Chapter 8 Luca
A WEEK HAD passed since the FBI meeting and I was still waking up every morning convinced Reeves was going to show up with handcuffs.
It hadn't happened yet. But the waiting was its own kind of torture.
I rolled over and found Valentino already awake, lying on his back staring at the ceiling. Morning light filtered through the windows, casting patterns across his face. He looked tired. We both were.
"Can't sleep?" I asked quietly.
"Thinking." He turned his head to look at me. "How long do you think before Reeves makes his next move?"
"I don't know. Could be days. Could be weeks." I reached for his hand. "We just have to be ready."
"I am ready. I'm just tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"I know." I pulled him closer. "Come here."
He shifted to rest his head on my chest, his arm draped across my waist. We lay there in comfortable silence, both processing the stress that had become our new normal.
Over the past week, Valentino had essentially moved in.
Not officially—most of his stuff was still in Brooklyn—but he'd been here every night since the FBI meeting.
His clothes hung in my closet. His toiletries cluttered my bathroom counter.
His research papers were spread across my dining table.
His coffee mug had a permanent spot next to mine.
The domesticity of it should have terrified me. The persona didn't do domestic. Didn't let people into his space, into his routine, into his life this completely.
But with Valentino, I wanted it. Craved it, even. Waking up next to him every morning. Making coffee together. The small intimacies that came from sharing space with someone you loved.
"What time is your meeting today?" Valentino asked.
"Eleven. Partners meeting about the business restructuring." I ran my fingers through his hair. "What about you?"
"Working on edits for the school board piece. Editor wants it by end of week."
"How's it looking?"
"Good. Really good, actually." He lifted his head to look at me. "It's solid journalism. Nothing to do with you or the Vitales. Just my work."
The pride in his voice made my chest tight. "I'm glad. You needed that."
"I did. Need to prove—to myself more than anyone—that I'm still a real journalist." He kissed my chest. "That I didn't completely compromise my integrity."
"You didn't. You never did."
"I accepted information from you. Published stories that served your interests."
"Stories that were also true. That exposed real corruption." I caught his chin, made him look at me. "You maintained your standards even when I was trying to control you. That matters."
"Does it? Or am I just trying to justify what I did?"
"Both, probably. But that doesn't make it less true." I kissed him softly. "You're a good journalist, Valentino. This school board investigation proves that. You don't need me or my information to do excellent work."
He studied my face for a long moment. "Thank you for saying that."
"I mean it. Every word."
We stayed in bed longer than we should have, neither wanting to start the day and face the stress waiting beyond these walls. Eventually necessity won and we got up, moving through our morning routine with the ease of people who'd been doing this much longer than a week.
Valentino made coffee while I dealt with emails. I made eggs while he read the news. We ate breakfast at the kitchen island, legs tangled together, both stealing glances at each other like teenagers.
"I'm going to be late tonight," I said, loading dishes into the dishwasher. "The meeting will probably run long. Stefan has a whole presentation on the property acquisitions."
"I'll probably be working late too. These edits are taking forever." He finished his coffee. "Should I wait for you for dinner?"
The casual domesticity of the question made me smile. "If you want. Or eat without me. I'll text you when I'm done."
"Okay." He moved to stand behind me, arms wrapping around my waist. "Luca?"
"Yeah?"
"This is nice. This... us. Living together. Even with the FBI thing hanging over us."
"It is." I turned in his arms. "I like having you here."
"Good. Because I like being here." He kissed me. "Even though your penthouse is ridiculously fancy and makes me feel like I'm living in a magazine spread."
"You'll get used to it."
"Will I? Or will I always feel a little bit like I'm playing house in someone else's life?"
The vulnerability in his voice made me hold him tighter. "This is your life too now. If you want it to be."
"I do want it. I'm just still adjusting to the fact that my boyfriend is a wealthy former mob boss with a penthouse view and expensive taste in everything."
"Former mob boss?"
"Aren't you? Going legitimate?"
"We're working on it. But technically I'm still a current mob boss who's transitioning to legitimate businessman." I grinned. "Does that make a difference?"
"Not really. I fell for you knowing exactly what you were." He pulled back. "I should go. Need to get some work done before I lose motivation."
