Chapter 7

They walked side by side in silence toward the elevator, the heels of her shoes clicking softly on the polished floor.

Inside the elevator, Luca turned toward her. “Last night… you didn’t have to say what you did.”

She met his eyes. “I know.”

“I’m not sure how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to. But I need to know one thing.”

He waited.

“Is this going to be a problem?”

His throat went tight. “What do you mean?”

She lifted one eyebrow. “You and my brother.”

Luca flinched. “There’s nothing between us.”

Serena studied him. “There’s something. Whether it lasts or not, that’s your business. But I need to know if it’s going to jeopardize what we’re building.”

Luca hesitated.

This wasn’t a real relationship. It was a business pact. A power play. But the way she said we gave him pause.

“I won’t let it get in the way,” he said.

She nodded. “Good. Because if you start slipping, they’ll notice. My father. Yours. The board. Everyone. You think you can afford to be reckless, but you can’t. Not with someone like Asher.”

He looked at her sharply. “What does that mean?”

Serena’s lips parted, but then she shook her head. “Nothing. Just… be careful. You might think he’s impulsive and wild, but he’s been through more than you realize. He’s not like the rest of us.”

Luca stared at her. “You’re protecting him.”

“I’m warning you.”

The prenup meeting was long, dry, and clinical exactly the way love wasn’t.

Luca signed pages without blinking. Everything from asset clauses to public behavior guidelines. The marriage would be highly visible. And strictly on message.

There was a clause about social media.

A clause about children.

A clause about discretion.

Luca paused when he reached it, “Both parties agree to avoid conduct that would bring disrepute or scandal to the Virelli or Hartwell names, including but not limited to extramarital affairs, same sex entanglements, or unbecoming public behavior…”

He felt a chill as he set his pen down.

Serena watched him but didn’t interrupt.

He signed anyway.

...................

Asher didn’t show up at dinner that night.

The long table in the formal dining room felt even more hollow than usual.

Luca barely ate. His father was in a good mood, gloating over the way the engagement was trending on financial blogs, pleased with the performance Luca had delivered in front of the investors.

“You’ve finally stopped embarrassing me,” Paolo said, raising a glass.

Luca didn’t raise his.

Serena smoothly changed the subject.

But the praise felt like acid on his skin.

Later, Luca found himself wandering.

He told himself he was checking on the event staff. On security. On whatever excuse came to mind.

But he knew what he was looking for.

Asher.

He found him on the rooftop terrace.

Leaning against the glass railing, cigarette in hand, eyes on the skyline.

The wind tousled his hair. He hadn’t heard Luca yet.

So Luca stood there a moment, just… watching him.

And wanting.

Then Asher spoke without turning around. “You’re late.”

Luca’s breath caught. “You knew I’d come.”

“No,” Asher said, exhaling smoke. “But I hoped you would.”

Luca moved to stand beside him. Close, but not quite touching.

Asher glanced at him. “So what’s the plan? Back to pretending?”

Luca swallowed. “Yes.”

Asher’s jaw flexed. He nodded once, looking back at the city.

“But…” Luca hesitated. “I wanted to explain.”

Asher laughed softly. “What’s there to explain? You kissed me. Then you signed a contract to marry my sister. Case closed.”

Luca looked down. “It wasn’t just a kiss.”

“No,” Asher said. “It wasn’t.”

Silence.

Luca finally whispered, “She knows.”

Asher turned to him, stunned. “Serena?”

He nodded. “She’s not angry. She’s just… resigned.”

“Jesus.”

“She’s not stupid,” Luca added. “And she doesn’t care who I’m with, as long as I don’t mess up the optics. We’re both just… surviving.”

Asher shook his head. “That’s bleak, man.”

Luca gave a small, sad smile. “That’s life.”

Another long silence.

Then Asher said, “So what now? You keep kissing me in secret until one of us snaps?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because I won’t be your dirty secret, Luca. I won’t be your escape.”

“I don’t want that.”

“Then what do you want?”

Luca looked at him, really looked.

“I want something real. Just one thing in my life that isn’t fake. And I think… I think it’s you.”

Asher’s face softened.

But his voice was still cautious. “Then don’t lie to me. Not even once. Because once you start lying, everything falls apart.”

Luca nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Asher didn’t sleep that night.

Even after Luca left the rooftop, Asher sat alone on the railing’s edge, a cigarette burning to the filter between his fingers.

He hated the way his chest felt.

Not full. Not light.

Heavy, like he was carrying someone else’s secret.

Don’t lie to me. Not even once.

But what if Luca was already lying to himself?

Asher crushed the cigarette in the ashtray and stood.

If he stayed out here any longer, he’d start believing in hope.

The next morning was brutal.

Sunlight streamed through the massive windows of the estate like it owned the place, and Asher regretted not sneaking out the night before. But the Hartwells had planned a press brunch, the kind of soft launch PR moment that invited select media under the guise of casual celebration.

And unfortunately for Asher, family members were expected to attend.

He showed up late.

Hair damp from a too fast shower, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, shirt wrinkled like he didn’t care.

Luca was already there, sitting beside Serena, the golden couple perfectly lit in front of the tall windows. Photographers buzzed around like flies, taking advantage of the “candid” angles.

Asher leaned against a pillar at the back of the room.

And watched.

Luca looked… trained. His smiles, his posture, even the way he held his champagne glass, all of it was performance.

But when his eyes flicked across the room and found Asher, something slipped.

Just for a moment.

His grip tightened. His jaw flexed.

Asher almost smiled.