicated, irreversible. But he swallowed it. "I can't tell you."
"Fuck!" Luca barked, dragging both hands through his hair as he turned away, pacing once more. He stopped abruptly, turning back to Marco. "I have one more question."
Marco lifted his gaze.
"How will Veronica feel about this?"
There it was. The real center of Luca's world.
Marco considered it for a second—not because he didn't know the answer, but because he was calculating the version of the truth Luca could tolerate. "She may be pissed for a minute," he said finally.
