Jamie had never felt more exposed in his life.
Not at the club. Not even on his knees for strangers.
This was different. Because he wasn’t kneeling for a stranger anymore.
He was in Luca’s penthouse.
No mask.
No script.
Just him.
And Luca, in his usual silent and powerful way was watching.
Jamie sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, heart hammering. He felt the weight of every breath, every glance. The city lights glowed gold and silver behind the wide windows, casting faint shadows across the room.
Luca stood a few feet away, blazer gone, cuffs rolled up, dark eyes unreadable.
“You’re nervous,” he said softly.
Jamie licked his lips. “A little.”
“That’s good.” Luca stepped closer. “I want your nerves. I want your focus. This is not about performance. It’s about presence.”
Jamie
