Chapter 15 Valentina
VALENTINA
Iemerge from the sedation like I’m clawing my way out of a deep, dark well. My limbs are heavy, and my thoughts are sluggish. I’m unaware of my location and how I got here. The world is muffled, as if I’m wrapped in cotton wool, but gradually, sounds and scents filter through the blackness.
I don’t feel sick, and there’s no pain. Just bone-deep exhaustion that makes my eyelids the weight of concrete.
I force myself to breathe while attuning my senses.
The seat under me is buttery soft, a clear sign of the leather you find in luxury cars, and the ticking of cooling metal soon overtakes the gentle purr of a high-powered engine.
Giovanni’s cologne is the first scent that hits me. It’s distinctly him, but instead of tripling the output of my heart, it triggers sirens in my head. His powerful scent reminds me of whose world I’ve entered, and that I’m not a player on this team.
My name isn’t even on the signup sheet.
Against the screaming protests of my head, I crack my eyelids open.
Though they barely open, the world comes into view.
We’re parked in an estate so grand it could be a palace.
The endless grounds feature vast lawns, marble statues, and impeccably trimmed hedges.
Beyond the gates, the lights of Carlisle twinkle in the distance.
No other houses or signs of life are close by.
It’s seemingly just Giovanni, Valeria, and me.
I snap my eyes shut again and feign sleep when a conversation drifts through the haze.
Valeria speaks with a clear, professional tone, and it grates on my nerves.
This is as personal as it gets. “I’ll have the attic room made up for her.
It’s private, and she’ll have everything she needs, but it will keep her away from prying eyes.
” I picture her raking her nails over Giovanni’s chest when scratching fills her brief pause.
“We should keep news of her surrogacy on the down-low until we know if the transfer was successful.”
Surrogacy? The term is a brutal slap to the face. It twists my stomach with an equal amount of anger and humiliation.
Is that all I am to them? A vessel? A means to parenthood?
The thought of being called their surrogate for the next nine months makes my skin crawl. I’m not a part of their family, nor am I a willing participant in their prearranged agreement.
I’m the woman who got caught in the crossfire of their scheme.
Shame creeps across my face. I’m nothing but a problem to be managed. A dirty secret they want to hide in an attic room like a shameful mistake.
The sting of admitting it is intense and deeply gutting. It maims my chest and makes it hard to breathe. I loathe how I am being treated, but more than anything, I can’t stomach the idea of carrying their baby only to hand it over at the end.
Anger replaces my shame when I imagine the months ahead. How will I look at myself in the mirror, knowing I’m growing someone else’s child? How will I survive them taking what I’ve carried and nurtured for nine months like my sacrifice meant nothing?
The thoughts are unbearable.
Mercifully, a car door opening before gravel underfoot jolts me back to reality.
It’s a struggle, but I control my breathing so I can maintain my lie that I’m asleep.
Giovanni’s cologne is still dominant, so Valeria must have exited the car. Though I’d rather not possess this skill, I can feel the tension radiating off him. Beneath his anger and frustration, a darker, unidentifiable feeling seethes within him. I can’t pinpoint it, but it’s extremely suffocating.
It’s a fight not to sigh in relief when Giovanni intervenes with Valeria’s plan to make me the villain of her story. “Valentina will stay on the main floor. Put her in the room next to mine.”
The air crackles with tension during a brief pause, and I hear Valeria’s back molars grinding together. “That isn’t necessary. The attic is—”
“I said, put her in the room next to mine. I want her close.”
“The staff—”
“I don’t care about the staff,” Giovanni snaps, his voice a roar. “She isn’t to be hidden away like a dirty fucking secret. She is to stay on the main floor. End of discussion.”
Silence falls, thick and resolute, as a peculiar blend of relief and humiliation melds through me. I’m glad I won’t be imprisoned like a monstrous creature, yet I feel degraded that my destiny was determined without my consent.
I’m not a piece of furniture they can move and rehome at their convenience.
The reality of the situation settles over me like a heavy blanket. Every decision about my life is being made by someone else. Even the smallest things—where I’ll sleep, who I’ll see—are out of my hands.
Forget that. I’m my own person, and they have no right to steer the course of my destiny.
I stabilize my breathing, then slide my hand toward the door keeping me upright. The handle feels cool in my palm as I test if the door is locked. A soft click signals that it is unlocked.
