Chapter 14 Luca
FOUR MONTHS.
FOUR months since our arrest, and we were finally seeing some small victories.
I sat in Emilio's office with Valentino beside me, watching our lawyer review the judge's rulings on our pre-trial motions.
"The good news," Emilio said, "is that Judge Morrison granted several of our motions to suppress evidence. The surveillance from the first two weeks after Luca approached Valentino has been ruled inadmissible—obtained without proper warrant."
"That's significant?" Valentino asked.
"Very. Those photos showed the most overtly coercive period of your relationship.
Without them, the prosecution's timeline is weaker.
" Emilio flipped through papers. "We also got three witness testimonies excluded—people who would have testified about Luca's past criminal activities that aren't directly relevant to these charges. "
Relief flooded through me. "So the case against us is weaker?"
"Weaker, yes. But not weak." Emilio met my eyes. "They still have plenty of evidence. The later surveillance, the article timeline, witness statements from Alex Park and others. It's still a strong case. But we have a better chance than we did."
"When's the trial?" I asked.
"Two months. Judge set the date for six months after your arrest, exactly as we'd estimated." He closed the file. "That gives us time to prepare. Witness prep, strategy sessions, mock trials. We're going to be ready."
Valentino's hand found mine under the table. "What are our actual chances?"
"Honestly? Fifty-fifty on the major charges. Probably seventy-thirty you both get convicted on the obstruction charges—those are harder to counter." Emilio leaned back. "But we're fighting for the best outcome we can get. And these rulings help."
After the meeting, we walked to the car in silence. Both processing. Both trying to calculate what fifty-fifty odds meant for our future.
"Small victories," Valentino said finally. "That's what Emilio called them."
"Better than no victories." I opened the car door for him. "We take what we can get."
That evening, we were supposed to have dinner with Stefan and Julian. They'd been helping Valentino with the transition into public relations work—giving him projects, teaching him the corporate side of communications.
But when we arrived at Stefan and Matteo’s place, Valentino was quiet. Distracted.
"You okay?" Stefan asked him during dinner.
"I got another rejection today. From the Times." Valentino set down his fork. "I pitched them a story—nothing to do with organized crime, completely separate topic. They said they'd love to see it. But when they found out who I was, they passed."
"They told you why?" Julian asked gently.
"They didn't have to. I know why." He looked around the table.
"No one will hire me. The press freedom organization put out that statement supporting me, other journalists have defended my independent work.
But at the end of the day, I'm the journalist who dated a mob boss and got arrested for conspiracy. That's not going away."
"Even if we win the trial?" I asked.
"Even then. 'Former defendant' sounds better than 'convicted felon,' but I'm still the guy who compromised himself." He took a breath. "I think I need to accept that my journalism career is over."
The words hung in the air.
"What will you do instead?" Stefan asked carefully.
"You've been offering me the PR role for months now. If the offer still stands, I'd like to accept it. Officially." Valentino looked between Stefan and Julian. "I can't be objective anymore. And honestly? I don't want to be. I want to help build something good. With all of you. With Luca."
"The offer absolutely still stands," Julian said. "We'd be lucky to have you."
"You're sure about this?" I asked Valentino. "Journalism has been your whole career."
"I'm sure. It's bittersweet—I'm mourning something I loved. But I'm also choosing something new. Something that lets me be honest about who I am and what I want." He found my hand. "I'm choosing this. Actively. No regrets."
Stefan raised his glass. "Then welcome to the team. Officially."
We toasted, but I could see the grief in Valentino's eyes even as he smiled. This was the right choice, but it still hurt. Another thing sacrificed because of me, because of what we'd become to each other.
Later, driving home, I tried to find the right words.
"I'm sorry," I said finally. "For what this cost you. Your career, your reputation—"
"Don't." He cut me off. "Don't apologize for this. I made my choices. And yes, it costs me. But you're worth it. This—us—it's worth it."
"Is it? Really?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "Even knowing how it would end, I'd choose you again. Every time."
That night, after we'd gotten home and changed into comfortable clothes, we ended up on the couch with wine. Both of us quiet, processing everything—the legal victories, the career sacrifice, the trial looming in two months.
"We should talk about worst case scenarios," I said eventually.
Valentino looked at me. "Do we have to?"
"We have to. Emilio said fifty-fifty odds on the major charges. That means there's a real possibility we both go to prison." I took his hand. "We need to plan for that."
"What's there to plan? If we're convicted, we go to prison. End of story."
"Not end of story. Beginning of a different one." I pulled him closer. "If I go to prison—when, realistically, I go to prison—I need to know you'll be okay."
"I won't be okay. I'll be devastated."
"But you'll survive. You have the job with Stefan and Julian now. You have the penthouse—it's yours whether I'm here or not. You have the family support. You'll survive."
"What about you?" His voice was tight. "What happens to you in prison?"
"I've been to prison before. I know how to handle it." I tried to sound confident. "I'll keep my head down, follow the rules, get early release for good behavior. Eighteen months becomes twelve, maybe less."
