Page 24 of The Slug Crystal

Luca shrugs, his profile sharp against the softness of the evening. "Venice has a way of bringing people together again. The city is a maze, but a small one." He turns to me, a half-smile playing on his lips. "And if not, is my company so terrible?"

I laugh, surprising myself with how genuine it sounds. "I'm just worried about Jake. He's probably having a conniption thinking I've lost Alex in a canal."

"The terrarium looks secure enough," Luca says, glancing at the glass box where Alex is exploring a fresh piece of lettuce I tucked in as we wandered by a street vendor. "And Jake strikes me as a man who can handle himself, even in a foreign country."

I nod, watching a gondola glide silently beneath us, the passengers' faces upturned to take in the bridge and the buildings beyond. "This place is unreal," I murmur. "Like something from a dream."

"It is special," Luca agrees, turning to rest his elbows on the railing beside me. "I used to come here as a child. My father has business associates here. He has business associates everywhere." There's a slight edge to his voice when he mentions his father, a tightness around his eyes.

"Do you not get along with your father?" I ask.

He's quiet for a moment, watching the water.

"My family is... complicated. Very traditional, very wealthy.

Very certain about what a Bianchi son should do with his life.

" He runs a hand through his coiffed, dark hair, and I notice how the gesture loosens something in him, makes him look younger.

"My father wanted me to run the family business.

Import-export, investments, property management, all boring stuff that makes lots of money. "

"But you wanted to fly," I say softly.

His smile returns, genuine this time, lighting his eyes.

"Yes. Always. Since I was eight, and my uncle took me up in his small plane for the first time.

The freedom of it..." He trails off, shaking his head.

"How do you explain to someone who has never flown a plane what it feels like to break away from the ground?

To rise above everything that seems so important and permanent, and see how small it really is? "

I watch his face as he talks, the way his shoulders relax and his hands move more freely.

The tension that usually hovers around him, the calculated charm, and the careful distance, falls away.

In its place is passion, pure and unguarded.

It transforms him from merely handsome to something luminous.

"So, you left them behind," I say. "Your family, the business."

He nods. "Not all at once. First, it was flying lessons as a hobby.

Then a pilot's license, for convenience.

Then chartered flights for my father's associates, which he approved of because it saved the company money.

" His mouth quirks in a half-smile. "But eventually I had to choose.

Live the life they planned for me, or live my own. "

"That takes courage," I say, thinking of my own life, the safe choices I've made, the risks I've avoided. Except, of course, for the spell that turned Alex into a snail. But that was not so much courage as reckless impulse there.

Luca turns to face me fully, his gray eyes searching mine. "It wasn't courage. More necessity. Some people can compromise who they are. I couldn't." He pauses, then adds more softly, "I think perhaps you understand that."

Something shifts between us, the conversation turning from casual to intimate in the space of a breath.

I'm suddenly very aware of how close we're standing.

How the mist rising from the still water beneath the bridge has left tiny droplets in his dark hair.

How his cologne, something woody and expensive, mingles with the scent of the canal and the distant aroma of festival food.

"I don't know if I do," I admit. "Understand it, I mean. I've never had to make a choice like that."

"Haven't you?" His gaze drops to the terrarium, then back to my face. "You're here, in Venice, chasing a witch to fix a magical problem. That's not exactly playing it safe."

I laugh nervously. "That's less courage and more cleaning up my own mess."

"Perhaps," he concedes, his voice dropping lower. "But you could have given up. Left the snail as a snail. You didn't."

The accordion music swells, carried on a breeze that ruffles my hair. Luca reaches out, tucking the wavy, chestnut strand behind my ear with a gentleness that makes my breath catch. His hand lingers, warm against my cheek.

"I find that admirable," he murmurs. "And intriguing."

Before I can respond, he takes my free hand, the one not clutching Alex's terrarium, and lifts it to his lips.

The kiss he places on my knuckles is feather-light, a touch of old-world charm in a modern setting.

But there's nothing performative about the way his eyes hold mine, nothing casual in the slight pressure of his thumb against my wrist.