I inhale deeply to prepare my lungs for the exertion they’re about to undertake, but before I can make a break for it, Giovanni’s warning has me torn on whether I should run away from him or to him. “You can run, Valentina. But remember, when I catch you, I get to fuck you.”
I freeze as my heart hammers in my chest—and several inches lower. There’s no point pretending now, so instead, I push against the restraints. I’m not a prisoner, and I refuse to allow my lust-crazed head to treat me like one.
Adrenaline surges through me when I fling open my door, slip out of my seat, and then break into a sprint.
I gasp for air in short, broken breaths as I weave through the endless lemon groves bordering the Caruso estate.
The trees are heavy with fruit, as if overdue to be harvested, and their waxy leaves glisten under the moonlight.
Grass tickles my ankles as I race across the uneven and squishy ground, and my lungs scream for a quick breather, but I can’t slow down.
Behind me, I hear loud, breathless pants.
They could be from guards who protect properties like this one, but I’m reasonably sure they belong to Giovanni.
The thudding of my pulse tells me this, not to mention the dampness between my legs.
When I merge deeper into the shadows of the trees, hopeful they’ll conceal me from the moonlit sky, branches whip at my arms and legs. I push through the pain, desperate for freedom.
When the light from a flashlight slices through the darkness, I flatten my back against a large trunk and finally answer the demands of my screaming lungs.
I’ve barely caught my breath when my panic recedes. The guard is armed, but seemingly unaware of my attempt to escape. He doesn’t reward me a second glance.
Still, I duck low before slipping past him unnoticed.
The perfume of fresh lemons crushed underfoot streams into my nose when I recommence my sprint two rows later.
The further I run, the more my calves burn, but I refuse to let fear win.
Or is it excitement?
As I reach a clearing, Giovanni calls my name. The heavy, deliberate steps that accompany his chant indicate that he’s close to catching me.
I should be terrified, but I’m not. Giovanni is a force of nature. He’s dangerous and unpredictable, but as his stomps drown out my thudding heart, my fear transforms into something else.
A strange exhilaration rises from being chased, and it fills me with feral disregard.
As I emerge from the orchard, the moonlight halos my locks, announcing my location.
Giovanni reaches me in less than a nanosecond. One of his arms wraps around my waist to haul me against his chest, while the other cushions our fall when he tackles me to the ground.
Even though none of the sweat covering me is from fear, I fight him with all I have. I kick and twist, yet he pins me to the rain-soaked earth as if I weigh nothing.
A wave builds in my womb when he blows his hot breath against my ear. “What did I say, Valentina? When I catch you, I get to fuck you.”
“Leave me alone!” I shout in the direction I last saw the guard, praying he will hear my screams and prevent an imminent assault. “Get off me!”
All my protests are fake. I ache for Giovanni, and although I hate myself for it, there’s no use denying the truth.
Giovanni’s thumb grazes the throbbing vein in my throat, wordlessly calling me out as a liar, before he lowers it to the top button of my shirt. My nipples harden at the slightest brush of his palm against my breast, and I grit my teeth.
I’m not meant to enjoy being treated like a commodity.
After popping two buttons, he raises his dilated eyes from my erratically panting chest to my face. “Why did your appointment at the clinic take so long yesterday, dolcezza?”
Huh?
Why is he interrogating me? I did nothing wrong.
When I say that to him, his smirk makes my insides squeeze, and then he undoes another two buttons. “Valeria claims your actions were intentional. According to her, you saw us at the clinic, and it prompted you to exert yourself into our arrangement. Is that true?”
“No!” My fight picks back up, and I whack into him. “Of course it isn’t true. Why would I do that? What benefit would I get from doing something so heinous?”
My throat burns with uncertainty when he murmurs, “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“What?”
He dances his eyes between mine for several heart-thrashing seconds before he repeats, “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That’s how much Valeria is willing to pay for you to carry her child.”
My anger is already at its boiling point, and the reminder of how I’m being portrayed adds gasoline to the fire. I’m not a money-hungry gold digger willing to do anything for some coin. My only wish is to help fund my mother’s cancer treatment.
I’ll keep that information to myself for now, though.
Revenge forever trumps someone else’s reprieve when you’re angry.
“And you, Giovanni? How much are you willing to pay?”