Chapter 21 Emilio
I DROVE TO Inferno on autopilot. Hands steady on the wheel despite the adrenaline still coursing through my system. I'd testified in court before. Had been cross-examined. Had faced hostile questioning from opposing counsel.
But never like that.
Never with my entire relationship laid bare for a jury to dissect. Never with someone I loved sitting twenty feet away watching me defend both of us. Never with the stakes this high and the consequences this permanent.
Roberto had tried to make me look corrupted. Bought. A kept man who'd sold his integrity for money and affection. Part of me wondered if he was right. If I'd become so thoroughly compromised that I couldn't see it anymore.
The parking attendant at Inferno waved me through to the VIP section. I took the elevator up, expecting to find Sandro alone in his apartment. Instead I heard voices from the private conference room. The door was partially open.
"—made him look sympathetic," Matteo was saying. "Like Sandro's victim instead of his accomplice. That could help us."
"The jury seemed sympathetic," Elio agreed. "Especially the women. They saw a young attorney trying to do the right thing by withdrawing from the case when he recognized the conflict."
"Doesn't matter how sympathetic they found him if we can't prove Matteo's assault was justified." That was Luca. "The prosecution still has medical records. Witness testimony. We need to discredit their timeline."
I stood in the hallway listening to them dissect my testimony like it was just another piece of trial strategy. Which it was. But hearing it analyzed so clinically made my chest tighten.
"He did well." Sandro's voice. Quiet but firm. "Better than most witnesses under that kind of pressure. Roberto tried to break him and failed."
"Because he's loyal to you," Matteo said. "Question is whether that loyalty makes him look honest or compromised."
"It makes him look human." Sandro's chair scraped. "Now if you're done analyzing my boyfriend's performance, get out. All of you."
Footsteps. I stepped back as the door opened fully. Matteo emerged first, followed by Elio and Luca. They all stopped when they saw me.
"Emilio." Elio's expression was carefully neutral. "You handled yourself well today."
"Thanks." My voice came out rougher than intended.
Matteo studied me for a moment. "You could've destroyed Sandro up there. Given the prosecutor what he wanted. You didn't. That means something."
"I told the truth. That's all."
"The truth can be destructive when you're dealing with people like us." Matteo's smile was sharp. "The fact that you chose which truths to tell—that's loyalty."
They left. I stood in the hallway until their footsteps faded. Then I walked into the conference room.
Sandro was standing at the windows. Still in his suit from court. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders tight with tension.
"How much did you hear?" he asked without turning.
"Enough. They're right. I could've made things worse for you."
"You could've destroyed me completely if you'd wanted to." He finally turned. His eyes were dark. Haunted. "Roberto handed you the opportunity. All you had to do was admit I manipulated you. That the relationship was coercive from the start. The jury would've eaten it up."
"That's not what happened."
"Isn't it?" He walked toward me slowly. "I identified you as vulnerable. Used your financial situation. Made myself necessary. That's textbook manipulation, Emilio."
"You're not wrong. But manipulation requires the victim to be unaware. I knew what you were doing. I chose to let you do it." I met his eyes. "That makes me complicit, not victimized."
"The distinction might be too subtle for a jury."
"Maybe. But it's the truth." I loosened my tie. Suddenly the courtroom formality felt suffocating. "Can we not do this right now? Analyze whether I was manipulated? Debate the ethics of how we got together?"
"What do you want to do?"
"I want to stop thinking. Stop replaying my testimony. Stop worrying about what the jury thinks." I pulled off my tie completely. "I want you to make me forget about all of it for a few hours."
Something shifted in his expression. Softened. "Come upstairs."
He led me to his private apartment. Didn't stop in the living room or the office. Went straight to the master bathroom and started running water in the massive soaking tub. Added bath oil that smelled like cedar and something darker I couldn't identify.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Taking care of you." He turned back to me and started unbuttoning my shirt. Slowly. Carefully. "You've been taking care of me for months. Building my defense. Withdrawing from the case to protect me. Testifying today knowing it would be brutal. Tonight I take care of you."
He stripped me methodically. Each piece of clothing removed with gentle efficiency until I was standing naked in his bathroom feeling exposed in ways that had nothing to do with physical nakedness.
