Chapter 24 Valentina
VALENTINA
Reluctant to surface from a dream I don’t want to leave, I wake slowly.
The sheets are soft against my skin. They feel like silk spun from clouds and scream wealth.
However, my limbs are heavy and sluggish.
A week of indulgent comforts has softened me.
My muscles ache. Not acutely, but in that dull, throbbing way that makes you crave more.
More movement.
More exhaustion.
More him.
I toss the covers off and stretch my arms overhead until my ribs groan. My stretch is slow and deliberate, and in seconds, it coaxes life back into tired limbs and brings a smile to my face.
For the past seven mornings, I’ve done the same routine. Though this is the first time I’ve woken up without Giovanni’s piercing gaze watching me as I sleep.
His possessiveness would concern me if it didn’t come with a heap of benefits.
The past week has been wonderful. Giovanni and I spend every waking moment together, even the hours I’m at my mother’s bedside, and Mom messages every morning to assure me she’s well-rested.
She also calls every evening at 6 to uphold her pledge, even if we’ve only just left her hospital room.
Her new medical team is skilled in the downfalls of her cancer, and although it’s still early days for her new treatment program, her prognosis is already showing signs of improvement.
Her upbeat mood likely stems from Aunt Maria giving her all the gossip on how the one percent live rather than a Posturepedic mattress, but any progress is welcome.
Aunt Maria thought the market stallholders had the hot takes on the locals. They have nothing on the doorman at Carlisle’s most expensive building.
With my muscles loose enough to play another game of naked Twister, I sink deep into the mattress and sigh.
I can’t believe it’s been only seven days.
It feels like weeks. Months, even. It’s hard to remember a time when Giovanni wasn’t a part of my life.
It’s as if he’s always been a part of the mess, which is both strange and scary.
I have no desire to question it, though. Everything is finally falling into place, and I was taught not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Those worries can wait until we can be in each other’s presence longer than ten minutes without mauling each other.
Fingers crossed that’s many moons away.
Smiling, I squint through the soft morning light filtering through the sheer curtains to collect my phone from the bedside table.
I’ve only just scanned a good-morning text from my mother when I sense a presence.
It prickles my skin with awareness, though it’s not the excited goose bumps I get when I sense Giovanni’s presence a second before I see him. It fills me with dread.
When I snap my gaze to the corner of the room, the air is sucked from my lungs.
Valeria is standing next to a dresser, trailing her manicured nails across the trinkets arranged there.
They’re not random pieces. They are the items Giovanni collected for me when he met with the construction crew supervisor rebuilding and remodeling my mother’s building.
He didn’t want them to get ruined. That’s how thoughtful he is and how far he’ll go to make sure I’m comfortable in his domain.
Initially, I opposed his plan to have the building remodeled.
My thoughts only changed when he explained the local council would fund the rebuild.
Apparently, the building citations they’ve issued over the past several years were illegal, thus not only giving the residents plenty of grounds to sue, but they were also entitled to a seven-figure refund.
All the residents agreed that the money go into saving one of Carlisle’s oldest buildings.
She’ll be a grand majesty once she’s finished, and it is all thanks to the Caruso family.
The reminder keeps me calm when my guest rummages through my things uninvited.
“Valeria…” My voice is rough with sleep but assertive enough to carry my displeasure of her unexpected snoop. “What are you doing?” When I push up on my elbows, the bedding pools around my waist. “Why are you in my room?”
Her slow turn reveals an icy expression. “We need to talk.”
“About?”
She picks up a small box and inspects it as if it’s a piece of evidence in a murder trial. “The IVF mix-up.”
I recoil as air rushes out of my lungs in a hurry. I’d completely forgotten the reason behind my reunion with Giovanni. Everything’s been so perfect that the clinic’s erroneous mistake slipped into the void at the back of my head.
Though I’d prefer it to stay there, now that it’s back, it is impossible to ignore.
“I…” A knot of anxiety forms in my throat. “What about it?”
Valeria’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Giovanni thinks you’re pregnant.”
