16. VALENTINO
16
VALENTINO
"Yoohoo, Earth to Valentino?" Micah’s voice drags me back to the present, snapping me out of the very vivid images running through my mind.
We’re in my office, sitting in the conference room, and I’m supposed to be preparing for this pointless meeting with Eva.
I shift in my seat, adjusting my tie to cover up just how distracted I am.
Layla.
Last night, her voice, those sounds she made, the way she came undone for me through the screen.
I had barely gotten a damn hour of sleep, spent half the night replaying the call in my head. And when that wasn’t enough? I had to take a shower just to regain some form of self-control. But since that didn’t do it, I ended up jerking off in the shower.
And now I’m here, stuck in a room full of suits, preparing to go head-to-head with a woman who thrives on pissing me off.
Micah raises a brow. "Where the hell is your head at?"
I clear my throat, straightening my back.
Focus, Valentino. Get your shit together.
"Rough night," I mutter, grabbing the file in front of me.
Micah scoffs. "Yeah, well, better snap out of it. Eva’s going to be here any minute."
And right on cue, heels clack against the marble floor, sharp and demanding, louder as she gets closer.
Eva Costa.
Her entrance is designed for theatrics, walking in like she owns the place, her designer handbag swinging carelessly as she tosses her sunglasses onto the table. Behind her, a small army of lawyers trails in, looking like they’d rather be anywhere else but here.
"Sorry I'm late." There’s that familiar smug tilt to her lips, as if she already thinks she’s won.
I don’t even look up from my papers. "It’s okay, Eva. We stopped holding you to actual standards of conduct a long time ago."
Her smirk tightens.
Good. Let her be pissed.
“You always did like hearing yourself talk." She slides into a chair opposite me. "Let’s get to the point. I assume you’ve realized by now that I’m not going anywhere. So whatever deal you’re hoping to offer, save your breath."
I exhale slowly, keeping my voice measured. “I have no intention of bargaining with you.”
She raises a brow. "No? That’s funny, because your little army of lawyers suggests otherwise."
I lace my fingers together, tilting my head. "You're mistaken. They're not here to negotiate. They're here to make sure you leave with the understanding that you're wasting your damn time."
Eva's jaw ticks.
I’ve struck a nerve.
But of course, she doesn't let me have the last word. "The Marchettis have had their way for too long. You think you can take everything and leave nothing for the rest of us? You treated Emilio, my father, like dirt, like we didn’t matter. And Valentina…” She spits my mother’s name out like venom. “She was no saint, despite what you all like to believe.”
That does it.
My chair scrapes loudly against the floor as I stand, my voice low and lethal. “Watch your mouth, Eva.”
Eva smiles. She likes this. She wants this reaction.
She leans forward, eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of striking a nerve. “You all think you’re untouchable because of that vineyard, like the world owes you something just because you’re Marchettis. But my father inherited that land too. You robbed us. We demand compensation.”
I clench my fists under the table.
"Giorgio sold that land to us. You’re delusional if you think you have any claim to it now."
Eva leans back, crossing her arms. "Funny what they’re calling stealing these days. Like father, like son. A bunch of thieves, all of you.”
I see red.
Just as I’m about to snap, Micah puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t let her get to you. This is exactly what she wants.”
He’s right.
I take a slow inhale, then release it.
I can’t stoop to her level. My mother taught me better than that. But won’t let her win.
I straighten my suit, forcing my voice into calm, controlled steel.
"You can say whatever you want about me, about my family. But you’re not going to get what you want. The law is on our side."
She sneers, frustration creeping into her expression. "You think you’re so noble, don’t you? But underneath all that high-ground talk, you’re just as ruthless as the rest of your family.”
I tilt my head, letting my silence be my answer.
The frustration builds in her features before she finally scoffs and storms out, slamming the door behind her.
Micah exhales heavily. “Well, that was productive.”
I rub a hand over my face. "We need solid evidence to shut her up. Fast."
The stakes are too high, and time isn’t on my side either.
I leave the office and drive back home. I head to the attic where we keep my mother’s belongings, but before I can go in, my hand freezes on the handle.
The memories flood back, her laughter, the way she filled every room with warmth. It’s too raw, too painful. I can almost hear her voice echoing through the house.
I step back, my breath hitching in my throat. I need to cool off, to clear my head.
Without another thought, I head down to the pond near the estate, a place I always went to when I needed to clear my mind.
It’s peaceful here. A place untouched by all the bullshit.
The memory of my mother’s face flashes before me. "Why did you leave so soon?"
Movement on the corner of my eye makes me turn to the figure at the water’s edge.
Silvano Salvatore.
And he’s wasted. Again.
The man who once stood toe-to-toe with my father in the wine business is now a bitter, broken version of himself, drowning in his own failures.
I consider walking away, but he beats me to it.
"Marchetti."
"Silvano."
His bloodshot eyes narrow. He takes a slow swig from his bottle before laughing bitterly. "Come to gloat? Now that my vineyard’s dead and gone?"
“I don’t have time for this.”
"You lot think you're untouchable. It’s only gotten worse since your mother’s gone."
I freeze.
Silvano stumbles toward me, reeking of alcohol and resentment.
"This spot was ours, you know. Before your family ruined everything. My land. My business. My life. All better off without you.”
I don’t let my expression crack. He wants a reaction. Instead, I decide to make my move.
"You need money, don’t you? Sell me the land. I’ll pay more than anyone else will."
For a moment, he actually seems to be considering it.
Then his face twists with anger. A snarl forms on his lips, and he throws the bottle of alcohol against the tree, shattering it into smithereens.
He lunges at me, grabbing my collar. “Over my dead body. That land will forever remain in my ownership. You can try to pry it out of me from my cold, dead hands.”
I shove him off, but before I can retaliate, a hand pulls me back.
"Papa, basta! Enough!" It’s Mattia, his son.
He looks exhausted, like he’s been dealing with this for too long.
“That bastard thinks that he can just—”
“Papa, stop.” Mattia takes him to the side, stopping only for a second to turn to me. "Marchetti, just go. You’re making it worse."
I hold up my hands, backing away. "Tell him to reconsider."
I walk off, irritation buzzing under my skin. And just when I think my day couldn’t get any worse.
My phone buzzes. I glance down, expecting another text from one of the lawyers.
Layla:
Forgetting something?
I frown.
Then, an image attachment.
I open it. And my breath catches.
Layla. Standing outside my apartment.
Makeup done. Hair curled. Lacy bra barely visible beneath her top.
"Fuck."
This woman is going to end me.
I immediately reply.
Of course not. I thought I’d come get you.
I shove my phone back in my pocket and head straight for my car.
I might not have solved the Eva situation. I might not have convinced Silvano.
But Layla? She’s mine to handle.
And tonight, I plan to handle her thoroughly.