The VIP lounge was quiet compared to the pulsing chaos downstairs.
Low jazz replaced the thundering bass, and the lights here were softer—golden enough to make even danger look beautiful.
Elijah could feel Luca's hand still warm on his hip, steady, almost… reassuring.
He hated that.
---
The man in the tailored suit—Mr. Virelli—poured himself a glass of whiskey and gestured for them to sit.
"So," Virelli said smoothly, "you two are looking for excitement?"
Luca didn't miss a beat. "Always. We hear this place has… the kind of games you don't find anywhere else."
Virelli's eyes lingered on them in a way that made Elijah want to squirm. Instead, he leaned back into Luca's side, forcing his hand to rest lightly on Luca's thigh.
Play the part.
Just play the part.
---
Virelli smirked. "I might have something for you. But I only deal with people I trust."
Luca smiled, slow and dangerous. "And how do we earn that?"
The man's gaze sharpened. "By proving you're not afraid to… perform in front of an audience."
Elijah froze, but Luca didn't flinch. He leaned closer to Elijah, his breath warm against his cheek.
"Can you handle this?" Luca murmured, low enough only Elijah could hear.
"Do I have a choice?" Elijah whispered back.
---
Luca tilted his head, brushing his nose against Elijah's temple. "No. But if it helps—pretend I'm not me."
"Not sure that's possible," Elijah muttered.
Before he could protest further, Luca's hand slid up to cup his jaw, tilting his face until their lips were dangerously close.
Every instinct screamed at Elijah to shove him away. But Virelli was watching, waiting.
If they broke the illusion now, they were dead.
So Elijah didn't move.
---
The world seemed to slow—the low hum of music, the faint clink of ice in a glass, Luca's eyes locking on his.
He smelled the faint smoke of Luca's cologne, felt the press of his fingers, the heat between them.
Luca leaned in, close enough that Elijah could feel the ghost of his lips brushing his own—then whispered, "Now."
It wasn't about the kiss.
It was the distraction.
While Virelli's attention was locked on them, Elijah's free hand slipped the small bug under the edge of the table. A single click confirmed it was live.
---
Luca pulled back slowly, smirking like he'd just tasted victory.
Virelli clapped once, amused. "Convincing… very convincing. I think I like you two."
"Glad to hear it," Luca said smoothly, though Elijah could see the shadow of tension in his jaw.
The man raised his glass. "You'll hear from me soon."
---
When they finally left the club, the cold night air hit Elijah like a punch. He shoved his hands in his pockets, walking ahead.
"You didn't have to—" Elijah started.
"Yes, I did," Luca cut in. "Or we'd both be lying in that VIP lounge with bullets in our skulls."
Elijah stopped, turning toward him. "You're too good at this act."
Luca's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Maybe it's not all acting."
Before Elijah could answer, Luca was already walking ahead, the night swallowing his silhouette.