9. Pietro
Pietro
She’s gone when I wake.
Just empty sheets and the faint trace of her subtle perfume on the pillow beside me.
I scrub a hand over my face, and stare at the ceiling like it holds the answers.
Last night wasn’t supposed to happen.
It was reckless. Stupid. Irresponsible.
And it was perfect.
She let me see her—raw and real, no armor, no sarcasm. Just Valaria. Just the woman I’ve been trying not to want since the second she stormed into my life.
But now she’s vanished.
And I don’t know what the hell to do with the part of me that wants to follow. I shower and dress rapidly like a recruit in bootcamp.
I weave through the clean-up crew in the kitchen—evaluating each one.
I find her downstairs in the war room, already dressed and armed, tapping through mission dossiers like she didn’t moan my name hours ago with her nails digging into my back.
“Morning,” I say.
She doesn’t look up. “We leave in thirty for the gala perimeter check. I had Luca arrange a secondary exit through the kitchens. I don’t trust the main floor security—too many eyes, too many unknowns.”
Right. We’re back to business.
Professional. Cold. Efficient.
No stilettos. Boots.
Like her body wasn’t tangled with mine all night. Like I didn’t kiss her so hard we forgot where one ended and the other began.
I step closer. “So… we’re pretending nothing happened?”
“Nothing did happen,” she says, flipping a page. “We got too close. Simple.”
I blink. “That’s your version?”
She finally meets my eyes. “What do you want, Pietro? A recap? A gold star? A replay?”
Yes.
By the gods, yes.
But I don’t say that.
Instead, I take a breath and shove the ache back down.
“You’re good at pretending, I’ll give you that.”
“It’s my job,” she snaps.
“No,” I say. “It’s your shield.”
She flinches. Just a flicker, but I catch it.
Before I can press the point, her comms device crackles.
A voice: “Security just flagged a breach on the villa grounds. Unidentified vehicle near the cliffside exit. Armed.”
We both stiffen.
Valaria’s eyes darken.
I nod. “I’ll take point.”
She moves toward the vault to retrieve a weapon and bullet proof vest—slams it shut. I grab mine from the drawer beneath the display screen.
“Your vest!”
Before I follow her, I hesitate.
Because something about the vehicle—about the timing—feels too perfect. The vehicle wheels around. A barrel of a gun juts out the window as it exits the perimeter.
It’s not just a threat.
It’s a message.
And I don’t know yet if it’s for the kingdom…
Or for us.
But I’m certain it is for Valaria.