"And if that doesn't work?" I asked.
"Then we prepare for trial." Emilio met my eyes. "But Luca, if it comes to that, you need to be prepared for the possibility that Valentino will need to distance himself. For his own protection."
Valentino's hand found mine under the table. "Together," he said quietly. "We do this together."
Emilio sighed but nodded. "Then we prepare for the fight. All of us."
The meeting went late into the night, strategizing and planning and preparing for what felt like an inevitable collision with federal prosecution.
But through it all, Valentino's hand stayed in mine. Steady. Sure. Choosing me even when the smart choice would be to run.
CHAPTER 9: VALENTINO
THE DRIVE BACKfrom Sandro's estate was silent except for the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of Luca's hand tightening on the steering wheel.
I stared out the window at Manhattan passing by in streaks of light, trying to process everything Emilio had said. Conspiracy charges. Obstruction. RICO for Luca. Reeves was building a case that would destroy both of us, and there was nothing we could do except prepare to fight.
"Talk to me." Luca's voice broke the silence. "You've been quiet since we left."
"Processing." I didn't look away from the window. "Trying to figure out how we got here."
"I know how we got here. I threatened you, coerced you, started this whole thing with control and intimidation." His voice was tight. "This is my fault."
"That's not what I meant." I finally turned to look at him. "I meant—how did we go from that beginning to this? To me sitting in a strategy meeting about federal conspiracy charges because I refused to flip on you?"
"You could still flip. Emilio said—"
"I'm not flipping. We already had this conversation." I reached for his hand on the gear shift. "I made my choice. I'm choosing you. Even if it means facing charges."
His hand turned, fingers threading through mine. "I don't want you to face charges because of me."
"Too late. We're in this together now." I squeezed his hand. "For better or worse, apparently."
We pulled into the parking garage under Luca's building—our building now, I reminded myself—and took the elevator up in continued silence. The weight of what we were facing pressed down on both of us.
Once inside the penthouse, I kicked off my shoes and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. "I need a drink."
"Me too."
I poured us both whiskey, neat, and we stood at the kitchen island drinking in silence. The alcohol burned going down but did nothing to ease the tension coiling in my chest.
"What if they arrest me?" The question came out quieter than I'd intended.
Luca set down his glass. "Then Emilio gets you out immediately. Bail, whatever it takes. You won't spend a night in custody."
"But what if they don't grant bail? What if Reeves convinces a judge I'm a flight risk or—"
"Valentino." Luca caught my face in his hands. "I won't let that happen. I have resources. Money. Influence. Whatever it takes to keep you safe."
"You can't control the FBI."
"No. But I can fight them. And I will. With everything I have." His eyes were dark with something fierce. "You're mine. I protect what's mine."
The possessiveness should have bothered me. Should have reminded me too much of the beginning, when control and ownership were weapons he used against me. But now, with federal charges looming, it just felt like safety.
"I'm scared," I admitted.
"So am I." He pulled me into his arms. "Terrified. Of losing you. Of watching Reeves destroy what we've built. Of not being able to protect you."