My pulse spikes. Pregnant. It sounds foreign, like it doesn’t belong to me.
“If you’re not,” she barks sternly, “you’ll be gone faster than I can snap my fingers.”
Anger flares through me, hot and volatile. “Excuse me?”
Her laugh is low and mocking. “You think he’s doing all this for you? That he’s here for you?” Her words spit from her mouth like venom. “Why would he go to all this trouble”—she waves her manicured hand around the opulent lifestyle I’ve been living for seven perfect days—“for someone like you?”
My throat burns with the wish to speak, but she continues, foiling my chance. “None of this is about you, Valentina.” She says my name as if it’s trash. “It’s because he needs an heir. That’s all you are to him. A prop to be used and disposed of once you’ve given him what he needs.”
I nearly flinch from the callousness of her words, but I hold back. If I show weakness now, she’ll eat me alive. But also, no number of nasty words can make me forget the way Giovanni looks at me, and the tenderness that reflects in his gaze when he props up my mother’s pillow.
He cares for me. A lot.
“No.” I aim for my reply to come out resolute, but it sounds weak, even to me.
What if she’s right?
What if Giovanni did all this because of a child who might not exist?
The thought guts me. If it’s the truth, none of this is real. Neither the safety nor the warmth. And most definitely not the way he makes it seem as if I belong. If it’s all tied to an heir, what will happen if the test comes back negative?
I want to believe in our connection, but I’ve had my heart trampled on before, so I need to be careful.
Still, my backbone remains straight. “I don’t believe you.”
Valeria’s smile is cruel and satisfied, as if I walked straight into her trap. “Then prove it.” She thrusts a box at me. “Take a test.”
When my gaze lowers to her hand, the contents of my stomach rush up my esophagus. Inside the box is an early-detection pregnancy test. It’s sealed and glaring at me in silent accusation.
“No.” Even with my insides a twisted mess, my reply is firm.
I may not be as wealthy or as beautiful as Valeria, but my heart is the heaviest thing about me.
I refuse to be treated as if that doesn’t count.
Being a good person is far more imperative than your dress size and social status.
“I’ll take a test, but not now and not in front of you.
” She scoffs, but I continue. “I feel for you, Valeria, and I understand how this affects you, but I’m not the bad guy. I am a victim… just like you.”
Her eyes narrow into tiny slits. “You don’t have a choice.”
“I do,” I snap, recalling Giovanni saying precisely that multiple times over the past seven days. “So I’ll only say this once.” I push the bedding aside and swing my legs off the bed. “Please leave my room.”
“Your room?” Her throaty laugh agitates my last nerve. “Even if this were your room, do you truly believe you can order me around? You’re nothing but the incubator of a Caruso heir.”
It takes every bit of my will not to retaliate with violence, but I manage.
Barely. “I didn’t order you to do anything.
I politely asked you to leave. I won’t be as nice the second time around.
” My snarl mimics hers when I underhandedly threaten her.
“Are you sure you still want to be here, arguing semantics when Giovanni returns?”
Her smile vanishes before she replaces it with something cold and vicious. “Fine, I’ll go.” Her hand shoots out to grab my arm. “But not until you’ve taken the test.”
Her fingers dig into my skin so firmly I know they’ll leave a mark when she attempts to drag me toward the bathroom. I say “attempt” because her svelte frame can barely budge me. Her struggles make me grateful for the extra meat on my bones.
“Take the damn test, Valentina!”
Pain lances through me when her nails pierce my skin, and I gasp while pulling free. “Let go!”
“Not until—”
The door slams open so fast it smacks into the drywall.
Valeria jerks back as fear fills her eyes. Her panic doesn’t lessen a smidge when she realizes it is Dante entering my room instead of Giovanni.
Dante’s presence fills the room like the gust of a dangerous storm after a humid day. It’s as suffocating as it is liberating.
As his eyes bounce between Valeria and me, he grinds his teeth. “What the hell is going on?” His voice is dangerously low. “I could hear you arguing halfway down the hall.”
