"Deal." He smiled. "Stubborn."
"You like that about me."
"I love that about you." The words came out casually but landed with weight.
We both froze. Luca's eyes widened slightly, like he hadn't meant to say it quite like that. I stared at him, processing.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "That came out more intense than I meant. I just—"
"It's okay." I set down my coffee. "I know what you meant."
"Do you?"
Did I? Did I know that Luca Romano was falling for me? That this had moved past control and possession into something deeper?
Looking at him across the table—vulnerable and uncertain and so different from The Architect—I thought maybe I did.
"Yeah," I said softly. "I think I do."
Relief washed over his face. He reached across the table and caught my hand. We sat there for a moment, just holding handsover breakfast, and it felt more intimate than anything we'd done in his bedroom.
"Stay today," Luca said. "Please. Don't go home yet."
"I have to eventually. I have work, my apartment—"
"I know. But stay after breakfast. Stay for a few hours. Let me have this." His thumb traced circles on my hand. "Let me pretend this is normal for a little while longer."
The raw want in his voice undid me. "Okay. I'll stay."
We finished breakfast and moved to the living room. Luca put on music—more jazz, something instrumental and soothing. We sat on the couch together, my back against his chest, his arms wrapped around me. Just existing together.
It felt domestic. Safe. Like this was something we did all the time instead of a tentative experiment in being together.
"Can I ask you something?" I said after a while.
"Anything."
"The boxing photo. The one I found from twelve years ago. You looked so different."
"I was different. Angrier. Hungrier. Desperate in ways I'm not anymore." His arms tightened around me. "That version of me would have terrified you."
"More than the version who threatened me in my kitchen?"
"Yes. That version of me had nothing to lose. Would have burned everything down to get what he wanted." His voice was quiet. "The persona is controlled. Calculated. But that younger version? He was chaos barely contained."
"What changed?"
"Sandro. The organization. Learning that control is more effective than violence." He paused. "And therapy, though don't tell the others I said that."
I twisted to look at him. "You're in therapy?"
"Was. For years. Sandro insisted after I nearly beat someone to death for looking at me wrong." He met my eyes. "I have angerissues. Or had. I've learned to manage them. But they're still there."
The honesty was startling. The persona would never admit to something that could be seen as weakness. But Luca was just... telling me. Trusting me with the truth.
"Thank you for telling me that."
"If we're doing this, you should know. I'm not just charming and controlled. I have darkness in me. Violence. Anger that doesn't always have an appropriate outlet." His hands moved to my shoulders. "But I would never hurt you. That's important to me that you know that."
