Chapter 5 Valentino #3
"Yes. That version of me had nothing to lose. Would have burned everything down to get what he wanted." His voice was quiet. "The persona is controlled. Calculated. But that younger version? He was chaos barely contained."
"What changed?"
"Sandro. The organization. Learning that control is more effective than violence." He paused. "And therapy, though don't tell the others I said that."
I twisted to look at him. "You're in therapy?"
"Was. For years. Sandro insisted after I nearly beat someone to death for looking at me wrong." He met my eyes. "I have anger issues. Or had. I've learned to manage them. But they're still there."
The honesty was startling. The persona would never admit to something that could be seen as weakness. But Luca was just... telling me. Trusting me with the truth.
"Thank you for telling me that."
"If we're doing this, you should know. I'm not just charming and controlled. I have darkness in me. Violence. Anger that doesn't always have an appropriate outlet." His hands moved to my shoulders. "But I would never hurt you. That's important to me that you know that."
"I know." And surprisingly, I did. For all the coercion, all the threats, Luca had never been physically violent with me. Had been rough sexually but only in ways I'd wanted. "I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be. A little." But he smiled when he said it. "Keeps me honest."
We lapsed back into comfortable silence. Outside, the city continued its endless motion. Inside, we created a small bubble of peace. Of domesticity. Of something that felt dangerously close to happiness.
My phone buzzed in my jeans pocket. I pulled it out and saw an email notification.
From: Alex Park
Subject: Following up
I opened it reluctantly.
Val - Haven't heard from you since coffee. You seemed really off. Just checking in. Let me know you're okay? - Alex
Guilt twisted in my stomach. Alex was worried because I'd been distant. Because I'd seen that message from Reeves on his phone and realized my friend was informing on me.
"Everything okay?" Luca asked.
"My friend Alex. The one from journalism school. He's checking in."
"The one who's talking to Reeves."
I'd told him about that too, during breakfast. About seeing the message on Alex's phone.
"Yeah. He probably doesn't know what Reeves is really after. Probably just thinks he's helping with a legitimate investigation." But even as I said it, I wasn't sure I believed it.
"Do you want to respond?"
"I don't know what to say. How do you talk to a friend who's unknowingly helping the FBI investigate you?"
"Carefully." Luca's hand rubbed soothing circles on my back. "But Valentino? You might need to distance yourself from him. If he's in contact with Reeves, anything you tell him could end up in FBI reports."
"I know." The loss of that friendship hurt. Alex and I had been close for years. But Luca was right—I couldn't trust him anymore. "I'll keep it vague. Tell him I'm fine but busy."
I typed out a quick response: All good, just swamped with work. Catch up soon.
Vague. Non-committal. Maintaining the friendship while creating distance.
"This is my life now," I said quietly. "Lying to friends. Worrying about federal investigations. Dating someone who—" I stopped.
"Who what?"
"Someone who terrifies me and comforts me in equal measure." I turned to look at him. "Someone I should probably run from but can't seem to leave."
"You can leave. Any time. The door's not locked." But his arms tightened around me like he was afraid I'd actually go.
"I know. That's what makes this different." I settled back against his chest. "I'm choosing this. Choosing you. Even though it's probably the stupidest decision I've ever made."
"Probably." He kissed the top of my head. "But I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you don't regret it."
We stayed like that for another hour, just holding each other while music played and the city moved far below. Eventually I had to go—had actual work to do, an apartment to check on, a life that still existed outside of Luca's penthouse.
But leaving felt harder than it should have.
At the elevator, Luca pulled me into one more kiss. Deep and thorough and possessive.
"When can I see you again?" he asked.
"Tomorrow?"
"Too long."
I laughed. "You're clingy."
"Only with you." He didn't look embarrassed by the admission. "Have dinner with me tomorrow. Not here. Out. Let me take you somewhere nice."
"Like a date?"
"Exactly like a date. A real one." His hands cupped my face. "I want to do this properly. Court you. Show you off. Treat you like you deserve to be treated."
My heart did something complicated in my chest. "Okay. Tomorrow. Dinner."
"I'll text you the details." One more kiss. "Be safe going home. Text me when you get there."
"You're definitely clingy."
"Get used to it." But he was smiling.
I stepped into the elevator and the doors closed between us. Watched him through the glass until I descended out of sight.
The ride down felt like returning to reality after living in a dream. By the time I emerged onto the street, the weight of everything had settled back onto my shoulders.
I was dating a criminal. The FBI was investigating me. My best friend was informing on me. And I was in way over my head.
But for the first time in months, I also felt something that might have been happiness.
I pulled out my phone and texted Luca: Made it to the street. Heading home. Thank you for this morning.
His response came immediately: Thank you for staying. See you tomorrow. Can't wait.
I smiled despite everything and headed for the subway.
Whatever this was between us—complicated and messy and probably doomed—I was choosing it. Choosing him. Choosing to see where this impossible thing could go.