"I'm so proud of you," I said, pushing him down onto the mattress. "Your article. Your award. All of it."
"Show me." His eyes were dark with want. "Show me how proud you are."
I did.
I worshipped every inch of his skin, taking my time, making him gasp and writhe beneath me. Told him in detail exactly what I loved about him—his intelligence, his integrity, his stubborn refusal to compromise his principles.
"You're brilliant," I murmured against his throat. "Talented. Strong. Everything I never knew I needed."
"Luca—"
"And you're mine." I bit down on his shoulder, marking him. "Mine in ways that have nothing to do with coercion or control. You chose this. Chose me. Chose us."
"I did choose you." His hands fisted in my hair. "I choose you every day."
I made love to him slowly, thoroughly, showing him without words how much he meant to me. How proud I was. How grateful I felt that he'd given me a chance to make this right.
After, we lay tangled together, both catching our breath.
"That was quite a celebration," Valentino said, sounding dazed.
"You deserved it."
"I deserve you being possessive and marking me up?"
"You deserve to know how much I love you. How proud I am. How much it means that you're here with me despite everything." I pulled him closer. "You won that award on your own. Proved your worth without me. That matters more than you know."
"It matters to me too." He pressed a kiss to my chest. "Thank you for understanding why I needed it."
"Always."
We fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, both content in ways we hadn't been a week ago. The FBI threat still hung over us. Reeves was still building his case. The danger hadn't disappeared.
But we'd built something real anyway. Something worth protecting.
The next morning, I woke to find Valentino already up, sitting at the dining table with his laptop and coffee, completely absorbed in work.
His books were on my shelves. His clothes were in my closet. His coffee mug sat next to mine in the kitchen.
He'd moved in. Made this space ours. Chosen to build a life with me despite the FBI, despite our complicated beginning, despite every reason to run.
I watched him work for a minute, this brilliant journalist who'd somehow chosen me, and felt gratitude so intense it was almost painful.
"Morning," I said, moving to pour myself coffee.
He looked up and smiled. "Morning. I was trying not to wake you."
"You didn't. I just woke up." I sat across from him. "Working already?"
"Following up on some sources. And—" He hesitated. "Starting to think about the next investigation."
"Independent of me again?"
"Always independent of you now. I need to keep proving I can do real work." He closed his laptop. "But also, I wanted to talk to you about something."
The seriousness in his tone made me alert. "Okay."
"Stefan and Julian mentioned that they could use media expertise for the legitimate business expansion. PR strategy, communications, that kind of thing."
