Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Wrong Kind Of Right: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Reid leaned back, running a hand through his hair.He’d made a mistake.But mistakes could be corrected.If Asher thought he could find peace with someone like Luca Virelli, a spoiled billionaire prince whose whole world was curated and safe, he was wrong.Asher didn’t belong in a cage.He belonged on the edge of something. With someone who could bleed with him.And Reid had been there when it counted.He’d seen Asher crack.Seen him laugh with his mouth full of sand and pain.Seen him cry after they lost three men to a bad call.He’d held that man’s secrets and had shared his own. That mattered more than one mistake. More than a goodbye.He wasn’t here to beg.He was here to reclaim what he lost.Reid pulled out his phone and scrolled through old texts.None from Asher.Not in years.But his contact was still saved.“Ash with the heart emoji”The heart stung.He tapped the screen.Then paused.He would wait.Let the seed he’d planted today take root. Let Asher toss and turn tonight,

Dressed like he’d just stepped off a recruiting poster. Civilian now, but still holding himself like a soldier. Buttoned up. Clean shaven. With those same calculating eyes that once looked at Asher like he was a god, then later, like he was a mistake.“Hey,” Reid said.Asher didn’t move. “What are you doing here?”“I was just around here,” Reid replied. “Figured we could catch up. You didn’t answer my text.”Luca, standing quietly behind Asher now, studied the man on the other side of the door. Tall. Confident. A glint of something unreadable behind his smile.“I have company,” Asher said.“I see that.”Reid’s eyes drifted to Luca and lingered.“I won’t take long,” he added. “Just something I thought you should have.”He held up a small object wrapped in black cloth.A box?A frame?Asher didn’t reach for it. His jaw locked.Luca glanced between them. The tension was sharp, sudden. Alive.“I should go,” he said quietly, brushing his fingers down Asher’s arm.Asher didn’t stop him.Luc

Luca stood alone on the sidewalk, staring up at the building. His heart pounded. This was insane. It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t strategic.But it was real.He took the elevator up, barely breathing. The ding at Asher’s floor sounded louder than it should have, like it echoed down into something deeper than the hallway.He stood in front of the door for a beat too long.Then he knocked.No answer.He knocked again, softer this time. “Ash?”The door opened a crack.Asher stood there, barefoot, black tee, sweats slung low on his hips, damp hair like he’d just showered. His eyes were unreadable.Luca’s throat dried. “Hey.”Asher stared at him. “Didn’t expect to see you back this soon.”“I didn’t expect to come,” Luca said honestly. “But I couldn’t stay away.”Asher leaned on the doorframe. “You sure that’s not the wine talking?”“No,” Luca said. “It’s not the wine. It’s just… you.”Then Asher stepped back. “Come in.”Luca did, the door clicking shut behind him. The apartment smelled like

Luca didn’t officially move in.Not with boxes or declarations or a carefully worded announcement.It just happened.A spare shirt draped over the back of Asher’s couch turned into a drawer full of silk ties.A travel bag left overnight morphed into Luca’s cologne lining up next to Asher’s aftershave. By the end of the week, Luca’s tailored suits were hanging next to Asher’s black hoodies and Henleys like they belonged there.And Luca started calling Asher’s apartment home without realizing it.Each morning was a quiet ballet of movement, Luca dressing in crisp silence while Asher leaned against the doorframe with a coffee in hand, watching him with barely restrained fondness.“I feel like I’m corrupting you,” Asher said one morning as Luca buttoned a navy shirt, the light glinting off his cufflinks.Luca smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”“Depends on what I get in return.”Luca stepped close, sliding a hand around Asher’s neck, lips brushing the stubble just above his jaw

Asher stood over his open suitcase like it had personally offended him.There were two neat stacks of folded clothes on the bed, one practical (black tees, jeans, a leather jacket), the other… less so. Thin cotton shirts that clung in all the right places. Fitted trousers Luca liked on him. A black button down that always earned a second glance.He shouldn’t be thinking like this.He shouldn’t be packing with this kind of intent in his chest, this slow burning ache in his gut. But here he was, folding a silk shirt he hadn’t worn in years and wondering how fast Luca could get it off him.“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair.This wasn’t a vacation.It was barely even a trip. Luca had said a week, and Asher hadn’t even asked what for. Didn’t care. All he’d needed was that stupid, breathless string of texts, you, naked on the bed, and suddenly his spine was melting like he was nineteen again and getting touched for the first time in the dark.He stuffed