Luca Steele
“Do you believe in love?”
I paused, fingers hovering over my keyboard, mid-email.
Nova sat on the small couch in the corner of my office, legs crossed, laptop open but clearly ignored. Her phone was in her hand, her brows pulled together like she was seriously pondering the question.
I raised an eyebrow. “Why are you asking?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m doing this dumb Facebook game. You know, those random quizzes? It asked if I believe in love, so now I’m asking you.”
I blinked. “You’re in here, in my office, using your work hours to play Facebook games?”
She gave me a sheepish smile. “I already submitted my reports. I’m multitasking.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
She grinned. “You love it.”
She wasn’t wrong. Nova had been… helpful. Actually, way more than helpful. My nightmares weren’t gone, but whenever I had one, she’d end up in my room, sitting next to me, telling some fairy tale about rebellious princesses and sarcastic princes.
They sucked. Horribly. But I’d be lying if I said they didn’t calm me down.
“So?” she asked again, looking up from her phone. “Do you believe in love?”
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossing over my chest. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?” I deflected.
She smirked. “Because I’m your wife and I need to know.”
I laughed once, low and dry. “You’re my business wife. Legally signed and sealed, yes, but this isn’t some romantic honeymoon, Nova. This is a merger. You’re not my wife-wife.”
She rolled her eyes, dramatically huffing. “You’re so annoying. Just answer the question properly.”
I looked at her for a moment. Then I sighed and said, “Even though I saw love—my parents, they were madly in love—I’ve never felt it for myself. I’ve had… flings. Hookups. One-night stands. That’s it.”
She tilted her head. “So? That doesn’t mean you can’t still believe in it.”
I shook my head. “It was always hit and run. Fuck and go. No strings. No staying. That’s how it worked for me.”
She blinked at me, surprised at how blunt I was. But she didn’t look away.
“I’ve never… fallen in love,” I admitted. “I don’t even know what it feels like. Everyone talks about it like it’s fireworks, or butterflies, or some shit like that. But I don’t get it. I’ve never had it.”
Nova stared at me quietly for a second. Then she said softly, “You want to know what love feels like?”
I raised a brow. “Go ahead, enlighten me.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her voice dropped, like she was revealing something she didn’t say often.
“Love feels like safety,” she said. “It feels like knowing someone will catch you when you fall. It feels like laughter in the middle of a breakdown. Like someone holding your hand when the world goes quiet. Like someone choosing you over and over—even on the days you don’t deserve it.”
I didn’t say anything.
She continued, “Love feels like home. Not the place. The person. Like you can finally breathe. Even when everything else is falling apart, you look at them and think, at least I have you.”
I was quiet. Staring at her. Letting her words sink in. I’d never felt that. None of it.
I shook my head slowly. “No. I’ve never felt that before.”
Nova looked down at her phone again, but she wasn’t really reading anything.
She let out a soft, almost sad laugh. Then looked up at me and said,
“Well… damn.”
I looked at her, confused. “What?”
She met my eyes, and her voice was low—barely a whisper.
“Your life must be so… lonely.”
The room went completely still.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out.
She just sat there, quiet now, her words hanging in the air like a truth I couldn’t argue with.
30
