The admission hit hard. "I'm not ashamed—"
"You should be. I coerced you. Threatened your career. Used power and control to get what I wanted." His voice was rough. "I'm trying to be someone different. But I need you to believe that's possible."
I turned to face him, studying his expression. Looking for lies or manipulation. But all I saw was honesty. Raw and uncomfortable and real.
"I want to believe it," I said quietly. "I want this to be real. But Luca—"
"What?"
I'd been holding this in for a week. Ever since that phone call the morning after our office encounter. I'd convinced myself I didn't owe him the information. That if he'd really given me freedom, I could choose what to share.
But if we were doing this—really doing this—I couldn't keep secrets.
"There's something I need to tell you," I said. "From last week."
His expression shifted. Became more alert. "Okay."
"The day after... your office. After we first..." I struggled with how to phrase it. "That Saturday. I got a phone call."
"From?"
"FBI Agent David Reeves."
Luca went very still. "When?"
"Saturday afternoon. The morning after we—after our first time." The words came out in a rush. "He said he wanted to meet. Asked about my recent work, specifically the Rodriguez exposé. Then asked if I had any professional relationship with the Vitale organization."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I have many sources. That I don't discuss my sources. That we could meet through official channels." I met his eyes. "I deflected. But he knows something. Or suspects something."
"And you're telling me this now? A week later?" His voice was controlled. Too controlled.
"I didn't know if I should tell you at all." The honesty felt like ripping off a bandage. "You'd just offered me freedom. SaidI could walk away. I didn't know if I owed you that information if I was actually free."
Luca turned away from me, gripping the balcony railing. I watched the muscles in his shoulders tense. Saw him processing. When he spoke again, his voice was tight.
"You sat on this for a week."
"Yes."
"While I was trying to prove I meant what I said about giving you a choice. While I was making my apartment welcoming and ordering your favorite food and trying to be someone you could trust." He turned back to me. "You were keeping this from me."
"I was protecting myself." My voice came out defensive. "I didn't know what telling you would mean. Didn't know if you'd use it as an excuse to take back the freedom you offered."
"Is that what you think of me?" His eyes were dark. Hurt. "That I'd use your honesty against you?"
"I don't know! We've been in a real relationship for approximately twelve hours. Forgive me for not knowing how to navigate this."
We stared at each other, the tension thick between us. The first real conflict in our tentative relationship and we were already stumbling through it.
Luca ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to get his emotions under control. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer.
"You're right. We're figuring this out. But Valentino—" He stepped closer. "If we're doing this, if we're really trying to build something, we have to tell each other things. Especially threats. The FBI investigating you is a threat to both of us."
"I know that now." I wrapped my arms around myself. "I was scared. Of what telling you would mean. Of what it would make me if I ran to you with information like some kind of informant."
"You're not an informant. You're—" He stopped. "What are we? To each other?"