"Stay. Work here."
"I've been here every night for a week. I should probably go back to my apartment at some point. Make sure it hasn't been robbed."
"Or just stay. Bring your stuff here. Make this official."
The words came out before I could stop them. Valentino's eyes went wide.
"Luca—"
"Too much too fast. I know. Forget I said anything." I forced myself to step back, give him space. "Go work. I'll see you tonight."
He stared at me for a long moment. "We'll talk about it. Later. Okay?"
"Okay."
He gathered his laptop and notes, kissed me goodbye, and left. I stood in my too-empty penthouse and wondered if I'd just pushed too hard again.
***
The partners meeting started at eleven sharp in a conference room in one of the legitimate holdings.
I arrived to find Sandro, Matteo, and Elio already seated, coffees in hand, looking over documents Stefan and Julian had prepared. The two of them stood at the front of the room with a presentation ready to go.
"Luca." Sandro gestured to the empty chair. "You're almost late. That's unlike you."
"Got held up." I poured myself coffee and sat. "What are we looking at?"
"Progress." Stefan clicked to the first slide. "Significant progress, actually."
For the next hour, Stefan and Julian walked us through the restructuring. Property acquisitions were ahead of schedule. Shell companies were being dissolved or legitimized. Money was being moved into legal investments. Everything was proceeding faster than expected.
"We can be fully legitimate within six months," Julian said, pulling up financial projections. "Maybe less if we accelerate the timeline."
"That's good news," Elio said. "Especially with the FBI breathing down our necks."
"It also leaves us vulnerable during the transition," Matteo pointed out. "Less flexibility. Less protection."
"But cleaner. Defensible." Stefan flipped to the next slide. "Once we're legitimate, there's nothing for them to find."
"Except the past," I said quietly. "Our history doesn't disappear just because we go legal."
"No. But it becomes harder to prosecute if current operations are clean." Stefan looked at me. "This is the right move, Luca. You know it is."
I did know. Had known for months. Going legitimate was the smart play. The only sustainable play. But it also meant giving up the safety nets and grey-area operations that had protected us for years.
"I agree," I said. "Let's accelerate the timeline. Get us clean as fast as possible."
The meeting continued for another hour, discussing logistics and timelines and contingencies. But my mind kept drifting to Valentino. To the fact that he was probably at his apartment right now, working on journalism that had nothing to do with me, proving his independence.
To the fact that I'd asked him to move in—again—and he'd deflected. Again.
"Luca."
I looked up to find everyone staring at me. The meeting had apparently ended while I was lost in thought.
"Sorry. What?"
Sandro raised an eyebrow. "I asked if you had anything else to add. But clearly your head is somewhere else."
"I'm fine."
"You're distracted," Matteo said. "Have been all meeting. Where's your head?"
"Nowhere. Just thinking."
"About Valentino," Elio guessed. "About the FBI meeting. About the fact that Reeves is building a case."
"All of the above." I stood. "But I'm handling it."
"Are you?" Sandro leaned back in his chair. "Because you've been different this past week. Distracted. Worried. That's not like you."
"I have a journalist I'm in love with who's being threatened by a federal agent. Forgive me for being concerned."
The admission hung in the air. I'd said the words to Valentino. But this was the first time I'd admitted it out loud to my partners.
Matteo's eyebrows went up. "You're in love with him."
"Yes. Obviously." I ran a hand through my hair. "Is that a problem?"
"No. It's just—" Matteo exchanged glances with the others. "We've never seen you like this. Luca Romano doesn't fall in love. Doesn't let people get close. But with Valentino, you're completely gone."
"I'm aware."
"That's good," Sandro said. "It's what we all went through. Falling for someone who sees past the performance. It changes you."
"Is that what this is? Being changed?"
"Being better," Elio corrected. "Emilio made Sandro better. Stefan made Matteo better. Julian made me better. And from what we've seen, Valentino is making you better too."
"He is." I couldn't deny it. "But I'm terrified of losing him. Of the FBI taking him from me. Of Reeves building a case that destroys both of us."
"Then fight for him." Sandro's voice was firm. "We've all fought for our partners. This is no different. You fight, you protect, you hold on to what matters."
"What if fighting isn't enough?"