He doesn't push further, doesn't lean in for more. Instead, he lowers my hand but keeps it in his, our fingers intertwining as naturally as if we'd held hands a hundred times before.

The moment feels suspended, crystalline.

Behind him, lantern light catches in his eyes, turning them from gray to silver.

I should step back, put distance between us.

I have enough complications in my life without adding another man to the mix.

But I don't move, captured by the warmth of his hand and the quiet intensity of his gaze.

In the quiet bubble of this bridge, with Venice spread around us like a fairy tale come to life, it's too easy to forget why we're here.

Too easy to imagine this is just a romantic getaway, not a desperate mission to fix my magical mistake.

Too easy to lean into the connection forming between us, fragile but undeniable.

The spell is broken only by a burst of laughter from a passing group of tourists, reminding me that we're not alone. That time is still moving forward, and somewhere in this labyrinthine city, Jake, Marco, and Ben are looking for us.

Like my thoughts summon him, I spot Jake.

Before he sees us, I notice his dripping silhouette at the far end of the bridge, scanning the streets with the focused intensity of a search dog.

His hair is plastered to his forehead, his t-shirt clinging to his chest, water streaming from his jeans onto the stone beneath him.

When his eyes lock onto us, his expression shifts from relief to something harder as he registers Luca's hand still entwined with mine.

I step back instinctively, breaking the contact, and it's only then that I notice Jake is carrying something. It’s Alex's terrarium, the glass foggy with condensation but intact.

My hand flies to the stone railing beside me, where I'd set the terrarium down just moments ago, while massaging a cramp in my arm. The space is empty.

"Oh my god," I breathe, heart lurching into my throat. "Jake, what happened?"

He strides toward us, each step leaving a wet footprint on the ancient stone. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see a muscle jumping beneath his skin.

"Alex was in the water," he says, voice clipped. "I saw his terrarium floating in the canal a block up. I had to jump in to get it."

The canal beneath us isn't deep, but it's murky with centuries of silt and who knows what else. The thought of Jake diving in headfirst sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the evening chill.

"You jumped into the canal?" I ask, reaching for the terrarium. "For Alex?"

Jake's eyes flick to Luca, then back to me. "For you," he says simply, handing over the box with more force than necessary. Water from his sleeve drips onto my wrist. "Figured losing your ex-boyfriend to the Venice sewer system wasn't part of the plan. "

I peer anxiously into the terrarium. There’s a light layer of liquid dampening everything, but it appears otherwise unharmed. Alex has retreated into his shell, probably traumatized by his near-death experience. But his shell is intact, its blue spiral as vibrant as ever against the damp substrate.

"Thank you," I say, meeting Jake's eyes. "Seriously, Jake. That was..." I trail off, not sure how to express the mix of gratitude and guilt churning in my stomach.

"No big deal," he says with a shrug that's too stiff to be casual. "What are friends for, right?"

Luca clears his throat. "That was impressive," he says, extending a hand to Jake. "Quick thinking. Not many would dive into a Venetian canal without hesitation."

Jake looks at Luca's outstretched hand, then at his own dripping clothes, as if to say I'm too wet for handshakes. But we all know that's not the real reason he leaves Luca hanging.

"I'm sure you would have done the same," Jake says, and though his words are polite, there's an edge beneath them sharp enough to cut glass. "If you hadn't been... occupied."

The implication hangs between them, as tangible as the mist in the air. Luca's easy smile falters, just for a second, before he recovers and drops his hand to his side.

"Perhaps," he concedes. "Though I doubt I would have spotted it in time. You have good eyes."

"I notice things," Jake says, gaze sliding pointedly to the space between Luca and me, now wider than it was moments ago. "It's a habit."

I clutch the terrarium closer, fighting the urge to step between them like a referee. The tension crackles, thick enough that even the couples around us seem to sense it, casting curious glances our way as they pass.

"Jake," I start, not sure what I'm going to say, but knowing I need to say something. "I didn't realize I'd put him down or that he’d fallen?— "

"It's fine," he interrupts, not looking at me. "He's safe. That's what matters."