“She—” Valeria starts, but Dante cuts her off with a look that could shatter bulletproof glass.
“Out,” he orders, staring at Valeria as if she’s gum under his desk. “Now.”
Valeria’s lips curl like she believes her beauty will get her out of more than a speeding ticket. One flare of Dante’s nostrils and she wises up. After dropping my arm, the sting from her nails still irritating my skin, she stalks past him without another word leaving her thin-pressed lips.
The door clicks shut behind her, and the silence that follows slackens the clutch slowly asphyxiating me, though not fully.
How could I have forgotten I might be pregnant? Giovanni is a king both inside and outside the bedroom, but one glance at his sinfully delicious face shouldn’t make me a brain-dead idiot.
Dante’s expression softens when he takes in the pregnancy test sitting on the bed. “Are you okay?”
I nod too quickly. The dizziness it inspires nearly makes me vomit. “Yes.” I muster a smile that announces my dishonesty before my words do. “I’m fine.”
Dante has honed the same skills as Giovanni. He sees straight through my lie. “Would you like me to get Vanni?”
“No.” Loose tresses of hair slap my cheeks when I shake my head. “I’d prefer not to interrupt him while he’s with your father.”
Giovanni explained last night that the brothers take turns checking in with the doctor helming his father’s medical care, and that this morning was his turn.
Their meetings rarely last ten minutes, but each brother uses the time left over from the allotted hour to have quality one-on-one time with their father.
Giovanni already missed one rostered check-in because he was busy settling me in. I don’t want him to miss another. He’s so understanding of my sometimes overbearing relationship with my mother, so I’ll give him the same flexibility with his parent.
Dante eyeballs me for a moment, then slowly turns to face the door. “If you need anything…”
“I’m good,” I whisper, more convincingly this time. “Thank you.”
When he leaves, my heart pounds so hard it might crack my ribs. Valeria’s words won’t stop playing on repeat: Giovanni thinks you’re pregnant. If you’re not, you’ll be gone faster than I can snap my fingers.
My throat burns as the room suddenly feels too big and cold. As panic bears down on me, I rush into the bathroom. I need to wash off the funk clinging to my skin and remember that I’ve faced worse than this.
I was told nine months ago my mother had six months to live. Nothing could be worse than that. Though I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t a close second.
The shower water is scalding, but I need it that way. The heat melts the tension coiled in my muscles and soothes the sting from Valeria’s nails. Steam curls around me as barbs of water pelt my skin.
It helps. The highness in my shoulders slacken and the tension in my spine loosens.
I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with the clean scent of soap and steam, and for a few precious minutes, I pretend the world outside doesn’t exist. There are no tests or threats.
And no cruel whispers that I’m nothing more than an incubator.
I feel good, but the instant I switch off the faucet, the negativity creeps back in.
What if Giovanni only wants me because he’s desperate for an heir?
I’m consumed with what-ifs as I wrap myself in a towel and enter the central part of the room.
My steps falter partway in. The pregnancy test sits on the mattress, glaring at me like it’s a verdict waiting to be delivered.
It’s just plastic and paper, but right now, it feels like the most powerful thing in the world.
Whatever answer it holds could change everything.
Water drips onto the wooden floorboards as I stare at a truth I’m not ready to face. Then I inch closer, as if drawn by gravity. I don’t want to fold to peer pressure, but I’d like to know what’s happening inside my body.
Because at the end of the day, it’s my body, so it’s my choice.
With my mind made up, I snatch up the test, race into the bathroom, and tear open the packet. The box hits the floor with a thud as the test strip cools the heat roaring through my palm.
After following the instructions to the wire, I place the test stick on the vanity sink and wait the required amount of time.
Minutes have never felt like days until now.
When the alarm in my head goes off, I slowly approach the vanity. My breaths are ragged, and my heart feels like it’s about to break out of my chest.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I flip over the plastic strip that holds more power than it should.
As I stare at the result, my reflection fractured in the foggy mirror, one thought screams louder than all the rest:
Everything is about to change.