Luka’s eyes sparked with something—not offense, but a weary kind of solidarity. “We’re working on the moon next, but the branding rights are tricky.”
I paused.We’re.
“Oops—sorry,” Sienna’s voice cut in as she shoved past me, her shoulder catching mine with enough force to make me stumble.
She didn't even look my way; her entire being was vibrating toward the guy in front of me. She looked like a different person than she had in the lecture hall—gone was the academic pretense, replaced by a thirsty, desperate sort of charm.
“Luka, tell Dom I’ll see him at the house later? He’s beenterribleabout answering my texts.”
Luka’s posture went slightly rigid, the friendliness in his face shuttering into a polite, neutral expression. It was the face of someone used to dealing with people who wanted things from him. “I’ll… let him know you said hi.”
She sauntered off, her heels clicking a triumphant rhythm against the polished floor as if she’d just marked her territory. I watched her go, then looked back at him, my brow furrowing as the pieces started to swirl together.
“What’s her deal?” I asked, gesturing toward her retreating back. “Is she auditioning for a permanent spot on the Valerio payroll?”
Luka didn't answer immediately. Instead, he let out a long, slow exhale through his nose and reached up to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders dropping an inch. It wasn't the look of someone who liked the attention; it was the weary slump of a guy who’d been used as a message board one too many times.
“She’s been trying to work her way into the orbit for years, but it’s only seemed to finally materialize the last month or so,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as he watched her disappear around a stack of floral arrangements. He didn't sound flattered; he sounded tired. “The problem with orbiting the sun is that eventually, you just get burned up. Or ignored. Usually both.”
I studied him more closely now. He had a kindness in his eyes that felt out of place in this building, a grounded quality that didn't match the frantic, shiny energy of everyone else wearing a volunteer lanyard. “You sound like you’ve had a front-row seat to the wreckage. You his assistant or something?”
He offered a lopsided smile—one that carried a heavy sort of irony. He shifted the box back to one arm and stuck out a hand. “Something like that. It’s hard to avoid the gravity when you share the DNA. I’m Luka Valerio.”
The name hit me like a physical shove. I froze, my hand halfway to his.
I looked at him again, really looked at him this time, and the pieces clicked into place. The dark hair, the familiar line of the jaw—it was there, just softened, stripped of the weaponized arrogance that defined his brother.
“You’re Dominic’s brother?”
Luka’s hand stayed out, but his smile faltered just enough to let a flicker of something sharp through. He tilted his head, studying my reaction. “What’s that tone? You sound disappointed. Am I the 'budget' version? The loser brother who doesn't have the built-in hype?”
The sudden edge in his voice caught me off guard, but I didn't flinch. I wasn't about to start apologizing for having eyes.
“Actually,” I said, finally taking his hand and giving it a firm, grounded shake, “I was thinking you seemed suspiciously human compared to the masterpiece of arrogance I’ve come across recently. I didn't know the Valerios produced anything with a pulse that wasn't calibrated for a podium.”
Luka blinked, the defensive tension in his shoulders snapping. He let out a surprised, genuine bark of a laugh. “Suspiciously human. Not the worst reputation to have.”
“I'm serious,” I added, letting go of his hand. “You’re the first person with that last name I’ve met who hasn't tried to make me feel like I’m breathing their air by mistake.”
“Unfortunately,” he confirmed, his grin turning more relaxed, “I’m the second child. The one with hardware store-level horsepower compared to the supercharged dynasty. I’m thespare who actually shows up to class and offers to help fold his own laundry.”
I shook his hand, my brain re-mapping the hallway at the estate. I hadn't seen a single photo of him on those achievement walls. Not one. In a house where only prizes were worth displaying, I guess a son who didn't race was basically invisible.
“I didn't realize he had a brother on campus,” I said, my voice softer than I intended.
“Dominic lasted one semester before the podiums in Europe called his name and took priority,” Luka shrugged, though there was a flick of something sharp in the gesture. “He’s twenty-one and ‘busy.’ I’m nineteen and apparently the only one capable of folding a brochure without a pit crew.”
I let out a slow laugh, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. “That sounds… incredibly exhausting.”
“It is,” he agreed warmly. “But hey, at least I get to work with someone who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else. It’s refreshing.”
I grinned. “Actually, I was thinking about how much I’d like to avoid your brother for the rest of my natural life, but you’re far too nice to be lumped into that.”
He clutched his chest, a genuine spark returning to his eyes. “A Valerio you don’t instinctively want to assault? I’ll take it. That’s a win in my book.”
He gestured to a stack of ribbons and glue guns. “Want to help me build the world’s fanciest swag bags? It’s either that or power cord duty, and duct tape and I are currently in a legal dispute.”
I rolled up my sleeves, feeling a strange, unexpected pull toward the ‘other’ Valerio. “Show me the glue guns, Luka. Let’s ruin some ribbon.”
