16. Chapter 16
16
Elyse was elated to reunite with Alessandro, but the battlefield between the clans had only intensified during her time in New York. Danger was everywhere, rife in the air, like the cold in winter, invisible to the eye but undeniable to other senses. She could feel it prickling across her skin, chilling her to the bone. Returning to Sicily felt like stepping back into a prison cell after being handed the key.Elyse couldn’t help kicking herself a little.
Shortly after landing in Palermo, Alessandro escorted her to one of their villas outside city limits. A problem needed to be resolved. Elyse was told to bring her Glock and medical supplies. On the drive over, she glanced down at her handgun and stethoscope, and a realization hit hard. She was Signora Vitale . But she was also Dr. Romero. There was no need to choose anymore. It was possible to excel as both Signora Vitale and Dr. Romero.
Inside the cramped villa, Elyse followed Alessandro, Monte, and Luca up the stairs to a small guest room. Upon entering, her gaze locked on to the frail, gray-haired man who was laying in bed.
Right away, she recognized him from Vincenzo’s funeral. Father Boselli was a tragic sight to behold. The elderly priest's eyes were swollen shut. Nasty gashes and bruises marred his body everywhere. A hum of despair seemed to radiate from his entire being.
"He still won't talk?" Elyse asked Alessandro under her breath.
Alessandro clenched his jaw in frustration. " No ."
"Why don't you all step outside for a few minutes? Let me handle it."
Alessandro side-eyed her. Uncertainty clouded his face. "I feel like I should stay with you."
Elyse's expression hardened with determination. "No, you go. You will only terrify the poor man even more. "
"I see," Alessandro grunted with displeasure. "You have your gun?"
Her Glock was safely holstered beneath her camel-colored trench coat. She nodded. "I do."
"Good girl."
Elyse wasn't planning to use it, though. The injured priest needed medical attention. Not more threats of violence.
Her husband made a gesture for Monte and Luca to follow him outside.
"Call if you need me," Alessandro murmured to her as he left. "I will be right outside."
"Of course."
The three men left the room in a clamor of footsteps. The door closed behind them. Then, there were two. Elyse looked at the priest. He gazed back at her. The man still looked very afraid.
She tried to assure him, "I'm a doctor, and I’ve come to help you."
The priest didn't offer a response. He only eyed her with distrust as she got to work, cleaning his wounds, and bandaging him up. As Father Boselli watched her work, some of his fear seemed to ease, but leeriness lingered on his face.
Elyse removed a thick leather-bound book from her purse. She placed it on the end table by his bedside. "For you, Father."
Father Boselli's eyes drifted over to the Bible, he said nothing, and Elyse didn't press him for more. It was too soon. Elyse knew the man had already suffered enough trauma. She didn't want to add to his stress.
According to Alessandro, Father Boselli had been found in a nearby motel a few days prior. Valentina was the one who located the priest. She’d traded him in for her mother's freedom. In the motel, the poor man had been beaten and tormented and confined under lock and key.
For now, Father Boselli needed to rest. He needed to recover first before they could talk. In gentle tones, Elyse said, "I'll be back later this afternoon to check on you."
Elyse left the villa with her husband and their bodyguards and returned to care for Father Boselli in this professional, dutiful manner over the next couple of days. During this time, he continued to give her the silent treatment. But Elyse didn’t mind. Words weren’t always necessary. She took this opportunity to observe him in other ways. Father Boselli appeared to be a real man of the cloth. Even in his obvious state of distress and pain, he still prayed seven times a day. The Bible she’d gifted him rarely left his hands .
Elyse sensed that he was studying her as well. By the fourth morning, the priest no longer tensed up in Elyse's presence. Father Boselli appeared to be more comfortable around her.
"I'm happy to see that you're making such a quick recovery, Father," Elyse remarked.
"It is thanks to you," the priest muttered.
His reply gave her pause. These were the first words she’d heard him utter in four whole days. Was he starting to trust her? Elyse tried to keep her excitement at bay. She needed to proceed with caution. One wrong move, and he might clam up again. For a godly man like Father Boselli, Elyse decided that a sincere approach would be the best way to draw him out of his shell.
"You shouldn’t thank me," Elyse murmured, "because I'm part of the reason why you were targeted in the first place."
Father Boselli's brown eyes grew round with panic. "Please do not misunderstand, Signora Vitale , I do not blame you for anything."
"Don’t worry, I know you’re innocent. If anything, I blame myself for bringing you into this mess."
