Chapter 8 Luca #3
"Something real. Something good. Something worth fighting for."
The words hit deep. "I love you."
"I love you too." He looked around the restaurant, at the expensive décor and the other wealthy diners. "Even though you insist on taking me to places like this where I feel completely out of my element."
"You'll get used to it."
"Will I? Or will I always be the Brooklyn journalist who's in over his head with the fancy mob boss?"
"Former mob boss. Transitioning to legitimate businessman, remember?"
"Right. How could I forget?" But he was smiling. "Take me home, Luca. I want to celebrate properly."
"We haven't had coffee yet."
"I don't want coffee. I want you." His voice dropped lower. "Take me home and show me how proud you are."
Heat coiled in my stomach. I signaled for the check immediately.
We made it back to the penthouse—our penthouse now—in record time.
The second the elevator doors closed behind us, Valentino was on me. Kissing me hard, hands in my hair, pressing me against the wall.
"Bed," I managed between kisses. "Let me take you to bed properly."
"Okay."
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 underwear and flushed skin.
"I'm so proud of you," I said, pushing him down onto the mattress. "Your article. Your award. All of it."
"Show me." His eyes were dark with want. "Show me how proud you are."
I did.
I worshipped every inch of his skin, taking my time, making him gasp and writhe beneath me. Told him in detail exactly what I loved about him—his intelligence, his integrity, his stubborn refusal to compromise his principles.
"You're brilliant," I murmured against his throat. "Talented. Strong. Everything I never knew I needed."
"Luca—"
"And you're mine." I bit down on his shoulder, marking him. "Mine in ways that have nothing to do with coercion or control. You chose this. Chose me. Chose us."
"I did choose you." His hands fisted in my hair. "I choose you every day."
I made love to him slowly, thoroughly, showing him without words how much he meant to me. How proud I was. How grateful I felt that he'd given me a chance to make this right.
After, we lay tangled together, both catching our breath.
"That was quite a celebration," Valentino said, sounding dazed.
"You deserved it."
"I deserve you being possessive and marking me up?"
"You deserve to know how much I love you. How proud I am. How much it means that you're here with me despite everything." I pulled him closer. "You won that award on your own. Proved your worth without me. That matters more than you know."
"It matters to me too." He pressed a kiss to my chest. "Thank you for understanding why I needed it."
"Always."
We fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, both content in ways we hadn't been a week ago. The FBI threat still hung over us. Reeves was still building his case. The danger hadn't disappeared.
But we'd built something real anyway. Something worth protecting.
The next morning, I woke to find Valentino already up, sitting at the dining table with his laptop and coffee, completely absorbed in work.
His books were on my shelves. His clothes were in my closet. His coffee mug sat next to mine in the kitchen.
He'd moved in. Made this space ours. Chosen to build a life with me despite the FBI, despite our complicated beginning, despite every reason to run.
I watched him work for a minute, this brilliant journalist who'd somehow chosen me, and felt gratitude so intense it was almost painful.
"Morning," I said, moving to pour myself coffee.
He looked up and smiled. "Morning. I was trying not to wake you."
"You didn't. I just woke up." I sat across from him. "Working already?"
"Following up on some sources. And—" He hesitated. "Starting to think about the next investigation."
"Independent of me again?"
"Always independent of you now. I need to keep proving I can do real work." He closed his laptop. "But also, I wanted to talk to you about something."
The seriousness in his tone made me alert. "Okay."
"Stefan and Julian mentioned that they could use media expertise for the legitimate business expansion. PR strategy, communications, that kind of thing."
"They did."
"I've been thinking about it. About maybe taking that on. Part time, alongside my journalism." He met my eyes. "It would be legitimate work. Helping with the transition to legal operations. Using my skills in a different way."
"You want to work for the organization?"
"I want to help make sure the transition succeeds. Want to use my skills to build something good." He leaned forward. "But only if you're okay with it. I don't want it to seem like I'm compromising my journalism again."
"You wouldn't be. This is different. Legitimate consulting work for a business going legal." I considered it. "You'd be good at it. And Stefan and Julian would value your expertise."
"So you think I should do it?"
"I think you should do whatever feels right to you. But yes, I think it could be good. For you and for us." I reached for his hand. "You're part of this now. Part of my life, my family, my world. Working with us on legitimate projects just makes sense."
"Okay." He squeezed my hand. "Then I'll talk to them. See what they need."
"They'll be thrilled."
We finished our coffee and started our day.
Valentino disappeared into the office to work while I dealt with Inferno business.
The domesticity of it felt surreal—both of us working in our shared space, occasionally emerging for more coffee or a quick kiss, living together like we'd been doing this for years instead of days.
Around noon, my phone rang. Sandro.
"We have a problem," he said without preamble. "Reeves is making moves. One of our contacts in the FBI says he's preparing to bring charges. Soon."
My blood went cold. "Against who?"
"All of us. But he's starting with you and Valentino. Building a conspiracy case around your relationship."
"Fuck."
"Emilio is on it. He's meeting with everyone in an hour. You need to be there." Sandro's voice was grim. "And Luca? Bring Valentino. He needs to hear this too."
"I will."
I hung up and went to find Valentino. He was at the desk in the office, surrounded by research materials, completely absorbed in work.
"We need to go," I said.
He looked up. "What happened?"
"Reeves is moving forward. Preparing charges." I grabbed my jacket. "Emilio wants to meet with us. All of us. Now."
The fear that flashed across Valentino's face mirrored my own. But he stood, closed his laptop, and reached for his coat.
"Okay. Let's go."
We drove to Sandro's estate in tense silence, both processing what this meant. The waiting was over. Reeves was making his move. And whatever happened next would determine everything.
When we arrived, everyone was already there, Emilio looking grim as he laid out documents on the conference table.
"Agent Reeves is preparing to bring charges against Luca and Valentino," Emilio said without preamble. "Conspiracy, obstruction, possibly RICO charges for Luca. He's building a case that Luca coerced Valentino into compliance and that Valentino knowingly protected criminal activity."
"Can he prove it?" Matteo asked.
"He has surveillance photos. He has the timing of Valentino's articles. He has witnesses who'll testify to the relationship." Emilio looked at Valentino. "He's going to paint you as either a victim or an accomplice. Either way, you're in trouble."
"What do we do?" Valentino's voice was steady despite the fear I knew he felt.
"We fight." Emilio spread out more documents. "We prove the articles were legitimate journalism. We show that the relationship developed naturally, not through coercion. We document the timeline of going legitimate. We make it impossible for him to prove conspiracy."
"And if that doesn't work?" I asked.
"Then we prepare for trial." Emilio met my eyes. "But Luca, if it comes to that, you need to be prepared for the possibility that Valentino will need to distance himself. For his own protection."
Valentino's hand found mine under the table. "Together," he said quietly. "We do this together."
Emilio sighed but nodded. "Then we prepare for the fight. All of us."
The meeting went late into the night, strategizing and planning and preparing for what felt like an inevitable collision with federal prosecution.
But through it all, Valentino's hand stayed in mine. Steady. Sure. Choosing me even when the smart choice would be to run.