Valentina
CHAPTER NINE
Ifollow Rosa through a wing of the estate I haven't seen yet. She's been showing me around the property, and I'm still trying to memorize which marble corridor leads where. My slides are silent on polished floors.
We round a corner and the air changes. Warm, humid, scented with chlorine. Through a set of double doors, I see a massive pool.
"I didn't know there was an indoor pool here." The words slip out before I can stop them.
Rosa's lips curve faintly. "Oh yes. Mr. Vitale usually swims after his workouts."
I get closer to take a better look, and there he is.
Salvatore moves through the water with long, powerful strokes, cutting through it like it exists solely to part for him. His shoulders break the surface as he turns, water streaming down his skin in rivulets that trace lines my eyes shouldn't follow.
I stop breathing.
He's shirtless, wearing nothing but black swim trunks that sit low on his hips, clinging where they shouldn't. Tattoos stretch across his back and down his arms.
Each movement is controlled, efficient, and beautiful in a way that feels unreal.
I'm staring. But, I can't stop.
Rosa notices.
"I need to run and grab something," she says calmly. "Would you like to wait here, or in the main family room?"
My mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
"Sure," I manage.
She nods once and disappears down the hall, leaving me alone with the echo of splashing water and the hypnotic rise and fall of muscle that has no business doing this to my pulse.
My gaze follows the precision of him, the smooth economy of each stroke, the steady control in his breathing, the effortless authority in the way he commands the water instead of fighting it.
"Take a picture. It'll last longer."
I nearly jump out of my skin.
I whirl around to find a man leaning against one of the columns, arms crossed, mouth curved in an amused smirk. Dark hair. Eyes like Salvatore.
Much too comfortable and smug to be a guard, he must be one of the brothers.
"I wasn't staring."
"Sure." His grin is all-knowing arrogance. "Matteo. The brother who handles the money." He extends a hand, which I don't take. "And you must be the reason Salvatore's been impossible to work with lately."
Salvatore reaches the wall, grips the edge, and pulls himself up in one fluid motion.
Water pours off him, and stomach flips.
Then he climbs out of the pool, water dripping from his body as he reaches for a towel. I quickly move away from the door like I just got caught doing something I wasn't supposed to, so he doesn't see me.
Matteo looks through the glass and chuckles.
"Hmmm, so the mouse enjoys the chase; interesting."
Matteo glances between us, clearly entertained. "You should know," he adds, "that staring at my brother like that is dangerous."
"I wasn't."
"Relax," he says. "If Sal had a problem with it, you'd already know."
I look through the glass again, and Salvatore's gaze flicks to me, making my pulse spike.
Then he turns and walks away without a word.
The tension he leaves behind feels heavier than his presence.
Rosa returns moments later like nothing happened.
"Come," she says gently. "Lunch is waiting."
As I turn to follow her, Matteo's voice trails after me, amused.
"See you around, little mouse."
His words stop me. "What did you call me?"
Matteo's smile doesn't fade. "Little mouse. That's what you are, isn't it? Running through the maze, looking for the exit." He tilts his head. "Salvatore told you about the contract, I assume."
My stomach drops. "What about it?"
"Nothing." He pushes off the column. "It’s interesting that he's already started rewriting the terms. The Salvatore I know doesn't renegotiate.
" He starts walking away, then pauses. "But then again, the Salvatore I know doesn't bring women home either.
So maybe you're not the only one trapped in something new. "
He disappears around the corner before I can respond.
* * *
Later, I'm curled up on the chaise in my suite, cozy under a large blanket I finally decided to make use of, dozing off while reading one of the books left in the room.
I wake to my phone buzzing. For one desperate moment, I think it's my father.
It's not.
Lindsay's name flashes across the screen, the fourth time she's called. I let it go to voicemail again. What would I even say? Hey, I'm being held in a mansion to pay off my family's forty-year-old mafia debt, but the sheets are nice?
I ignore the call and check my messages. Nothing from Dad. But my eyes linger to Salvatore's text from earlier: Bad girl.
Two words that shouldn't make my pulse spike.
But they do.
The phone buzzes again cutting through my thoughts.
A text this time.
Lindsay: Val, I'm seriously worried. Please call me back. Your mom won't tell me anything and you're not at work. This isn't like you.
Lindsay: If you don't answer by tonight, I'm filing a missing persons report.
Shit.
Of course she would. Lindsay's a prosecutor, one of the best this state has ever produced. With a mayor for a father, she has access, influence, and leverage most people don't even know exist, and she's never once hesitated to use it.
