Chapter 12 Luca
TWO WEEKS.
TWO weeks since our arrest, and we were finally meeting with the full legal team to discuss trial strategy.
I sat at Emilio's conference table with Valentino beside me, both of us wearing business casual despite the ankle monitors hidden beneath our pants. Emilio and two junior attorneys spread documents across the table—surveillance photos, witness statements, article timelines.
"Let's start with what they have," Emilio said.
He was all business today, the charming husband completely gone.
This was Emilio the lawyer, sharp and focused.
"The surveillance is extensive. Photos of you together dating back four months.
Entering and leaving each other's residences. Public displays of affection."
He laid out photo after photo. Me and Valentino at restaurants. Walking along the Hudson. Getting into my car. The intimacy captured in each image was undeniable.
"These prove a relationship," Emilio continued. "But not coercion. Not conspiracy. The prosecution will argue the timeline—relationship started, then favorable articles followed. We counter that the articles are factually accurate and that Valentino maintained journalistic standards throughout."
"What about the initial coercion?" I asked. "If they prove I threatened him at the beginning—"
"Then we argue it evolved. Coercion that transforms into genuine choice is not ongoing conspiracy.
" Emilio pulled out another document. "Valentino's independent school board investigation is crucial here.
Done entirely without your involvement, published during your relationship. Proves he maintained integrity."
Valentino had been quiet, studying the photos. "They're going to call me compromised. Say I was manipulated."
"Yes. Stockholm syndrome will be their narrative." Emilio met his eyes. "You'll need to testify. Tell your story honestly. The judge and jury need to see that you made conscious choices."
"Even if those choices look bad?"
"Especially then. Honesty is our strongest defense."
We spent two hours going through evidence. Witness lists—Alex Park's name made Valentino flinch. Financial records showing my legitimate business dealings. The timeline of our relationship mapped against my organization's activities.
"Trial's set for six months from now," Emilio said finally. "Between now and then, we prepare. Depositions, discovery, witness prep. This will consume your lives."
"It already has," Valentino said quietly.
After the meeting, I went to Inferno for a partners meeting. First time back since the arrest. Walking in felt different—I was under indictment now, facing RICO charges. Federal scrutiny on everything we did.
Sandro, Matteo, and Elio were already there. All three looked up as I entered.
"How'd the legal meeting go?" Sandro asked.
"About as expected. Trial in six months. They have a lot of evidence but Emilio thinks we can counter it." I sat down. "How are things here?"
"Complicated." Matteo pulled out reports. "FBI's been sniffing around more since your arrest. Looking at our finances, our deals, our properties."
"Any problems?"
"Nothing illegal. Stefan's legitimate restructuring is holding. But we've lost three deals this week. Investors don't want to be associated with federal indictments."
Guilt twisted in my stomach. "I'm sorry. I'm dragging you all down."
"You're not dragging us anywhere," Elio said firmly. "We're family. We knew the risks when we went into business together."
"Still—"
"Still nothing." Sandro's voice was hard. "We stick together. That's how this works. You've had our backs through everything. Now we have yours."
"The FBI scrutiny—"
"Is annoying but manageable. We're clean, Luca. The restructuring is real. Let them investigate. They'll find legitimate business." Matteo leaned forward. "How's Valentino holding up?"
"Better than expected. He's been helping with trial prep. Researching case law, organizing documents. Emilio says he's invaluable."
"He's a fighter," Elio observed. "Didn't expect that when you first brought him around. Thought he'd break under pressure."
"So did I." I thought about Valentino at the legal meeting—focused, asking smart questions, taking notes. "He's stronger than anyone gives him credit for."
"You love him." Sandro said it as fact, not question.
"I do. Completely."
"Then fight for him. Fight for this. We're behind you all the way."
When I got home, Valentino was at the dining table surrounded by papers and his laptop. He'd been doing this every day—researching, reading case files, helping build our defense.
"Find anything useful?" I asked.
"Maybe. There's precedent for relationships that start under duress evolving into genuine partnerships. Several cases where courts recognized the distinction." He looked up, exhaustion clear in his face. "It doesn't guarantee anything but it helps."
I pulled out a chair beside him. "You don't have to do this. Emilio has a team—"
"I need to do this. I need to feel like I'm helping. Like I have some control." He gestured at the papers. "Everything else in my life is falling apart. My career's destroyed. My reputation's in ruins. This—helping with our defense—it's the only thing I can actually do."
"Your career isn't destroyed—"
"Yes it is. And we both know it." He said it without bitterness, just acceptance. "Even if we win, I'm the journalist who dated a mob boss. Who got arrested for conspiracy. No major outlet will touch me."
"Then you do something else. Stefan and Julian already offered you a position—"
"Doing PR for your organization. Which is exactly what everyone already thinks I was doing." He rubbed his face. "I'm not saying I won't take it. I probably will. But let's not pretend it's not a massive step down from investigative journalism."
I didn't know what to say to that. He was right. His career—the thing he'd worked his entire adult life building—was over. Because of me.
"I'm sorry," I said finally.
"Don't be. I made my choices." He reached for my hand. "I chose you. I'd choose you again. Even knowing what it would cost."
"That doesn't make me feel less guilty."
"I know. But it's still true." He squeezed my hand. "Come on. I've been at this for six hours. I need a break."
We made dinner together, both trying to find normalcy in the routine. Cooking, talking about nothing important, pretending for a moment that we weren't under indictment facing years in prison.
After dinner, we cleaned up and moved to the couch. Valentino curled against my side and I wrapped my arm around him.
"I watched you today," I said. "At the legal meeting. The way you analyzed everything, asked questions, saw connections. You were brilliant."
"I was doing my job. Or my former job, I guess."
"You were more than that. You were strong. Focused. Refusing to be defeated." I turned to look at him. "You're incredible, Valentino. You know that?"
"I don't feel incredible. I feel terrified and exhausted."
"You can be both." I kissed him. "Terrified and exhausted and still incredible."
He kissed me back, deeper, needing the connection. When we broke apart, his eyes were dark with want.
"I need you," he said quietly. "Need to feel something other than fear."
"I need you too."
We moved to the bedroom, both of us needing this. Needing to feel wanted and loved despite everything falling apart around us.
I undressed him slowly, taking my time. Two weeks of stress and fear and pressure—we needed this to be different. Needed it to be about more than release.
"You're so beautiful," I said, running my hands over his skin. "Every time I look at you, I can't believe you're real. That you chose me."
"I chose you." He pulled me down for a kiss. "I'll keep choosing you."
I made love to him slowly, worshipping every inch of him. Showing him without words how much he meant. How grateful I was that he'd stayed. How much I loved him despite—or maybe because of—everything we were facing.
"Luca—" His voice broke as I moved inside him. "God, I love you."
"I love you too. So much. Everything—the trial, the charges, none of it changes that."
"Promise?"
"I promise. You're everything to me."
We moved together, both of us emotional and desperate and needing the connection. When we finally came apart, we were both shaking.
I held him after, neither of us wanting to let go. Both of us finding strength in each other that we couldn't find alone.
"We're going to survive this," I said into his hair.
"I know. We survived two weeks. We'll survive six months. However long it takes."
"Together."
"Always together."
We fell asleep tangled in each other, both exhausted but somehow more settled. The trial loomed ahead. The charges threatened everything. The media destroyed us daily.
But we had each other. And for tonight, that was enough.