After dinner, we cleaned up and moved to the couch. Valentino curled against my side and I wrapped my arm around him.
"I watched you today," I said. "At the legal meeting. The way you analyzed everything, asked questions, saw connections. You were brilliant."
"I was doing my job. Or my former job, I guess."
"You were more than that. You were strong. Focused. Refusing to be defeated." I turned to look at him. "You're incredible, Valentino. You know that?"
"I don't feel incredible. I feel terrified and exhausted."
"You can be both." I kissed him. "Terrified and exhausted and still incredible."
He kissed me back, deeper, needing the connection. When we broke apart, his eyes were dark with want.
"I need you," he said quietly. "Need to feel something other than fear."
"I need you too."
We moved to the bedroom, both of us needing this. Needing to feel wanted and loved despite everything falling apart around us.
I undressed him slowly, taking my time. Two weeks of stress and fear and pressure—we needed this to be different. Needed it to be about more than release.
"You're so beautiful," I said, running my hands over his skin. "Every time I look at you, I can't believe you're real. That you chose me."
"I chose you." He pulled me down for a kiss. "I'll keep choosing you."
I made love to him slowly, worshipping every inch of him. Showing him without words how much he meant. How grateful I was that he'd stayed. How much I loved him despite—or maybe because of—everything we were facing.
"Luca—" His voice broke as I moved inside him. "God, I love you."
"I love you too. So much. Everything—the trial, the charges, none of it changes that."
"Promise?"
"I promise. You're everything to me."
We moved together, both of us emotional and desperate and needing the connection. When we finally came apart, we were both shaking.
I held him after, neither of us wanting to let go. Both of us finding strength in each other that we couldn't find alone.
"We're going to survive this," I said into his hair.
"I know. We survived two weeks. We'll survive six months. However long it takes."
"Together."
"Always together."
We fell asleep tangled in each other, both exhausted but somehow more settled. The trial loomed ahead. The charges threatened everything. The media destroyed us daily.
But we had each other. And for tonight, that was enough.
CHAPTER 13: VALENTINO
THREE MONTHS AFTERour arrest, I sat in a conference room at the federal courthouse being interrogated by the prosecution.
"Mr. Russo, when did your relationship with Luca Romano begin?" The prosecutor was a woman in her forties, sharp-eyed and relentless.
"Approximately four months before our arrest."