The priest's expression pinched with caution. "You do not intend to threaten me for information?"
"No."
"I thought you were helping me for all the wrong reasons."
What he left unsaid made her feel sick. The priest had been assuming she was only healing his body so that he could be hurt again. Father Boselli must have been thinking the very worst of her these past few days.
"I used to be a surgeon before I married my husband," Elyse shared, "I promise you, I take the Hippocratic Oath very seriously."
"Ah," Father Boselli grunted as understanding lit up his aged features, "so you are an outsider."
"In a way, yes."
Her Graviano blood suggested otherwise, but she didn't feel the need to bring it up at the moment.
"I was wondering why you seemed different from your husband and his men."
"Please don't be so quick to judge my husband," Elyse implored quietly. "I don't know if you're aware, but Alessandro was the one who saved you from the fire at Vincenzo Vitale’s funeral."
She’d helped move the priest's body to the opening at the window, of course, but, in truth, Alessandro did most of the heavy lifting.
Surprise flickered in the priest's brown eyes. "What?"
"My husband is nothing like the person who has been harassing you," she murmured. "If you're willing to trust us, we can help you. We can save you. Again ."
Her words seemed to chip away at Father Boselli's fear, instilling him with a speck of confidence. Tentatively, he asked, "What do you want in return?"
"A name," Elyse responded. "I need to know who set the roof on fire at the church. Tell me who wants us dead."
In low, distressed tones, Father Boselli whimpered, "But I will be killed if I speak up."
"My husband will find them before they harm you."
Father Boselli smiled tightly. "I am sure your husband is a capable man, but I only place my faith in God."
Elyse picked up on the meaning tucked within his words. Apparently, whoever was terrorizing the priest seemed to intimidate him more than Alessandro. Who was this nameless, faceless fucker?
Elyse's mind spun with names and faces. Valentina's drunken almost admission popped up instantly.
I know Car—
Her attention snapped back to the priest. "Your faith in God is admirable, Father, but I can't help but wonder..."
He glanced her way with a question in his eyes. "What is it, Signora Vitale?"
She went on to test him, rattling off a list of names to gauge his reaction for each one. "Is your faith in God is greater than your fear of Carmen Vitale—"
Bewilderment marred his face at the mention of Cara's name.
"Or Cara Berlusconi—"
His confusion seemed to deepen.
"Or Carlo Moretti?"
Right then, the priest's complexion paled noticeably. "I-I do not understand why you are asking me about these individuals..."
At last, a reaction of sorts. Father Boselli looked visibly shaken. But why? Carlo was dead. Why would the priest fear a ghost? Unless his tormentor was Carlo's heir to the clan? As always, Malina had been the one who’d relayed this detail to her. Following Italian tradition, Carlo's grandson had been named after him. His name was Carlo, too.
Elyse's eyes narrowed keenly. "Are you afraid of the Morettis, Father?"
"Why would I fear the Morettis? I-I have no ties to them."
Father Boselli's words seemed to be at odds with the terror on his face.
This prompted Elyse to run through a new theory. It seemed possible that the late Carlo Moretti had coerced Father Boselli into helping him set up the first fire at the funeral. It also seemed possible that the younger Carlo Moretti was now trying to cover up his grandfather's crime by threatening Father Boselli to keep his mouth shut.
"Is Carlos's grandson the one who’s threatening you?"
The priest shook his head nervously. "No, no, of course not!"
To Elyse, his denial sounded too adamant to be taken at face value.
Four days ago, on the ride home from the airport, Alessandro had updated Elyse on all that she missed during her time away. He informed her that his men found no trace of the Morettis' culpability— or any of the other clans, for that matter —in Father Boselli's motel room, so, despite the priest's strong reaction to Carlo Moretti’s name, Elyse wasn't sure if there was enough of a connection to form concrete conclusions.
But it was her only lead so far. Elyse pressed on, "I don't know if I believe you."
"Please, Signora Vitale , I do not wish to talk about the Morettis anymore."
As though the two of them were playing a round of poker, she decided to bluff and go all in, "I already know you're guilty. You helped the late Carlo Moretti set up the fire in the church, and his grandson is threatening you to keep quiet."
Her gamble paid off. Guilt flashed across Father Boselli's face. "I—"
Silence hung between them as tensions stretched to unbearable lengths. Elyse nudged him some more, "You might as well come clean. You're safer with us than with the Morettis. Don't forget who left your body in the burning church and who pulled you out of it."
