"Where what?" He was closer now. Looking at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
"Where I can keep you." The truth finally. Raw and honest. "I don't want you just for the stories, Valentino. I want you. This. Us. Whatever the fuck this is."
His breath caught. "That's not what you said before—"
"I know what I said before. I was lying." I reached out and caught his hand. Threaded our fingers together. "I've been lying about what this is since the moment I saw you filming that raid. I wanted you then. Want you now. Not as an asset. As mine."
"You can't just—" He pulled his hand away. "You can't coerce me into this arrangement and then decide you want something else. That's not how this works."
"I know." And I did know. I'd fucked this up from the beginning. Chosen control over honesty. Forced his hand instead of earning his trust. "I know I did this wrong. But I'm trying to do it right now. I'm giving you a choice."
"What choice?"
"You can leave. Right now. I'll release you from our arrangement. You can publish whatever you want, write whatever stories you want, never speak to me again." The words physically hurt to say. "Or you can stay. Come back next week. Let this become something other than coercion."
He stared at me. "You'd really let me go? Just like that? After everything?"
"If that's what you want, yes."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because I'm done lying." I met his eyes. Held his gaze. "I've spent my entire adult life being this. Performing for everyone. Showing them exactly what they need to see to trust me. But you—you see through it. You've always seen through it. And that terrifies me and attracts me in equal measure."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "If I stay, this can't be just about control. Can't be you summoning me and me obeying."
"What do you want it to be?"
"I don't know yet." He was looking at me like I was a problem he couldn't quite solve. "But I know I can't keep hating myself for wanting you. Can't keep feeling like I've sold my soul every time we meet."
"Then we make it something else. Something better." I stepped closer. "Stay, Valentino. Not because I'm threatening you. Because you want to."
"I don't know if I can trust that you won't threaten me again the moment it's convenient."
Fair. Absolutely fair. "Then don't trust me yet. Just come back next week. See if I follow through. Test it. I'll prove I mean this."
He studied me for a long time. I watched him think through the angles. Calculate the risks. Try to figure out if this was another manipulation.
Finally: "One week. I'll come back in one week. But Luca? If this is just another control game, if you're lying to me right now, I'm done. For real this time."
"Understood."
He moved toward the door. Paused with his hand on the handle. "What's the story you want me to write?"
"I don't have one yet. Next week isn't about a story. It's about us figuring out what this is when it's not about work."
"That sounds suspiciously like a date."
"Maybe it is." I managed something close to a smile. "Would that be so terrible?"
"Probably." But he was smiling too. Just a little. "I'll see you next week, Luca."
He left. The door closed behind him with a soft click.
I stood in my wrecked office—papers scattered, desk cleared, the faint scent of sex still lingering—and tried to process what had just happened.
I'd meant to maintain control. Meant to keep this transactional and clear. Meant to prove I could have him without losing any of my carefully constructed power.
Instead I'd admitted I wanted him. Offered him freedom. Given him the power to walk away.
