Chapter 58
FIFTY-EIGHT
VALENTINA FERRARA
Back at the table, I tried desperately to regain control of my emotions, but my body was still humming with the electrifying tension of what had just happened on that dance floor.
My heart wouldn’t slow down. My breathing was still uneven as I forced myself to look normal under all those curious, assessing eyes.
Enrico stayed at my side, calm and composed the way he always seemed to be in public. But I could tell—by the way he discreetly squeezed my hand under the table—that he was just as shaken as I was.
The tension between us was palpable, almost physical, and I had no doubt that anyone paying close attention could see it.
“I need to breathe,” I whispered, pulling my hand away. I needed a few seconds alone. I needed distance before we made even more mistakes.
He nodded, keeping his voice low.
“Don’t go too far.”
I answered with a small nod, rising from the table with as much calm as I could gather. I moved through the ballroom with a polite smile, heading toward the women’s restroom.
I needed those minutes to steady myself—to reorganize my thoughts and, most of all, to remember every reason why I couldn’t let my body dictate what my mind chose next.
When I finally stepped inside the spacious, luxurious restroom, I faced the mirror and forced my breathing to slow. I ran my hand over my face, trying to erase the heat burning in my cheeks.
“Are you okay?” a woman’s voice asked beside me, snapping me out of my spiral.
I turned quickly and found a young, elegant woman with a pleasant smile.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I answered, forcing casual. “Just… a little warm in here.”
She smiled in understanding as she retouched her lipstick in the mirror.
“I can imagine. You and Enrico Ferrara are the sensation of the night, you know? Everyone’s talking about you.”
I gave her a polite smile, hiding my discomfort.
“We’re happy. That’s all.”
She sighed dramatically, looking at me through the mirror.
“You know, it’s honestly admirable that you can keep so much composure with your history. It must be hard to forget what happened. A lot of women wouldn’t have the courage to try again.”
I swallowed, anger rising, but I kept my voice quiet and controlled.
“Some things are worth protecting. Worth rebuilding.”
Her smile sharpened into something with teeth. She leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice.
“It is. Just be careful. Men like Enrico Ferrara don’t change easily. You might end up disappointed again, sweetheart.”
That venom-soaked warning lit irritation through me. I lifted my chin and looked her straight in the eye.
“I think I’m perfectly capable of deciding who I trust. Thanks for the unsolicited advice.”
Her eyebrows rose. She stepped away with a mocking smile.
“Good luck, then.”
When she left, I inhaled deeply, even more unsettled than before. I washed my hands quickly, determined to go back into the ballroom and face all of it.
But the second I opened the door, I almost collided with Enrico.
He was standing in the empty corridor, waiting for me.
His gaze pinned me—intense, alert.
“What happened?” he asked immediately. “I saw that woman walk out with a smile I know too well to mean anything good.”
I exhaled, crossing my arms like armor.
“Nothing I didn’t expect. Just unsolicited advice about you and our past.”
His expression darkened. His jaw locked as he drew a careful breath.
“No one has any idea what happened between us. No one but you and me.”
I shook my head, looking away, trying to keep anger and old hurt from sharpening my voice.
“And do you, Enrico?”
He stepped closer—careful, measured—his voice low and filled with regret.
“I do,” he said with absolute certainty.
“I’ll never stop admitting I was wrong. But now I know the truth, and I’ll never doubt it again.
” His eyes held mine. “You’re the woman of my life, Valentina.
You always were. You always will be. And even if you never give me the chance to be the man in yours again…
I’ll still be grateful just to be allowed to live beside you. ”
I lifted my eyes to his, my chest tightening painfully at the vulnerability in his face.
“I’m trying, Enrico. I swear I’m trying.” He nodded like he understood every hesitation, every fear. “You shouldn’t have followed me out here,” I added weakly, with no real strength to push him away.
He raised his hand, hesitated—then brushed the tips of his fingers over my cheek.
I shivered, involuntary, at how gentle it was.
“Are you running from me,” he murmured, “or from yourself?”
I swallowed hard, unable to answer.
My mind was chaos. My breathing got harder as his fingers traced my face and he leaned closer.
“Why do you keep running from what we both know we want?” he whispered, frustration thick in his voice, his face dangerously close again.
“Because it’s wrong,” I managed, weakly. “Because I—”
I didn’t finish.
Enrico closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, then looked at me again—like he was holding himself back with sheer force.
“All I want right now is to touch you. Kiss you,” he said quietly. “To show you that every word out of my mouth is true, and you’ll never have to be afraid of me hurting you again.”
My legs trembled. My heart beat like it was trying to break through my ribs.
I knew—perfectly—that I should push him away. That I should resist the sincerity in his voice.
But I couldn’t.
“Please…” I whispered, barely audible, as my resistance unraveled. “Don’t make this even harder…”
“It’s already hard enough, Valentina,” he said, voice rough, his gaze burning into mine. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wanting you. Fuck the rules. I. Just. Want. You.”
Before I could deny him, before I could stop him again, his lips brushed mine—soft at first, painfully tender.
