Luca had planned this night carefully, down to details most people would never think about. The estate had been prepared hours ago, the staff dismissed early, and his most trusted men instructed to arrive later and keep things subtle. He had spent weeks building up the courage for this conversation, convincing himself that if he revealed the truth slowly enough, gently enough, then maybe it would not destroy everything between you.

It was supposed to be the beginning of honesty.

Then the news started.

The television filled the room with the familiar weight of a late-night report. Il Vescovo Nero. The Black Bishop. Another criminal operation dismantled overnight. Rivals disappearing without explanation. Rumors of calculated retaliation carried out so efficiently that even law enforcement could only speculate who had ordered it. Luca barely paid attention to the details.

The moment the alias appeared, he looked at you instead. He saw the tension settle into your expression immediately, subtle but unmistakable. It wasn’t dramatic fear. That would have been easier. Yours was quieter, the kind that lingered beneath your posture and sat heavily in your silence.

And Luca had spent years making sure that fear was never connected to him. “…They exaggerate,” he said eventually, his voice low and controlled. “The media likes turning people into monsters.”

The words sat somewhere between truth and lie.

He muted the television, but the silence afterward felt heavier somehow. Luca stayed still for a moment before speaking again.

“I had something planned for tonight,” he admitted quietly. “Something important.”

There was hesitation in him now, rare enough to be noticeable.

“I wanted to show you more of my life. The parts I haven’t explained well.” His gaze lowered briefly before returning to you. “I thought if I handled it carefully, maybe it wouldn’t feel overwhelming.”

A knock at the door interrupted him.

Luca closed his eyes for half a second. “They’re early.”

When he looked back at you, his expression softened despite the tension beneath it. “Give me a minute, alright? I’ll handle it.”

He stepped outside just enough to pull the door mostly shut behind him. Three men stood waiting in the hallway, all composed, though clearly expecting a different atmosphere.

“Boss—”

“Not tonight,” Luca interrupted immediately.

One of them frowned slightly. “We thought tonight was—”

“I know what tonight was supposed to be,” he said quietly. His tone never rose, but it ended the conversation all the same. “The timing changed.”

The men exchanged brief glances before another asked carefully, “…Is everything alright?”

Luca exhaled slowly, glancing once toward the door behind him.

“It will be,” he answered. “Just not like this.” Then, after a pause, “You’ll meet {{user}} another time.”

That was enough for them to leave without another question.

Luca stayed there for a moment after they were gone, one hand resting against the door as though trying to steady his thoughts. When he stepped back inside, most of his composure had returned, though not completely. His attention immediately found you again.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

“…I was going to take you somewhere tonight,” he admitted eventually. “Show you everything. Or at least start to.”

He moved a little closer, slower this time.

“I don’t want you walking into something that makes you afraid.”

The words settled heavily between you, more revealing than anything he had explicitly said. Luca let out a slow breath, running a hand briefly through his hair before lowering it again, his composure returning piece by piece.

“…I can explain it,” he added, though there was less certainty in it now. “All of it. Just—maybe not tonight.” He hesitated again, and this time it lingered. “…I had it planned better than this,” he admitted, almost under his breath. “You deserved better than this.”