Chapter 6 Luca #2
Our food arrived and we ate for a while in comfortable silence. The osso buco was as good as I'd promised. Valentino had ordered the carbonara and looked like he was having a religious experience with every bite.
"Okay, this is really good," he admitted.
"Told you."
"Doesn't mean I'm not still judging you for bringing me somewhere this expensive."
"Judge away. As long as you're here."
We fell into easier conversation. He told me about his independent journalism work, the local corruption story he was developing. I told him about the property acquisitions Stefan and Julian were handling, how close we were to being fully legitimate.
"Does that scare you?" Valentino asked. "Going fully legal?"
"Yes and no. It's the smart move. Protection from federal prosecution, cleaner operations, sustainable income. But also—" I paused. "It means giving up the safety net. The backup plans. The grey area operations that kept us protected."
"You'll be vulnerable."
"We'll be vulnerable. But we'll also be clean. And that matters now in ways it didn't before."
"Because of me."
"Partly. But also because Sandro's right—we can't live in grey areas forever. Eventually the FBI would have gotten us. Better to go legitimate on our terms than wait to be forced."
Valentino was quiet for a moment. Then: "Tell me about them. Your partners. How did you all end up building this together?"
The question surprised me. "You want to know the origin story?"
"I want to understand your family. The people who matter to you."
So I told him. About meeting Sandro when I was nineteen and feral with rage and desperation.
About how he'd seen potential instead of just a violent kid.
About Matteo as enforcement, Elio as strategy.
About how we'd built something together that was part business, part family, completely unbreakable.
"We've been through hell together," I said. "RICO trial, federal investigations, internal betrayals. But we survived because we trusted each other completely. Because we became brothers in every way that mattered."
"And their partners? The other three?"
"Emilio met Sandro during an earlier trial.
Sandro fell hard and fast—I'd never seen him like that. Completely gone for this lawyer who was defending him. They’re expecting a child soon.
Matteo and Stefan..." I smiled. "That's a complicated story.
Stefan was trying to gather intel. Things went sideways. Matteo ended up keeping him."
"Keeping him."
"Matteo's methods aren't subtle. But they love each other now. Got married last year." I took another sip of wine. "And Elio and Julian—Julian was running from an arranged marriage. Elio protected him. They fell for each other while trying to survive external threats."
"So everyone has a complicated beginning."
"Very." I met his eyes. "Does that help? Knowing we're not the only ones who started in darkness?"
"Yes. And no. Because they all got past it. Became real couples. Had weddings and lives and futures." He set down his fork. "Do you think we can have that?"
"I want to." The honesty came easier now. "I want this to be real. Want to build something with you that's more than coercion and complicated. Want you to meet my partners officially as someone who matters to me."
"They already know about me."
"They know I'm involved with a journalist I was supposed to be controlling. They don't know I'm falling in love with you."
The words hung between us. Bigger than I'd meant them to be. More honest than was safe.
Valentino stared at me. "You can't just say that."
"Why not? It's true." I leaned forward. "I'm falling in love with you, Valentino. Have been since you told me to fuck off. Maybe even before. And I know it's too soon and too fast and you probably don't feel the same yet but I wanted you to know."
His hand found mine across the table. "You're an idiot."
"What?"
"I'm falling in love with you too. Have been even though I didn't want to admit it. Even though it's probably the stupidest decision I've ever made." His grip tightened. "But I can't help it. I want this. Want you. Want to see if we can build something real."
Relief flooded through me so intensely I almost couldn't breathe. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He was smiling now. Genuine and warm and so beautiful it hurt to look at. "But Luca? If you hurt me—if this turns out to be another manipulation—I'm done. For real this time."
"It's not. I swear it's not." I turned his hand over, traced patterns on his palm. "I know I fucked up the beginning. Know I did this all wrong. But I'm trying to do it right now. Trying to be someone worthy of you."
"You already are."
We finished dinner talking about smaller things. Books we'd read, movies we loved, the mundane details that built intimacy. By the time we paid the check—I insisted, he protested, I won—the restaurant was mostly empty and the night had grown darker outside.
