Chapter 10
GIOVANNI
Since I wake before the sun, the city is still wrapped in a blue-gray hush that only comes before dawn. The penthouse is quiet. The only sound is the soft, steady rhythm of Valentina’s breaths. She’s lying beside me, restfully sleeping.
After rolling to my side, I prop myself on one elbow and watch her sleep. Dark-brown hair spills across her pillow, and her nostrils flare slightly as she takes shallow breaths. Unlike last night, her brows are smooth and trouble-free.
Although this could be my cockiness talking, I swear a satisfied smirk is hiking one side of her lips high.
Our connection last night exceeded my wildest dreams. That brutal, frenetic spark I felt for her the second I saw her turned into something wild and dangerous. My obsession with this woman is a wildfire raging through everything I thought I knew about myself and turning it into ash.
It could burn me if I’m not careful.
Until the early hours of this morning, I took her every way imaginable, but my hands still ache to touch her.
I want to feel the quickening of her heart rate in the seconds leading to her climax, and the sting of her nails as they scour my back when the intensity becomes overwhelming.
I want to hear her scream my name, and I may get the opportunity sooner rather than later when she shifts slightly.
Her sleepy murmurs bring a smile to my face. Her mumbles are undecipherable, but as she nestles deeper into the sheets, looking at home, I take them as a compliment.
She’s comfortable here. Protected.
I could stay like this forever, but the world has other plans.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, shattering the peace. I ignore it, but within seconds of me silencing it, it buzzes again. Cautious not to rouse Valentina, I reach for my phone.
Matteo’s name flashes on the screen, and I roll my eyes. My brothers have been texting me nonstop for the past hour, but Matteo’s messages are hard to overlook. It isn’t that he has a habit of making things urgent when they aren’t. It’s because I know he is as deviant as his messages suggest.
Matteo:
You’ve got five minutes to message me back before I show up at your penthouse with my dick hanging out.
He believes he has the biggest cock in Caruso history.
I’ve yet to reach the same conclusion.
My phone buzzes again.
Matteo:
And I’ll bring Nico, Elio, and Dante with me.
I’d like to say they lack the audacity to go against me like this, but having previously faced this threat and lost, I slide out of bed. Killing family members is against the rules, but I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself if Valentina saw a single inch of my brothers’ cocks.
Since our father is already broken-hearted from the death of our mother twelve months ago, I must do everything in my power to keep another mafia war off the table. Answering my brother’s text is the easy way out.
After covering Valentina’s luscious curves with a sheet, mindful my brothers prefer FaceTime chats over standard calls, I grab my phone and pad barefoot onto the balcony.
The view never fails to remind me that Carlisle is unlike anywhere else in the world.
The city sprawls along the coast, and its ancient Sicilian heritage clusters in a patchwork of traditional and modern elements.
Beyond the rooftops of the terracotta buildings my family is endeavoring to save, the Tyrrhenian Sea glimmers a vast, restless blue that holds the secrets of the families who’ve lived here.
I reply to Matteo’s “dicks out” message first. I use a simple emoji—the middle finger. His reply comes through fast. It’s typical Matteo style. A string of expletives and a blurry selfie of him and Nico at the compound, looking far too awake for the hour.
Unintentionally, I find myself smiling while composing a response. As I hit send, another call comes through. It’s a FaceTime request from Dante this time.
I look back at the bedroom to ensure Valentina is still asleep before accepting his request.
“Yeah?”
Dante doesn’t waste time. “It’s Dad.”
That carefree, can-take-down-the-world-with-my-pinkie feeling I’ve been experiencing for the past fifteen hours slips away. “What happened?”
“For once, it’s good news.” He sags against the wall outside his daughter’s room, and his eyes look up toward heaven. “He’s out of bed. He walked to the kitchen on his own.”
I wiggle my ear, positive I heard him wrong. Our father hasn’t left his room in months. I’ll admit, there’s no incentive for him to leave. Everything he needs is brought to him. But still, I’m shocked.
Dante takes the words right out of my mouth. “Makes you wonder if the first doctor was right. Maybe he is suffering from a broken heart.”
I close my eyes and fight like hell to remove the image my next question conjures before blurting it out.
“What’s got him so excited? Did he finally accept one of those special nurses Matteo’s been trying to add to the payroll the past six months?