A few more seconds ticked by before Father Boselli finally broke down, "You are right, Signora Vitale , I... am guilty as charged. I did not want to help them, but Carlo and his grandson threatened my family's safety if I did not comply."
The old man looked utterly defeated.
Elyse urged, "Tell me everything you know, and I'll do everything possible to keep you away from Carlo and his men. "
"When I was approached by the elder Carlo Moretti," the priest began in a shaky voice, "he did not mention anything about a fire. He told me to release some kind of gas into the church."
“Was it poisonous?”
“No, I believe it was only meant to make everyone fall asleep.”
So the smoke she saw floating in the rafters had been caused by sleeping gas and not fire? Elyse frowned as she processed this unexpected turn. Had Carlo and Domenico been working together then? To knock out everyone inside for Cara to set on fire?
There were a few hitches in this premise, though. No one had passed out except for the priest, and, if Carlo and Domenico were in on the gas, then why had they stayed inside the church for so long, risking exposure to it themselves?
"How come the sleeping gas didn't work on anyone?"
Father Boselli grimaced uncomfortably. "I believe there was a malfunction. I must not have set it up right. The gas was supposed to be released after the first prayer, but it started leaking a bit early, and, then, once the guns came out..."
As his voice trailed away, Elyse filled in the blanks for him. Once the guns came out, Father Boselli blacked out.
Clarity settled in for Elyse. A leak meant the dosage of the gas probably hadn't been strong enough to do any damage. Domenico and Carlo had probably planned on evacuating the church— just like them —after that fateful first prayer.
Her mind whipped toward Valentina's future husband. Fucking Gaspare! With one ill-timed bullet, he'd foiled everyone's carefully laid-out schemes. It would've been a stroke of genius if he hadn't then proceeded to stand by and watch, like a slack-jawed, useless coward, while his father and brothers got slaughtered one by one.
At the thought of Valentina, more questions entered her mind. How did Valentina find out about Carlo's plans? Had the blonde beauty been secretly allied with them as well? She knew enough to successfully locate Father Boselli in that motel room. Was the blonde working with Carlo Moretti? Until the evidence proved otherwise, Elyse decided that Valentina was guilty until proven innocent.
She demanded, "Did Valentina Rizzo know about Carlo's plans?"
"I do not think so," the priest answered, "at least, her name was never brought up in my conversations with Carlo. I know Domenico Berlusconi, however, was probably working with him."
"Interesting."
Father Boselli revealed, "I overheard Carlo arguing with Domenico on the phone once or twice during our meetings. The two seemed to have a strained partnership."
She didn't doubt the priest's assessment of Domenico and Carlo's relationship. Domenico hadn't hesitated to shoot Carlo in cold blood during their heated quarrel at the funeral.
By the end of her discussion with Father Boselli, she’d learned enough to investigate on her own. Elyse intended to confirm Father Boselli's side of the story with a few more sources. Then, she could plan the next move with Alessandro.
She returned to the palazzo and met with Alessandro to update him on her findings. They retreated to his study to speak in private. Elyse spilled everything, "The Morettis are the ones who have been threatening Father Boselli…"
Her husband listened aptly to her every word.
Once Elyse finished her report regarding the priest, she inquired, "Do you think Valentina is still on our side after everything I have told you?”
“I do not know, cuore mio .”
“She seems to be very in tune with Carlo's every move.”
Alessandro drew her closer to plant a worried kiss on top of her head, "Let us deal with Valentina after we settle matters with Father Boselli and the Morettis."
Elyse sighed, "Don't forget about Carmen. She'll be back in our lives soon. Thanks to Valentina."
Alessandro's expression tightened with agitation. "Just thinking about my stepmother is already giving me a fucking headache."
The date for Valentina and Gaspare's wedding had been set. The wretched affair would take place in three months. Carmen was already finding reasons to stir shit up. It is downright disrespectful , she had fussed and screeched, to have a wedding so soon after Vincenzo's funeral!
Over the next week, husband and wife worked together to inspect Father Boselli's claims. When the truth was verified by Alessandro's men, they moved the priest to a secure and secret location— away from the Moretti clan —and evidence of the younger Carlo Moretti's involvement in his clan's criminal activities was added to their hit list.
In time, Carlo would be turned into the authorities through Gaspare. Along with everyone else who posed a threat to them. Whether or not Valentina's name needed to be added to that incriminating list was what Elyse intended to determine next. She began to view these individuals as obstacles that needed to be removed—
It took Elyse a minute to catch herself. Dios , she was beginning to sound like a fucking Bond villain. The thought sent trickles of unease through her conscience.