"Walk with me?" I asked.
"Where?"
"Back to my place. It's only a few blocks. We can walk along the river."
He studied my face for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Let's walk."
We stepped out into the October night and I made a decision. Reached for Valentino's hand and threaded our fingers together.
He looked down at our joined hands, then up at me. "We're holding hands in public."
"Is that okay?"
"Yeah." His smile was soft. "It's good."
We walked west toward the Hudson River, hands linked, existing in our own small world. Manhattan moved around us—other couples, tourists, locals—but I was only aware of Valentino beside me. The warmth of his hand in mine. The way he leaned slightly into me as we walked.
Small things. Intimate gestures. Building something real.
"Thank you for tonight," he said quietly. "For dinner. For being honest. For wanting me enough to do this properly."
"Thank you for giving me the chance. For not running when you had every reason to."
We reached the river path and walked north along the water. The view was beautiful—lights reflecting off the Hudson, the New Jersey shoreline twinkling across the water. Peaceful in a way the rest of Manhattan never was.
"I've never walked here at night," Valentino said. "Usually I'm too busy or too tired or too focused on work."
"We should do it more often. There's a bench up ahead with a perfect view. I come here sometimes when I need to think."
We found the bench and sat together, still holding hands, looking out at the water. Valentino leaned against me and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. Domestic and perfect and so far from where we'd started.
"Luca?" His voice was quiet.
"Yeah?"
"I mean it. About falling for you. This isn't just physical."
"I know. I feel it too." I kissed the top of his head. "Scared the hell out of me when I realized. I don't do feelings. Don't do vulnerability. But with you—I can't help it."
"Because I see through the performance?"
"Because you make me want to stop performing."
We sat there for a while longer, just existing together. Eventually the temperature dropped enough that Valentino shivered against me.
"Come on," I said. "Let's get you warm."
We walked the remaining blocks to my building, still holding hands, both quiet with anticipation. In the lobby, the security guard nodded at us. In the elevator, we stood close but not touching, both hyperaware of what was about to happen.
The doors opened directly into my penthouse and we stepped inside. I'd left lights on low, music playing softly. The space looked warm and welcoming instead of sterile.
Valentino moved to the windows, looking out at the view. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."
"You could. If you wanted to." I came to stand behind him, hands on his hips. "If you moved in."
He leaned back against me. "You're really stuck on that idea."
"I really am. But I'll wait. Give you time to decide."
"What if I never want to?"
"Then you never want to. I'll take whatever you're willing to give me."
He turned in my arms to face me. "What are we doing, Luca?"
"What do you mean?"
"This. Us. Where is this going?"
I cupped his face in my hands. "Wherever we want it to go. I know where I want it to go. But that's up to you too."
"Where do you want it to go?"
"Forward. Together. You and me building something real." I traced my thumb over his cheekbone. "I want mornings together and dinner dates and eventually—when we're ready—something permanent. But we don't have to figure it all out tonight."
"What do we have to figure out tonight?"
"Whether you're staying."
"I'm staying." No hesitation. "I want to stay."
"Good." I leaned in slowly, giving him time to pull away. "Because I really want to kiss you right now."
"Then kiss me."
I did.
The kiss started soft—gentle exploration, relearning the shape of his mouth. But it quickly deepened as his hands fisted in my jacket, pulling me closer. I walked him backward until his back hit the windows, caging him there with my body.
"Luca—" He broke away breathing hard. "What are we doing?"
"What do you want to do?"
"You." He pulled me back in. "I want you."
I kissed him harder, grinding against him until we were both hard and desperate. His hands moved to my shirt, working open buttons, pushing the fabric off my shoulders. I let him undress me, standing still while he explored with hands and mouth.
"Bedroom," I said when I couldn't take it anymore. "I want you in my bed. Properly this time."
"Is there an improper way?"
"There's a fast desperate way and a slow thorough way. Tonight I want slow."
I led him to the bedroom, both of us shedding clothes as we went. By the time we reached the bed we were down to boxer briefs and flushed skin. I pushed him down onto the mattress and climbed over him, taking my time.
