Chapter 8: The Escape Fantasy

The car skidded to a stop in front of a crumbling roadside bar—**The Dusty Cactus.** A neon sign flickers weakly.  

Luca stopped the engine. "My dad’s old drinking spot."

Inside, the air smelled like beer and regret. Three grizzled locals glanced up, then did double-takes.  

The waiter snorted. “Well, shit. Hollywood’s here."

Luca slid onto a stool.” Do you have Whiskey? Keep ‘em coming."  

Daniel sat beside him. "Start talking."

Luca downed the first shot. "There was someone else at that Harvard interview. Jordan’s nephew."

Daniel froze. "What?"

“The kid was a legacy. They picked him over me." Luca’s smile was bitter. “The following week, Jordan showed up at my door. He said he could fix my life."

The pieces clicked. "He’s been controlling you since you were nineteen?"

Luca didn’t answer. His phone buzzed—Jordan, for the twelfth time.

Daniel’s buzzed too.  

UNKNOWN NUMBER:Now you see. The interview wasn’t the end.  

UNKNOWN NUMBER: It was the beginning.  

Luca looked at Daniel, his eyes haunted. "Someone knows about the Interview too”.

The waiter slid another shot across the bar. Luca grabbed it—just as the TV above them switched to breaking news.

UPDATE: LEAKED EMAILS SUGGEST LUCA MORETTI PAID OFF CLASSMATES TO COVER UP ALLEGED FIGHTS AND HIS EXPULSION FROM SCHOOL.

Luca’s glass hit the floor.  

Fuck," Daniel whispered.  

The hunt for this anonymous man has just begun.

 “ I will find this stupid blogger, and I will slice a knife in his throat”. Luca retorted furiously.

Luca, drowned in whiskey by nightfall, drives into the Desert Highway; the charger’s headlights cut through the blackness, the only illumination for miles. The radio played static—Luca had ripped the aux cord out an hour ago.  

Daniel’s fingers dug into the leather seat. “So let me get this straight. Jordan’s nephew stole your Harvard spot, and then Jordan conveniently showed up to save your career?”

Luca’s grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles bone-white. “It wasn’t that simple.”  

“Then explain it.”Daniel’s voice was razor-sharp. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve been Jordan’s puppet for years, and now someone’s pulling your strings.”

Luca slammed the brakes. The car skidded onto the shoulder, kicking up dust.  

“You want the truth?”Luca’s chest heaved. “Fine. Charlie set up the interview as a favour—but Jordan’s nephew was already in. They made jest of me. Told me I was charming but unrefined. His voice cracked. “And then Charlie fucking apologized to them for wasting their time.”

Daniel stared. The raw hurt in Luca’s eyes was worse than any headline.  

“So you walked away,” Daniel said slowly.  

“I *ran*.” Luca’s laugh was hollow. “Straight into Jordan’s arms. He promised me Hollywood would beg for me. And it did.”

A beat. The desert wind howled outside.  

Daniel exhaled. “And Charlie?”

Luca’s jaw tightened. “Married his appropriate Ivy League girlfriend six months later.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.  

Then—  

Luca moved.  

One hand fisted in Daniel’s shirt, yanking him across the console. The kiss was violent—all teeth and desperation, Luca’s other hand tangling in Daniel’s hair to keep him close.  

Daniel gasped against his mouth. This wasn’t the polished Hollywood prince. This was the real Luca—the one with calloused hands, a bruised ego, and anger that tasted like whiskey.  

Luca pulled back just enough to growl, “This is who I am. Not the shit Jordan sells. Not the crap the blogs print. “This is Luca Moretti’s true nature”.  

Daniel’s pulse roared in his ears. “Prove it.”

Luca’s breath hitched. “What?”

“One week.”Daniel’s thumb brushed Luca’s split lip. “No PR. No lies. Just you”.

Luca searched his face. “Why?”

“Because I’m tired of writing fiction.”

A slow smirk curled Luca’s mouth. “Deal.”

He kissed Daniel again—softer this time—before shoving the car back into gear.  

At the Hotel’s Parking lot, The neon vacancy sign flickered like a dying pulse. Luca tossed the keys to Daniel.  

“You’re driving tomorrow.”  

Daniel caught them. “Where?”

“Wherever the fuck we want.”Luca shouldered his duffel. “Rule #1 of our deal: no schedules.”

Daniel followed him inside, hyper-aware of the heat still lingering on his lips.  

The room was straight out of a noir film—stained carpet, a rattling AC unit, and one queen bed.

Luca flopped onto it without hesitation. “I asked them to fix it, hope you love the new look.”

Daniel arched his brow. “You’re wasting your money, we would be leaving by daybreak tomorrow.”

“What?”Luca’s grin was all a challenge. “Come over to the bed Reyes?”  

Daniel dumped his bag on the right side. “ As long as you won't snore tonight, Absolutely.”

Luca laughed—really laughed—for the first time since Daniel had met him. The sound was warm.

His phone buzzed. **Jordan, again.**  

Luca silenced it without looking.  

Daniel’s buzzed too.  

 UNKNOWN NUMBER: Smart move. But remember—I own this story.  

Luca saw the text. His smirk faded. “We’ll find them.”  

Daniel believed him.  

Luca pulls off his clothes to have his shower, dressed in a towel robe; He turns to Daniel, stripping the rope off his body.

“Care to join me, Reyes.”

Daniel’s eyes popped out, his jaws dropped to the ground

“ Sire”.