19. The Offer #2
I stayed where I was, watching him for a moment without making a sound.
No one remained to witness whatever decision he made.
Except me.
I should have announced myself. But the pen beside his hand and the open contract held me there, silent and unseen.
Luca sank into the chair and pulled the term sheet closer.
For several seconds, he only read. Then he reached for his phone.
The screen lit his face as he scrolled. A video started without sound, but I recognized the cage before I saw anything else. Black chain-link fencing. White canvas. A crowd packed tight beyond it.
His old life.
Luca watched himself circle an opponent beneath flashing arena lights. Even muted, I could imagine the roar. The chants. The savage burst of approval when his fist connected.
His thumb moved across the screen, replaying the moment.
Once. Twice.
On the third replay, his shoulders changed. The tension didn't leave them. It sharpened. His spine straightened, and one hand curled on the table as though his body remembered the rhythm before his mind could argue.
That frightened me more than Victor's deadline.
Because I had seen Luca with Ava when the world grew too loud. I had watched him lower himself to the floor, soften his voice, and wait until she reached for him. I had felt that same patience turned on me, steady enough to make trusting him seem less terrifying.
The man in the video had no patience. He moved like hunger given bones.
Luca shut his eyes.
For one hopeful second, I thought he might close the video. Instead, he leaned back and let it play while the tiny screen flashed violence across his face.
I remembered Ava at breakfast, carefully lining up strawberry slices along the edge of her plate. The small smile she gave him when he sat beside her. The way Luca had touched the back of her head as he passed, gentle without thinking.
I wanted that memory to be louder than the crowd he was watching.
His phone finally went dark. Luca stared at his reflection in the black screen, then at the contract. Slowly, he turned to the signature page.
My breath caught as his hand closed around the pen. I stepped out from behind the column before the tip could touch the paper.
"Luca."
His head snapped up.
Whatever had been pulling him toward that signature still burned in his expression. Then he recognized me, and some of the heat receded.
"What are you doing here?" Luca asked.
"Stopping you from making a decision you'll hate."
His mouth flattened. "You don't know that."
"I know you watched the same knockout three times."
His gaze flicked toward the glass wall. He had seen where I'd been standing.
"Were you spying on me?"
"I was trying to understand you."
He shoved back from the table and walked toward the balcony doors. For one second, I thought he meant to leave me there. Instead, he pushed outside, and humid air rushed into the chilled room.
I followed.
The ocean glittered beyond the railing, bright and indifferent. Wind tugged strands of hair across my face while Luca stood with both hands gripping the metal rail.
"You want me to choose stability," he said.
"I want you to stop pretending this is only about saving the resort."
His shoulders went still.
I moved beside him, leaving enough space that he wouldn't feel cornered. "Victor is using people's jobs to force you back into a cage. But Donny was right. Part of you wants to go."
Luca's laugh was quiet and bitter. "You think I'm that simple?"
"I think you miss being certain of who you were."
That made him look at me.
For once, there was no anger in his face. Only something stripped down and tired.
"In there, nobody questioned me," he said. "They could hate me, cheer for me, bet against me. It didn't matter. The bell rang, and I knew exactly what to do."
"And now?"
"Now everyone wants something different." His jaw tightened. "Ava needs me steady. Donny needs me harmless. The board needs me profitable. You need me to be a man who doesn't scare you."
The truth in his words stung.
"I need you to be honest."
His fingers tightened around the railing. "Fine. I miss it. I miss walking into a room and knowing no one could look through me. I miss being wanted for the one thing I was better at than anyone else."
My chest ached at the confession.
"And if you sign," I asked, "will that be enough?"
He looked toward the conference table.
"No," he said after a long pause. "That's the problem."
I reached for his hand, but he pulled away before I touched him.
"Luca."
"If I choose you and Ava, and the resort collapses, love won't make payroll."
His voice stayed low, but the distance in it cut clean.
"And if you choose the cage?" I asked.
He met my eyes.
Neither of us had an answer that didn't cost something.
Luca looked away first.
He walked back into the office, leaving the balcony door open behind him. Warm air followed us inside, stirring the corner of the contract where it waited on the table.
I stayed near the doorway while he picked up the pen.
My stomach dropped.
"Luca."
He didn't answer. He turned to the signature page, stared at the blank line, then set the pen down with deliberate care.
For one breath, nothing happened. Then he grabbed the contract with both hands and tore it down the middle. The sound was sharp enough to make me flinch.
He tore it again. And again. White paper scattered across the glass table, Victor's terms reduced to strips beneath his fists.
"I'm done letting that life decide who I am," he said.
Relief hit so fast it left me unsteady.
Luca shoved the pieces away and looked at me. The fight had gone out of his posture, but not the fear. That remained, stripped of anger and impossible to miss.
"I'll find another way."
I crossed the room before I could second-guess it.
This time, when I reached for his hand, he let me take it.
"You don't have to find it alone."
His fingers closed around mine. Not tightly. Carefully, as though he was still learning what it meant to hold on without crushing something.
"I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."
"No, you shouldn't have," I said. "And for the record, tearing up ten million dollars does not earn you instant forgiveness."
A tired breath escaped him. "What does?"
"I'll let you know when you're getting close."
A faint, exhausted breath left him. Almost a laugh.
"But I'm here."
He lifted our joined hands and pressed his mouth to my knuckles. The gesture was so quiet it hurt more than an apology delivered perfectly ever could.
For the first time since I had entered his office, I could see a path forward. It wasn't safe or clear, but it belonged to him. To us. Not to Victor, the crowd, or the version of Luca everyone kept trying to resurrect.
His phone vibrated against the table. We both looked down. Victor's name flashed across the screen. Luca released me and opened the message. The color drained from his face.
"What is it?"
He turned the phone toward me.
Funding suspended. Resort payroll at risk.
For a second, I only heard the ocean through the open balcony door and the thin rattle of shredded paper shifting beneath the vent.
Then Luca's phone began ringing.
Victor.
Luca stared at the screen, jaw tightening as the call continued to buzz between us.
He had chosen us.
And Victor had just made sure everyone else would pay for it.