Never Letting Go

Chapter 10

If it's possible to feel even more hungover after a shower, I feel just that. The smell of cooked food in the air from the kitchen is turning my stomach. The mere sight of it enough to make me sick without smelling it. Luca has clearly made himself something to eat with what food I have left from last weeks' shop, which is barley nothing.

I pass the kitchen swiftly, trying to not breathe in the food smells that are stronger now I'm near the cause of them.

The television is turned on, volume down low, and Luca is casually lounging on the furthest away couch with his laptop on his lap. I don't remember seeing a laptop bag lying about but spot a garment bag draped over the back of the nearby chair.

Since when was there a garment bag on that chair? It wasn't there before I went in for a shower. That I can remember, that is. I didn't hear the door going but seeing as I was more interested in keeping myself awake than anything that was going on in the rest of my house, I can easily see how I could have missed a knock at the door.

I sit near Luca, curling up at the one side of the couch and pulling at the sleeve of my deep red hoodie so it covers my hand. I fuss with the bottom of black jogger bottoms so my socks cover them.

"You look fine," Luca mutters.

I look at him as soon as he speaks but he's not looking at me. I frown. "Stop being creepy."

"You're hungover," he starts, "so you're allowed to look like you don't give a damn about how you look."

"How do you do that? How do you know what I'm doing without even looking at me?"

"It's a skill." He looks at me briefly before looking back at the laptop screen. "Plus, I know you."

"Don't you ever stop working?" I get comfier on the couch and wait for his reply.

"When you're a CEO, work never stops." His eyes move hastily over the screen before him then types away on the keyboard. "I'm actually waiting for Carlo to bring me an important document to sign. I should have signed it yesterday before landing in Barcelona but forgot."

"Tut tut, Mr. Madden. Someone's slacking in work."

I'm teasing him and he smiles. He doesn't respond verbally but the response was said with his smile. I don't know how he normally works but seeing as he forgot to sign something, it can only mean that he is slacking but will be able to pick up the pace.

"I hope you don't mind Carlo stopping by soon."

"I guess it's fine, seeing as he was here earlier to drop off a garment bag and your laptop."

He shakes his head. "He wasn't. I stayed on your couch last night to keep an eye on you. Trent stopped by early this morning with fresh clothes and my laptop. My suit from last night is in that bag."

Why am I even surprised? He could do a million things normal people do and I would still find it surprising. The fact he had someone bring by a change of clothes and his laptop while I was dead to the world isn't surprising now he has all this power.

It was sweet of him to stay here, though, to ensure I was alright. I dread to think what I was like when I got home. It's a scary thought and I don't want to know. I know what kind of drunk I am and it changes between the two: happy drunk or sad drunk. Both of which can cross paths on the same night depending on who I'm with and what I'm drinking.

But as for right now, I don't want to comprehend drinking alcohol for a good few weeks.

My body needs time to recover.