Alessandro had called it.
The threat to their lives would never end as long they remained in the mafia. If the two of them continued down this path as capo and the capo's wife, they might be able to hold onto their honor in this gray for a few years, but, in order to stay a step ahead of the game and outplay their enemies on this deadly chessboard, it'd only a matter of time before they lost themselves in the darkness.
This inevitable tragedy wasn't the future Elyse envisioned for them at all. Their love was too precious to be tainted by evil. Alessandro was insistent on moving forward with his dangerous scheme, and, despite the risks, Elyse suddenly found herself entirely on board. The way forward felt perilous but absolutely necessary. She desperately wanted to believe that love could conquer all.
Later that evening, in the dark of their bedroom, Elyse felt her husband turn toward her on the mattress. Sheets whispered between them. Alessandro sidled up behind her, becoming the big spoon to her little spoon, as his arms came around her.
He sighed in contentment, "I still cannot believe you came back to me."
Elyse clasped one of his hands, lifted it to her lips, and kissed each of his fingertips and knuckles with all the tenderness she kept in her heart for him.
She whispered, "I'll always come back to you, Alessio."
Nuzzling her neck, Alessandro crushed her possessively to his chest. "You, cuore mio , make this madness worthwhile."
She felt the same way about him. A small smile graced her face as Elyse tucked her rear against his crotch. Alessandro grunted quietly as he ground himself against the rounded curves of her ass. With every push and prod, his cock grew hard and harder still. Elyse reached behind to take his shaft in hand. Her fingers wrapped around him lightly, jerking him off in a loose yet pleasurable hold.
When she had stirred her husband's arousal to the brink of release, Elyse flipped her body around and hastened downward to take him in her mouth. His fingers tangled in her hair while he began to thrust in earnest. She finished him off with the wet suctioning warmth of her lips, her tongue, her cheeks.
Alessandro groaned wildly as he spilled down her throat, "Sì, sì, sì, brava ragazza, così brava ragazza..."
Yes, yes, yes, good girl, such a good girl...
Elyse could only moan in response. She couldn't speak because her mouth was stuffed full of his cock.
The music box remained inside the room with them, but husband and wife were free to make as much noise as they pleased. Marcello had found a way to remotely dampen and disrupt the mic for short periods of time. Alessandro had known about this little development all along— the bastard —but he failed to tell her about it until she chose Palermo over London.
Moments later, Alessandro recovered enough to prop himself up against their pillows. Sitting in a halfway-lounging position, he hoisted Elyse to him until she sat, lodged between his thighs, with her back resting against his chest.
His right hand drifted over her breasts to roll and tweak her nipples. His left hand slid between her legs. He pleasured Elyse as she would've touched herself. Alessandro dipped his fingers now and then into her slick cunt, using her own juices to coat her clit as he swiped his thumb across the delicate spot with gentle, teasing caresses. As Elyse's breaths shorted and her cheeks pinkened with excitement, Alessandro moved one of her hands to her left breast and the other to her pussy.
"Play with yourself," he growled softly, "while I play, too."
They worked together to chase her climax. He massaged her right breast while she squeezed her left one. Eventually, Alessandro slipped two fingers into her cunt, thrust-thrust-thrusting, at a steady pace as she continued to flick her clit beneath a blur of fingers. Pure, blinding ecstasy burst through Elyse moments later.
Alessandro tilted Elyse's mouth toward him, kissing her deeply in the throes of her orgasm. Her senses flooded with elation as her heart thundered away with nothing but love for the beautiful, breathtaking devil in her bed.
"I love you so much, cuore mio ."
"Love you more," she whispered back.
In the quiet moments before night lulled them to sleep, Elyse and Alessandro conversed in hushed, secretive tones about their dreams, their fears, and their future together. Bit by bit, Alessandro revealed everything he had been keeping from her. His plans with Valentina and Gaspare, how he used the old data on his mother's memory card to dig up new evidence on their enemies, and the enterprises he wished to invest in once they cut their shadiest ties with Cosa Nostra . He wanted to expand into tech and real estate. He also wanted to buy her a chain of hospitals.
"Hospitals?" Elyse exclaimed softly.
" Sì ," Alessandro replied with a lopsided grin, "I told you once before that I would move mountains to see you smile."
