Home. With him. Where I belonged.
We'd survived everything—coercion, choice, trial, prison, separation. We'd built something real from darkness. And now we had the rest of our lives to build more.
Together.
CHAPTER 23: VALENTINO
TWO YEARS.
TWOyears since Luca walked out of that prison and back into my arms. One year since we stood in front of our family and made it official. One year of marriage.
I looked around the penthouse—our home—and marveled at how much had changed. How much we'd built.
Luca was in the kitchen making dinner. I watched him from the dining table where I was working on my laptop, finishing edits on my manuscript.
The sequel toThe Architect and The Journalist. This one covering the separation, the reunion. Our publisher wanted it rushed to press, riding the wave of the first book's continued success.
"How's the writing going?" Luca called over his shoulder.
"Almost done. Just polishing the final chapter."
"What's the final chapter about?"
"This. Us. Now. Two years later, both thriving in legitimate careers. Both free. Both happy." I closed the laptop. "Our happy ending."
He turned from the stove and smiled. "Not an ending. Just a new chapter."
"You're right." I stood and crossed to him, wrapping my arms around him from behind. "A new chapter. One where we get to just... be."
He turned in my arms and kissed me. "I like being. With you."
"Good. Because you're stuck with me. Legally." I held up my left hand, showing the wedding band. "One year today."
"One year," he agreed. "Best year of my life."
"Even better than the year you coerced a journalist and got arrested?"
He laughed. "Significantly better than that year."
We celebrated our anniversary quietly at home. Just us. Dinner, wine, looking through photos from the wedding.
It had been a small ceremony. Just the four couples—Sandro and Emilio, Matteo and Stefan, Elio and Julian, and us. Intimate and perfect. No press. No spectators. Just family.
"Look at this one." I pointed to a photo of Luca and me during our vows. Both of us crying. "We were such a mess."
"Happy mess." He studied the photo. "I meant every word I said that day."
"So did I." I leaned against him. "Do you remember what you said? In your vows?"
"I said that you changed my life. That you made me want to be better. That loving you was the best choice I ever made, even though I didn't choose it at first—it chose me." His voice was soft. "And I said that I'd spend the rest of my life choosing you. Every single day."
Tears pricked my eyes. "And I said that you taught me about choice. About agency. About building something real from darkness. That I chose you then, I choose you now, I'll choose you forever."
"Forever," he agreed, kissing my temple. "I'm holding you to that."
We sat there looking at photos, remembering. The journey from that first encounter to this moment. All the darkness. All the light. All the choices that led us here.
"Best decision I ever made," I said.