"And if it's longer? If you get the full sentence or more?"
"Then you wait. If you want to. If you choose to."
"Of course I'll wait." He pulled back to look at me. "Did you really think I wouldn't?"
"I think prison changes things. Months apart, maybe years. Limited visits, monitored phone calls. That's hard on any relationship."
"So we'll do the hard thing. We've been doing hard things since we met." He caught my face in his hands. "Luca, listen to me. If you go to prison, I will wait for you. I will visit every chance I get. I will be there when you're released. That's not a question."
"And if you go to prison—"
"Then you do the same for me. We've already promised this to each other." His eyes were fierce. "No matter what happens at trial, we're in this together. Whatever the verdict, whatever the sentence, we face it together."
"Together," I agreed.
"Say it. Promise me."
"I promise. If you go to prison, I'll be there every visiting day. I'll write you letters. I'll count down the days until you're released. I'll wait for you." My voice roughened. "And when you get out, we'll rebuild. Whatever we have to rebuild."
"And I promise the same." He kissed me. "We survive this. Whatever form it takes, we survive."
We sat there holding each other for a long time. Both thinking about what survival might look like. Separate prisons, glass partitions, monitored phone calls. Years of our lives interrupted, delayed, stolen.
But also: each other. That constant. That certainty.
"I'm scared," Valentino admitted quietly.
"So am I."
"But we'll face it together."
"Together. Always."
He kissed me again, deeper this time. Need and fear and desperation mixing together. I kissed back just as hard, both of us needing the connection, needing to feel close before the storm that was coming.
"I need you," he said against my mouth. "Right now. I need you."
"I'm here." I stood and pulled him up with me. "Come on."
We went to the bedroom, both of us moving with purpose. This wasn't about urgency or passion—this was about connection. About showing each other what words couldn't fully express.
I undressed him slowly, taking my time. Hands tracing over skin I'd memorized, features I could draw from memory. Every part of him precious. Every moment together something to hold on to.
"You're so beautiful," I said, running my hands down his chest. "Every time I look at you, I can't believe you're real. That you're mine."
"I'm yours." He pulled me close, working on my clothes. "Only yours. Always."
Once we were both naked, I pulled him onto the bed. Took my time touching him, tasting him, showing him without words how much he meant to me.
"Luca—" His voice broke as I kissed down his body. "Please—"
"I know what you need." I looked up at him. "Let me take care of you."
I worshipped him with my mouth and hands, taking him apart slowly. Made him gasp and moan and beg. Showed him with every touch how much I loved him, how grateful I was for every choice he'd made, how sorry I was for everything it had cost him.
"Please—" He was shaking. "I need you inside me. Please."
I grabbed the lube from the nightstand and prepared him carefully, thoroughly. Watching his face as I stretched him open, seeing the pleasure and need and love in his eyes.
"You ready?" I asked, positioning myself.
"Yes. God, yes. I need you."
I pushed inside slowly, both of us gasping at the connection. Held still once I was fully seated, letting him adjust, just feeling the intimacy of being joined like this.
"I love you," I said, starting to move. "No matter what happens at trial, no matter what verdict comes, I love you. That doesn't change."
"I love you too." His hands gripped my shoulders. "Nothing changes that. Nothing."
I made love to him slowly, tenderly. Showing him with every movement how much this meant, how much he meant. Both of us emotional and vulnerable and completely present with each other.
"You're everything," I said against his throat. "My whole world. The best thing that ever happened to me."
"Even though I cost you—"
"You didn't cost me anything. You gave me everything." I pulled back to look at him. "You gave me a reason to be better. To go legitimate. To want a real future instead of just survival. You gave me love. That's worth anything."
Tears were running down his face. "No matter what happens, I choose you. Every time."
"I choose you too. Forever."
I reached between us to stroke him in time with my thrusts. Watched his face as pleasure built, as he got closer to the edge. Memorizing every expression, every sound, every moment.
"Come for me," I said. "Let me see you."
He came with a cry, body clenching around me, and the sensation pushed me over the edge too. I buried myself deep and let go, both of us shaking through it together.
Afterward, I pulled out carefully and gathered him close. We lay there tangled together, both of us coming down, both processing what we'd just shared.
"Two months until trial," Valentino said quietly.
"Two months."
"And then whatever happens, happens."
"And we face it together."
"Together." He held me tighter. "I'm terrified, Luca. Of the verdict. Of prison. Of being separated from you."
"I'm terrified too. But I'm also grateful." I kissed his forehead. "Grateful that we have each other. That we built something real. That no matter what verdict comes, I get to love you."
"Even if we're separated?"
"Even then. Love doesn't stop because of distance or prison walls. It just... adapts. We'll adapt."
"Promise?"
"I promise. Whatever comes, we survive it. Together."
We fell asleep like that, holding each other close. Both scared of what the next two months would bring. Both terrified of the trial, the verdict, the potential separation.
But also both certain of one thing: we'd face it together.