” The nurses might wear white uniforms and know how to use a rectal thermometer, but I’m certain they didn’t spend a single second studying nursing in college.
Dante’s throaty laugh barely conceals his gag. “No. Though he did have a late-night visitor last night.”
“Who?” My one word snaps out of my mouth.
I’m fine with our father moving on. He loved our mother for thirty-six years and gave her the world, but he’s never shown an interest in finding love again.
We also need to be cautious. The lengths some people will go to slate their name next to a Caruso are outrageous. Dante knows this better than anyone.
Furthermore, my brothers and I helped make the Caruso name what it is. There’s no way we will step aside and let someone come in and steal it from under us right when we’ve crossed the finish line.
I balk when Dante answers, “Valeria.”
“Valeria?” I double-check. “My Valeria?” Bile burns my throat from the unwanted possessiveness in my tone. Valeria isn’t mine. I’m just lost why her visit would rejuvenate our father’s will to live, so perhaps I have her confused for the other thousands of Valerias in our country.
“Yep.” The P pops from his mouth. “She came by last night to update him about the procedure. She said it was a huge success.”
My blood runs cold. “What?”
“The implantation.” Dante speaks slowly, as if I am daft. “She said it went well and everyone at the clinic is positive she will have sticky eggs. Whatever the fuck that means.”
I grip my phone firm enough to crack the screen. “I told them to cancel the procedure. The driver—”
“Apparently arrived too late, from what Nico said. It went ahead, Vanni. Yesterday afternoon, your offspring were placed inside Valeria.”
I glance back at the bedroom where Valentina is sleeping. How am I supposed to tell her this? How do I explain that the one thing I tried to stop could now become front-page news?
My focus returns to the view that’s nowhere near as appealing as it was minutes ago when Dante says, “Valeria told Dad herself. He’s over the moon. Said between your child and mine, the Caruso legacy is secure.”
“Why did she tell him?” My fury rises as rapidly as my pulse. “Even if she didn’t know I’d asked for it to be canceled, it was supposed to stay between us until the test came back positive. It’s in our fucking contract.”
Dante’s sigh rustles out of the speaker of my phone. “I have no idea, Vanni. But it’s everywhere. Have you seen the news?”
A chill creeps up my spine. “What do you mean everywhere?”
“There’s a photo of you and Valeria on the front page of the Carlisle Chronicle. The story states the reporter snapped it at your engagement party last month. Where the fuck was my invite?”
He laughs.
He. Fucking. Laughs.
I don’t pay it any attention. I don’t even hang up.
I run back to the bedroom, my fists balling when I find it empty.
The covers are thrown back, but the sheets are still warm.
That means Valentina could still be here.
I had her clothes laundered last night. Not because they were dirty, but because it guaranteed she’d remain naked for as long as possible.
My heart hammers my rib cage as I scan the living room. The concierge must have brought up breakfast. A silver tray rests on the entryway table, and to its left is the local paper, unfolded and glaring with dishonesty.
It’s the final nail in my coffin.
A huge photograph of Valeria and me takes up most of the front page. We’re smiling for the cameras snapping pictures of attendees of a charity gala we attended jointly years ago, and the headline splashed in bold letters states:
CARLISLE ROYALTY SET TO WED IN SPRING.
After slapping the newspaper down, I race through the penthouse, calling Valentina’s name. I don’t get a single response. The bathroom is empty, and her clothes are gone.
First instincts have me wanting to pop a bullet between the concierge’s eyes. I ordered breakfast but requested for it not to be brought up until I called again.
His imprudence is the reason Valentina’s delectable body is no longer warming my sheets.
Instead of dressing in a suit that will conceal my gun, I return to the balcony. Call it intuition—or perhaps I tend to seek out trouble—but a restless energy is pulling me toward the balcony.
When I step outside, the cool morning air brushes against my skin as I lean over the wrought iron railing. Below, the streets of Carlisle are already stirring, and the aroma of baked goods and lemons mingle with the briny tang of the Tyrrhenian Sea.
I scan the crowd for only an instant before I catch a glimpse of molten locks. Valentina is standing on the sidewalk of the building across from mine, waving down a taxi.
“Valentina…”
A flash of heartbreak darts through her eyes when she looks up. She doesn’t return my greeting. She simply gives me the one-finger salute before she slips through the back passenger door of a cab and disappears into the city.