His words made Elyse smile like a loon even while she tried to keep her voice stern, "I wouldn't even know what to do with them. It's too much, Alessio."
"It is not enough," he murmured, "nothing will ever be enough to show how I feel about you."
"Stop," she chided, the smile never leaving her face.
He winked. "Never."
They flirted, they chatted, the conversation flowed with ease. Her husband spoke of ROIs and revenues and owner's equity. These weren't the ramblings of a clueless mafia princeling. They were thorough, well-constructed ideas with potential. It was clear the man had done his research, and his time at Oxford, though brief, hadn’t been a wasted education at all.
Elyse hung on to his every word, processing and analyzing the risks and rewards. She soon arrived at a new conclusion about her husband. Alessandro might not have been as ruthless or feared by others as his father, but he was far more strategic and pragmatic. Money would multiply when he was in charge of it, and his men would continue to follow him anywhere. Alessandro understood what they desired most and possessed the ability to reward their loyalty and hard work.
This moment seemed to mark the birth of something exciting and terrifying. A fresh chapter had begun. Their lives fell into a new rhythm over the next few weeks. During the day, Elyse barely saw Alessandro. She was too busy for him, and he was too busy for her. Not surprisingly, overseeing an empire full of criminals and undocumented multimillionaire dollar transactions sucked up all of their time and attention, but, at night, they belonged to each other.
The peace between them was real. Their love had never felt brighter. They were now united in mind, body, and soul, and they were bonded as friends, as lovers, as husband and wife, and as comrades fighting the same war.
The following three months flew by at a speed that left Elyse completely winded.
Alessandro worked hard to set the pieces in motion for their end game.
Elyse enlisted Mariposa to help her with keeping tabs on the Rizzos as she continued to plan the wedding for Valentina and Gaspare.
The day of the wedding snuck up on her before she was ready for it.
Mariposa and four other girls from the Svizzi, Trevisano, Berlusconi, and Moretti clans served as bridesmaids. The ceremony was held outdoors in a garden at an upscale hotel. This venue was lavish and lovely but nowhere near as grand as Elyse's wedding in Castello Balistreri.
Lush, fragrant garlands of blood-red roses were draped everywhere, along both sides of the aisle runner, around the columns of the gazebo, across any bare surface that needed punches of drama and color. Tables bloomed with extravagant bouquets. More crimson roses vied for the spotlight beside elegant white irises. Gold and crystal accents added glamor and sparkle in ways that felt very on brand with Valentina’s aesthetic. On the surface, everything appeared perfect.
Beautiful bride.
Breathtaking ambiance.
Sublime weather.
It was a facade, of course. Gaspare was, arguably, the most miserable-looking groom in all of Palermo. His surly expression offered a glimpse of truth that had been eclipsed by the pomp and circumstance of everything else.
Due to her status as the capo's wife, Elyse was selected as the matron of honor even though she and Valentina didn’t exactly see eye to eye. She didn't trust Valentina, and Valentina didn't trust her. Yet, try as they might, neither Elyse nor Mariposa had been able to uncover any substantial proof that might suggest Valentina's involvement with the Morettis and Father Boselli. The blonde handed over all of her contacts that she’d used to track down Father Boselli in that motel, and none of the names raised red flags .
Even Carmen was on good behavior now that she’d returned to the lap of luxury.
What Elyse ended up discovering, however, was that Malina hadn't been wrong when she claimed the two Rizzo women to be less aligned than outsiders might believe. It seemed Valentina and Carmen weren't on the same page at all. Valentina had been an absolute bridezilla during the wedding planning process, so much so that Carmen washed her hands of her daughter, forcing Elyse to step in quietly, time and time again, to help soothe Valentina's tantrums.
Mere hours before the ceremony, Carmen threatened to disown her daughter over a tube of lipstick. Both of the Rizzos were dead set on wearing the same shade of red. A Rouge Hermès in 79 Rouge érable . Valentina forbade her mother to use it. Carmen refused to choose another color. She seemed far more interested in outshining Valentina than celebrating her daughter’s big day, which, again, left Elyse no choice but to step in as the peacekeeper.
Emergencies kept arising at every turn. Elyse ran around in a tightly-wound state as she tried to tame crisis after crisis. At one point, the fucking veil went missing. When the bridesmaids finally located the damn thing, Elyse rushed it to Valentina in her dressing room.
She knocked on the door first.
Valentina's voice floated through the door, "Come in."
