She makes a face at the word “food,” but obeys without arguing, which tells me more than her words could. She takes a long pull, sets the glass down, and looks up at me.
“You’re staying here tonight,” I say, leaving no room for argument.
She studies me, the line of my mouth, the certainty I’m not going to apologize for. Then she nods. It’s small, but it’s a nod. “Okay.”
The word loosens something in my chest I hadn’t noticed cinching tight. I set the mug down, take her hand again, and let the house be what it’s meant to be: shelter and men at gates, and, for tonight, a place where the woman I love can be safe and breathe easy.
Chapter Thirty
Elena
His room is quiet enough that I can hear our breathing. The door is shut; the rest of the house continues to function behind it with distant voices and footsteps that come and go. He’s standing by the dresser; I sit on the edge of the bed with my phone in my hand.
“We need to report this,” I say. No preface. “Tonight.”
He shakes his head once. “Not yet.”
“Luca—”
“If you call the marshals, they log it, they come here, they put you in a car and take you somewhere I can’t control.” His eyes hold mine. “You’ll be photographed. Questioned. Your location goes in a system that at least a dozen people can access.”
“That’s called a record,” I say. “Which is what we want. If they hit me in my garage, they’ll try again. They won’t stop because you’re annoyed.”
His jaw flexes, but his voice stays even. “We’re already pulling the car, the driver, the cameras. We move faster than a task force meeting.”
“Fast isn’t the same as legitimate.” I stand. “If this turns into a case—attempted assault, conspiracy—you know what the first question will be? ‘Ms. Pennino, did you report the first attempt?’ If I say no, my credibility is the first casualty.”
“You’re not on a stand,” he says quietly.
“I have to live like I might be,” I shoot back, then lower my voice. “This isn’t just about me. There are other people in that building. If they were willing to gun a Tahoe at me in a lit garage, they might try something stupid again.”
He looks past me for a beat, then back. “And if you call now, they’ll connect the dots. Your name, my house. They will not keep it quiet.”
“I won’t give them your address,” I say. “I can meet them off-site. I can file by phone. I know how to do this.”
“They’ll still want eyes on you.” He comes closer, stops within reach. “And if they put you behind their door, they won’t let me through it.”
There it is. I rub my thumb over my phone case. “This isn’t about your door. It’s about the rule of law.”
“It’s about keeping you and the baby breathing,” he says, low. “That’smylaw.”
We stare at each other. I feel the tug-of-war in my ribs—training on one side, instinct on the other.
“Compromise,” I say finally.
He sighs. “Elena.”
“I can’t justnotreport it, Luca. That’s not who I am,” I say. “My reputation is already on fire. I’m not going to pretend I’m not who I am because it’s inconvenient for you.”
His mouth curves. Hurt. “This isn’t about convenience.”
“It’s about the law,” I say, heat flushing up my neck.
“They can’t protect you!” he snaps. “They couldn’t keep me out, and they werelooking for me. I wasinthe apartment with them that night.”
“I know,” I say, because denying it would be stupid. “You got past them. But that’s not a reason to do nothing. It’s a reason to do more.”
“I am doing more,” he says, steady but hard. “I have men on every angle. We’ll have the car and the driver before your boss has finished drafting a memo.”
