He clinked his glass against mine. "That's one way to put it."
"It's the truth."
We ordered food—tasting menu, wine pairings, the full experience. Valentino looked overwhelmed by each course but gradually relaxed into it. By the time dessert arrived, he waslaughing and telling stories about source interviews and the crazy process of tracking down school board records.
"The secretary tried to tell me the files didn't exist," he said, gesturing with his dessert fork. "But I knew they had to. So I filed a FOIL request and she suddenly 'found' them."
"Persistence pays off."
"In journalism? Always." He took a bite of dessert. "This is really good."
"Everything here is really good. That's why it costs a fortune."
"I still can't believe you're spending this much on dinner."
"I'd spend ten times this to see you this happy." I reached across the table for his hand. "You needed this win. Needed to prove to yourself that you're still a good journalist. That you didn't lose yourself in our complicated beginning."
"I did need it. But Luca—" He squeezed my hand. "I also needed you to be proud of me. To see that I can do legitimate work."
"I've always been proud of you. Even when I was trying to control you, I was impressed by your skill. Your dedication. Your refusal to compromise." I smiled. "You made me want to be better. Made me want to deserve you."
"You do deserve me."
"I'm trying to." I lifted his hand to kiss it. "But I know I started this all wrong. Know I hurt you and coerced you and did things I can't take back. This—you winning this award, proving your integrity is intact—it matters. For both of us."
"The beginning doesn't define us," he said quietly. "We get to choose what we become."
"And what are we becoming?"
"Something real. Something good. Something worth fighting for."
The words hit deep. "I love you."
"I love you too." He looked around the restaurant, at the expensive décor and the other wealthy diners. "Even though you insist on taking me to places like this where I feel completely out of my element."
"You'll get used to it."
"Will I? Or will I always be the Brooklyn journalist who's in over his head with the fancy mob boss?"
"Former mob boss. Transitioning to legitimate businessman, remember?"
"Right. How could I forget?" But he was smiling. "Take me home, Luca. I want to celebrate properly."
"We haven't had coffee yet."
"I don't want coffee. I want you." His voice dropped lower. "Take me home and show me how proud you are."
Heat coiled in my stomach. I signaled for the check immediately.
We made it back to the penthouse—our penthouse now—in record time.
The second the elevator doors closed behind us, Valentino was on me. Kissing me hard, hands in my hair, pressing me against the wall.
"Bed," I managed between kisses. "Let me take you to bed properly."
"Okay."
I led him to the bedroom, both of us shedding clothes as we went. By the time we reached the bed, we were down to underwear and flushed skin.