Bag in hand, Elyse entered the room to deliver the veil. Valentina was sitting on a plush emerald green velvet stool before an ornate cherry oak vanity. She’d just finished getting her hair and makeup done. Her lips were kissed in 79 Rouge érable. Earlier, Elyse gifted Carmen an even more expensive brand of lipstick in exchange for her to switch colors.
She eyed Valentina with a wry expression. “The color is perfect for you.”
Instead of preening like a peacock, Valentina surprised Elyse by shrinking from her praise. The blonde’s voice sounded oddly quiet when she muttered, “Thank you.”
A large cloth had been placed over the mirror, as was the Italian custom, to prevent the bride from seeing her reflection before the ceremony. The blonde looked uncharacteristically nervous. Elyse assumed it was because Valentina couldn't check on her appearance.
She assured her, "You look beautiful."
Valentina sighed. "I know what I look like, Dr. Romero. It will be wasted on him, though. "
She couldn’t blame Valentina for feeling upset. Gaspare wasn't Célia, after all, and, to make matters worse, he was a fucking idiot. The entire wedding felt wrong on so many levels. Elyse didn't want to rock the boat right before the ceremony, though, so she chose not to comment on Valentina's grievances and stuck, instead, to the task at hand.
“Good news.” Elyse pulled out the giant cloud of tulle from her bag. "We found your veil."
Valentina let out another sigh. "Wonderful."
Why did the blonde look so depressed? She’d never seen Valentina express any emotion other than spite or smugness. This was the first time Elyse glimpsed the blonde's more vulnerable side. Elyse tried not to let Valentina's strange mood bother her when she asked, "May I help you put it on?"
"Please."
With steady, nimble hands, Elyse used her surgical reflexes to pin down the veil much in the way Malina had helped her get ready on her wedding day. She worked diligently to help Valentina look her best. It seemed to soften the blonde’s usual hostility toward her.
"Thanks," the blonde muttered again.
"My pleasure," Elyse replied as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. "You’re absolutely stunning. I mean it."
"If I did not look the way I look," Valentina drawled coolly, "Gaspare would not have agreed to this insult of a marriage. He wants us dead for killing his family, but his little cock still gets hard for me while his tiny balls retract in fear around Sandro. I cannot believe I am about to wed such a pathetic worm of a man."
Elyse's eyebrows popped up in surprise. In the past three months, Valentina had never voiced a single doubt or displayed any reluctance over her impending nuptials, not even when Elyse tried to provoke it out of her.
Elyse studied the blonde with concern. "Are you having second thoughts? If you're planning to back out, I need to know."
Valentina's gaze narrowed and sharpened. "Relax, Dr. Romero, I intend to see this day through. I understand what is at stake here."
Her nerves calmed slightly. "Good."
Valentina clicked her tongue. "However."
Mierda . "What’s wrong?"
Valentina sniffed, "I am about to sacrifice myself for cosca . The least you can do is acknowledge my efforts."
"I never said I didn't value your sacrifice."
Valentina didn't look convinced. "Lies."
Elyse refused to take the bait. "I don’t want to argue right before you’re about to walk down the aisle. We can air out our grievance after the wedding.”
"But this is our last chance to talk," protested Valentina. “Once I exchange vows with the worm, there will be no going back, so you and I must work out our differences. Now ."
"I don’t think—”
Valentina interrupted her, "If you had not come to me just now, I would have found you before the ceremony. I have some things that I must get off my chest."
She braced herself. "Oh, fuck…”
"These past three months have been eye-opening to say the least. You have been indispensable as my little bitch. You were able to handle all of the bullshit better than my own mother."
Elyse suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Thanks, I think?"
"I know you do not trust me, though. You are waiting for me to betray you."
Elyse didn’t argue because what the blonde said was true. She mumbled, "We don't need to be friends to work together."
"No, we do not need to be friends," Valentina continued, "but I need to know that I can trust you if we are going to continue our alliance after I become Signora De León . Otherwise, our plans will fail."
Elyse murmured, "You're not wrong, but trust must be earned."
"Célia trusts me."
"I’m not Célia."
"Sandro trusts me, too."
"Does he really, though?"
Valentina smirked. "You do not know much about Sandro and me, do you?"
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Barely, though . The blonde’s favorite pastime seemed to be antagonizing her about Alessandro. It was like kicking a dead horse at this point. Annoyance shot through Elyse, but she managed to paste an unbothered smile on her face.
With the patience of a saint, Elyse sighed. "Apparently not. Enlighten me, please."