Page 18 of The Chemist

Nodding, Matteo placed his hand on Diesel’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you.”

Two weeks went by with Matteo barely leaving Diesel’s side. Every fucking place he went, the overbearing Italian magically appeared. For someone whose parents died well before their time, Matteo had somehow mastered that Nonna ability to be everywhere and nowhere both at the same time.

Take now as an example: Diesel had come into the gym to do a few weights and burn off some of that pent-up frustration, and low and behold, Matteo was sitting in the corner reading a goddamn magazine!

“Don’t you have an old-man dick to take care of?” Diesel asked, racking up the weights on the bench press machine he was about to use.

“Watch your language,” the man responded, eyes never leaving the magazine.

Diesel smirked. “No. Seriously. Where is Daddy A? I haven’t seen Ares in a few days. You guys fighting?” Perhaps that was the reason for Matteo’s clingy behavior. He doubted he was that lucky.

“He’s doing some business in the States.”

Lying down on the bench, Diesel took a breath before lifting the bar into the air. Whoever said that exercise was good for people with addictions was a lying piece of shit.

His body hurt, and he was sweating like a pig.

It’s your body detoxing, fuckhead.

After the eighth rep, Diesel sat up and turned to face his secret stalker.

In addition to the twenty-four seven supervision and invisible shock collar Matteo had no doubt placed around his neck, Matteo wouldn’t allow Diesel to work the floor while he was recovering.

Matteo claimed that no one fantasized about the guy fromTales from the Crypt. Okay, that was an overexaggeration. Besides some dehydration and dark circles under his eyes, he still looked hot as fuck. At least that’s what he told himself in the mirror each morning. Even Bruno agreed. Mind you, it was in the smiling demon’s nature to lie his ass off. But still, Matteo was being unreasonable. And to be honest, Diesel was becoming bored as shit.

“How long before I can hit the stage again?” Diesel asked, not quite sure if he was going to get a response. Matteo could be a stubborn ass when he wanted to.

“When you stop smelling like weed.”

Like weed?That was probably the least harmful drug he had been ingesting since he was fourteen. Weed was like water; it barely had any effect on him.

“But smelling like weed is part of my charm. It adds to that bad-boy persona so many guys here want. Do you really want to deprive your guests of my studly man-scent?”

Matteo glanced at him from over the top of the magazine.

“You’re not that manly.”

Diesel slid back under the pole and began benching another few reps. Then he sat back up and flexed his arms.

“You really gonna deprive all those thirsty men of these sexy-ass arms?” He knew he was starting to win over his jailer’s bad mood.

The left side of Matteo’s lip turned upward in a barely there hint of amusement.

“When are you going to start therapy?”

Damn.He hoped that Matteo had perhaps forgotten about his little promise made, oh, so many eons ago. It was probably coming up to just over a week and a bit at this point now.

“When I’m ready mentally,” Diesel answered, letting out what he hoped was a desperate sigh.

He was going to have to hold up his end of the bargain. Matteo deserved that. But right now, he was soooo fuckin’ bored! Then a thought came to him.

“Hey! How about, while I’m recovering, I go help Chase on his next assignment. I heard him say he is leaving for London tomorrow. A change of scenery would be good for me.”

Matteo placed the magazine down and crossed his leg over his knee. He looked like he was posing for the cover of some fancy-ass fashion cover. He swore Matteo had his own specialized lighting following him around. Perhaps he had made a deal with the devil to always look young and beautiful.Whatever happened to Dorian Gray? Did he become a vampire in the end or something like that?

It was in that moment that Matteo’s face contorted into what could only be described as an “evil-villain smirk.” Diesel swore that the lights dimmed, and the air around them suddenly became stale. Something was wrong.

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