My mind went blank.
For one second, I forgot every reason this was wrong. I forgot the ballroom. I forgot Eloá. I forgot why we were here at all.
All that existed was Enrico—his mouth, his taste, the way he fit against me like a memory my body refused to release.
A low, involuntary moan left my lips as his strong hands locked around my waist and pulled me closer, sealing our bodies together in a perfect, terrifying match.
I knew it was madness. I knew it was a dangerous road—maybe irreversible.
But I couldn’t fight the connection. I couldn’t fight the urgency.
When we broke apart, Enrico inhaled hard, resting his forehead against mine, voice thick with emotion and desire.
“Let’s leave,” he whispered. “Now. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending. I can’t keep being away from you.”
I took a deep breath, no strength left to resist what was coming.
I lifted my eyes to his and answered in a low, decisive voice, fully aware of what my words meant.
“Then get me out of here.”
Enrico didn’t hesitate.
The walk to the elevator felt endless. My heart pounded, each step echoing in the hotel corridor while Enrico held my hand tightly, his fingers laced with mine like he was afraid I’d vanish.
The second the elevator doors closed behind us with a soft click, shutting out the world—
everything exploded.
Before I could even breathe properly, Enrico slammed me against the mirrored wall, his hands sliding up my body while his mouth crashed into mine in a desperate kiss that stole every shred of air from my lungs.
“I can’t wait until we get to the room,” he growled against my lips, his voice rough and frantic as he bit my mouth and dragged me harder against him. “I need you now.”
My body answered instantly. My hands fisted in his hair as I kissed him with a hunger that bordered on panic.
I knew no one else would get in. Not after he’d entered the code for the penthouse.
The elevator wouldn’t stop until we reached the top.
Enrico’s hands shoved up the side of my dress, lifting it with ruthless determination, exposing my shaking legs and the hot, sensitive skin already aching for him.
A small moan slipped out as his fingers slid along my inner thighs, my muscles tightening with anticipation.
“Please, Enrico… don’t stop,” I whispered, arching into him as the elevator climbed, indifferent to the storm inside it.
“Never,” he promised, voice dark and intense as his fingers found my underwear—already soaked. “I want you coming for me right here, Valentina.”
My eyes widened, my body trembling as his fingers began to work me with slow, precise movements, the exact ones he knew would ruin me fast.
“You’re so fucking good,” he murmured against my neck, his mouth leaving a hot trail over my skin, pulling uncontrolled sounds out of me. “Still get this wet for me… still moan like this for me…”
“You know I do,” I gasped, unable to resist, my hips moving instinctively against his hand, desperate for more.
Every skilled stroke dragged me closer to the edge. Pleasure took over completely—devastating, familiar, consuming.
“I feel your pussy squeezing my fingers and I remember what it’s like to own you,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. “Every time you moan, my cock gets harder. And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
My breath shattered.
“Say more,” I pleaded, shameless now. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me when we get to the room. Make me wetter.”
The elevator stopped at the penthouse floor. The doors slid open silently.
Neither of us noticed at first.
We were too deep in it—too lost.
Enrico lifted his head and met my eyes. I was wrecked, completely open, unable to think about anything but the hungry precision of his fingers.
“Feel how much this pussy wants me,” he said, dark satisfaction in his voice. “It’s sucking on my fingers.”
He pressed his palm to my clit and pushed two fingers inside me, wrenching a loud, desperate moan out of my throat.
“Like that, Valentina… I’m taking you to bed and I’m fucking you all night,” he breathed into my ear as his fingers moved in and out, slow, torturous. “But first—first I want you coming right here. Right here, with my fingers buried in you, while that door stays open.”
My body arched violently. I wrapped my arms around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders as my sanity dissolved.
“You know exactly how to make me lose it,” I gasped, hips moving uncontrollably, pulsing around his fingers. “Please… don’t stop. I need it now. Push deeper. Open me up. I want to come feeling completely yours.”
He smiled, keeping the pace slow, taunting me with the patience he knew would break me.
“I love it when you beg,” he murmured. “Love knowing I can make you feel like this… lost in my hands…”
Then his voice sharpened.
“Come for me now, Valentina.”
His thumb pressed perfectly against my swollen clit as his fingers sped up.
My body obeyed.
The orgasm ripped through me—violent, uncontrollable—my entire body convulsing as I screamed his name, breaking apart in his hands.
“Yes,” he groaned, approving, keeping his fingers inside me while I shook, savoring every pulse, every spasm, every second.
I was panting, trembling, clinging to him, my face buried against his neck as I fought to breathe and find even a hint of clarity.
Enrico pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, tasting me with a look of pure satisfaction.
Then his eyes found mine again—brighter, darker, more dangerous.
“Now,” he murmured with a promise-laced smile, “we go to the bedroom.”
He bent, one arm under my knees, the other behind my back, and lifted me easily into his arms.
He carried me out of the elevator and into what I knew—without a doubt—would become a massive regret in the morning.
But right then?
Right then, I didn’t care.