Me: I'm fine. Dealing with family stuff. I'll explain soon.
Three dots appear immediately.
Lindsay: FAMILY STUFF? Valentina, you've been MIA for almost a week. Five days to be exact. That's not "family stuff," that sounds like a crisis.
Lindsay: Where are you?
I stare at the screen trying to figure out what to say. Before I can respond, there's a knock at the door. I consider ignoring it. The knock comes again. Firmer.
"Ms. Marino, I know you're in there," Rosa's voice filters through the door, calm and unyielding.
I pull the blanket up to my chin like it's armor. "Well, let yourself in. We both know these locks are purely decorative."
"Only Mr. Vitale has a master key, ma'am."
Of course he does.
I don't respond, stubbornly staying in bed.
"I have macarons," Rosa continues patiently, "and some things you may need. I'll only be a moment."
Ugh.
I throw back the blanket and pad to the door, opening it. "Hello again, Rosa."
Rosa stands there looking perfectly composed, holding a silver tray. Draped over her other arm is a garment bag.
I take the tray wordlessly and set it on the table by the window without looking at her.
"Thank you," I mutter. "But I really would have appreciated it if you'd left it outside the door."
She doesn't respond to that. Instead, she moves to the chaise lounge and carefully hangs the garment bag.
"This is for you," Rosa says, unzipping the bag to reveal an elaborate red gown, "Mr. Vitale has selected this for you to wear to dinner with the family."
I turn to stare at her. "There are dozens of dresses already in that closet. Can't I just pick one of those?"
"He would prefer you wear this one."
"Rosa." I cross my arms. "Are you seriously telling me he's dictating my wardrobe? He can't possibly expect me to be his puppet."
Her expression doesn't change. "There are worse things than wearing a five-thousand-dollar dress to dinner, Ms. Marino."
"Five thousand?" I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Why do I need an elaborate dress? Where are we going?"
"You're having dinner with his brothers. So, you can meet them properly."
My stomach drops. "I've already met Elio and Matteo; he has more brothers?"
She doesn't answer, which I'm learning is Rosa's way of confirming things she doesn't want to say out loud.
She steps out and returns carrying a small red velvet box and a folded garment draped over her arm.
"What is this?" I ask.
"A gift," she replies. "From Mr. Vitale."
I don't touch it. "Tell him I don't want gifts."
Rosa offers a small, knowing smile. "He anticipated that.
She sets the box on the dresser, then unfolds the garment. I look at the box briefly but then look away. I don't want his stupid gift.
When she's done unfolding the garment, I realize it's a robe.
Black silk. Long. Elegant. The kind of thing you wear when you want to look untouchable and irresistible at the same time. Then she hands me a silk bag, and when I open it, there's lingerie.
My throat tightens. "What's this for?"
"A private dinner," she says.
I blink. "I thought I was to have dinner with his brothers? Now there's a private dinner?"
"You will get to meet the other brothers, but not yet; he's giving you more time to adjust."
That should comfort me, but it doesn't.
"He requested you eat privately tonight," she continues. "As in, the two of us privately?"
"No, just you, he won't be joining you. But he asked that you dress… appropriately."
I laugh under my breath. "He wants me to wear lingerie for an audience of myself?"
Rosa meets my eyes. "For him."
My spine stiffens. "He won't be there."
"No," she agrees. "But he'll see you."
The cameras. My stomach twists.
"Tell him I'll eat in pajamas." I turn toward the door. "Or not at all."
Her expression softens, not with pity, but something like respect.
"You could," she says. "But I wouldn't recommend starting a war over dinner; there are bigger fights."
She’s right. But I can choose how I comply.
"I'll wear the robe." I make my decision. "Nothing else. He can keep his skimpy lingerie for his next little mouse."
Rosa's brow lifts slightly.
"Tell him that," I add.
A pause. Then she inclines her head. "As you wish."
She's the kind of person who's worked for this family long enough to know exactly how much to say and when to stay silent. I don't bother pushing for more information.
Rosa heads toward the door, then pauses with her hand on the handle.
"One more thing," she says quietly. "Mr. Vitale asked me to tell you that if you need to contact your friend Lindsay, you should do so today. To reassure her. He doesn't want... complications."
My blood runs cold.
"He knows about Lindsay?"
"Mr. Vitale knows about everyone in your life, Ms. Marino." Rosa's expression softens slightly. "Call her. Put her mind at ease. But be careful what you say."
"Rosa." I catch her arm. "How many women have been in this room before me?"
She goes still. When she turns back, something in her expression has softened.