"Get in," he said quietly.
I stepped into the tub. The water was almost too hot but it felt perfect against my skin. I sank down and let the heat soak into muscles I hadn't realized were tense.
Sandro tested the temperature. Added more hot water. Then stripped out of his own suit and joined me. The tub was large enough that we both fit comfortably, but he pulled me against his chest anyway. Positioned us so my back was to him and I could lean against him completely.
"Close your eyes," he murmured.
I obeyed.
His hands moved to my hair. Gentle fingers working through the product I'd used to look professional in court. Then shampoo. He washed my hair with careful attention. Massaging my scalp. Working from roots to ends. Taking his time.
No one had washed my hair since I was a child. The intimacy of it made my throat tight.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For putting you through that. For making you a target. For forcing you to defend our relationship to a room full of strangers."
"You didn't force me to do anything. I made my choices."
"You made choices I manipulated you into making." His hands stilled. "I'm not trying to absolve myself, Emilio. What I did to you—identifying your vulnerabilities, exploiting them, making you dependent on me—that wasn't ethical or fair."
"No, it wasn't." I kept my eyes closed. Let the honesty sit between us. "But I'm not some innocent victim. I'm a grown man who chose you knowing exactly what you are. What you're capable of. The world you operate in."
"You chose me because I didn't give you better options."
"I chose you because underneath all the manipulation and strategy, there's something real. Something worth choosing." I turned in the tub to face him. Water sloshed over the edges. "Do you love me?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "Completely. Probably more than I should."
"Then that's real. Everything else—the manipulation, the money, the debt payments—that's just how we got here. But what we have now is real." I cupped his face. "Stop apologizing for how we started. Start focusing on what we're building."
He kissed me. Soft and careful. Like I was something precious he was afraid of breaking.
"You're too good for me," he murmured against my lips.
"Probably. But you're stuck with me anyway."
We stayed in the bath until the water started cooling.
Didn't talk about the trial or the testimony or what came next.
Just existed together in the quiet warmth.
His arms around me. My head on his shoulder.
Two people who'd found each other through morally questionable means but loved each other anyway.
Eventually he stood and helped me out. Dried me off with a towel so soft it must've cost a fortune. Led me to the bedroom still damp and naked.
The bed was already turned down. He'd had someone prepare it while we were in the bath. Fresh sheets. Pillows fluffed. Subtle lighting that made everything look softer. Gentler.
"Lie down," he said.
I climbed onto the bed and stretched out on my back. Watched him move around the room. Dimming lights further. Putting on music—something instrumental and slow. Setting out lube and condoms on the nightstand.
When he finally joined me on the bed, his expression was intense. Almost reverent.
"What?" I asked.
"I'm just looking at you. Memorizing this." He traced a finger down my chest. "You testified today knowing it could destroy your career. Knowing it would expose you to judgment and scrutiny. You did it anyway because you love me."
"Yes."
"That kind of loyalty is rare. Especially from someone like you. Someone with options. Someone who could walk away and rebuild somewhere else." His hand splayed across my stomach. "I don't deserve it."
"Stop deciding what you deserve. I'm choosing to give it to you. That's enough."
He kissed me again. Slower this time. Deeper. Taking his time exploring my mouth like we had all night. Which we did.
His mouth moved down my neck. Found the spot below my ear that made me gasp. Sucked gently while his hands roamed my body. Learning me. Cataloging what made me respond.
By the time he reached my chest I was already hard. Already desperate for more. But he refused to rush. Took his time with each nipple. Licking. Biting gently. Paying attention to how I responded and adjusting accordingly.
"Sandro—" His name came out strangled.
"Shh. We're not rushing tonight. I'm going to take my time with you. Make you feel everything." He kissed down my stomach. "Make you forget about courtrooms and testimony and everything except how good I can make you feel."
"You're already making me feel good."
"Not good enough yet." He bypassed my cock entirely. Kissed along my hip. Down my thigh. Behind my knee. Places no one had ever paid attention to before.
It was torture. Perfect, agonizing torture.
When he finally wrapped his hand around my cock I nearly came from that alone.
"Not yet," he said. "You don't get to come until I'm inside you."
"Then get inside me already."