"You're beautiful," I said, tracing my hands over his chest, his ribs, his hips. "Every time I see you like this, I'm struck by how beautiful you are."
"You don't have to—"
"I'm not performing. I'm being honest." I leaned down and kissed his chest, his stomach, following the trail of dark hair that disappeared into his waistband. "You're beautiful and you're mine and I'm going to spend tonight showing you exactly how much I want you."
I pulled off his boxer briefs and took him in my mouth, working him with lips and tongue until he was gasping and writhing beneath me. I loved this—loved watching him fall apart, loved the power of reducing him to incoherent need.
"Luca, please—I'm going to—"
I pulled off before he could come. "Not yet. I want you desperate for me."
"I'm already desperate. Please."
I stripped off my own underwear and moved up his body, kissing him deeply so he could taste himself on my tongue. His legs wrapped around my waist automatically, grinding against me, seeking friction.
"Tell me what you want," I ordered. "Specifically."
"You. Inside me. Now."
"So demanding." But I reached for lube and condoms, prepared him with fingers that weren't quite steady. He opened for me beautifully, taking two fingers and then three, his body accepting me like it was made for this.
When I finally pushed inside, we both groaned at the sensation. Perfect. He felt perfect.
I started slow despite every instinct screaming to take him hard and fast. Rolled my hips in deep steady thrusts that made him gasp. Watched his face the whole time, cataloging every expression, every sound, every sign of pleasure.
"More," he demanded. "Harder."
"Not yet. I want to savor this." I changed the angle slightly and he cried out. "Want to feel every inch of you. Want to make this last."
"You're killing me."
"Good." I leaned down and kissed him thoroughly. "I want you completely undone. Want you to remember this every time you close your eyes."
I kept the pace slow and deep, building him up gradually. His nails raked down my back, leaving marks I'd feel tomorrow. Perfect. I wanted his marks on me just like my marks were on him.
"Touch yourself," I commanded. "Show me how close you are."
His hand moved between us, wrapping around himself, stroking in time with my thrusts. I watched him chase the edge, getting closer with every movement.
"Luca—I'm—"
"Let go. Come for me."
He did, spilling over his hand with my name on his lips. The sight and feel of it pushed me over the edge right behind him. I buried myself deep and came hard, grinding against him through the aftershocks.
For a long moment we just stayed there. Connected. Both breathing hard. Both wrung out and satisfied.
I pulled out carefully and dealt with the condom, then came back to bed. Pulled Valentino against my chest and held him close.
"Stay," I said quietly. "Not just tonight. Stay with me."
"I'm not going anywhere." He pressed a kiss to my chest. "I'm exactly where I want to be."
We lay there in comfortable silence, both processing what had just happened. The physical intimacy had been incredible but it was more than that. We'd built something tonight. Chosen each other properly. Said things that mattered.
"Luca?" Valentino's voice was quiet.
"Yeah?"
"Earlier, when you said you were falling in love with me. Did you mean it?"
"Every word." I held him tighter. "I'm falling in love with you, Valentino Russo. Have been for a while. Just finally admitted it tonight."
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "I'm falling in love with you too. Even though it scares me. Even though we barely know each other. I'm falling and I can't stop."
Relief and joy flooded through me in equal measure. "You don't have to stop. We can fall together."
"What if we fuck this up?"
"Then we fuck it up together. But I don't think we will." I kissed the top of his head. "I think we're building something real. Something that can survive the complicated beginning and become something beautiful."
"You're a romantic underneath."
"Only with you. Don't tell anyone. It would ruin my reputation."
He laughed against my chest and I felt it echo through me. This. This was what I wanted. This easy intimacy. This comfort. This feeling of rightness that came from being with someone who saw you completely and chose you anyway.
"Thank you for tonight," Valentino said. "For the date. For being honest. For letting me in."
"Thank you for giving me the chance. For staying. For falling with me."
We drifted toward sleep tangled together, both content in ways we hadn't been before. Tomorrow we'd deal with the FBI and the complications and all the external threats. Tonight we just had this—each other, chosen and real and falling in love.