Valentina #3
"You listen. She left you a kiss, Salvatore. Lipstick on a towel folded into a swan in your bathroom."
"She was in there fixing her clothes," I continue, my voice dropping to something lethal. "Wearing jewelry you bought her. Acting like she owns a piece of you. She made it clear that she'd keep your bed warm long after I'm gone."
Something dark and possessive flares across his expression.
"Valentina, you're not leaving."
I stare at him in disbelief.
"That's what you're focusing on right now? Not the woman you've been screwing? Not the fact that she dared to stake a claim on you to my face?"
"I'm focusing," he growls, stepping into my space, "on making sure you understand that you're not going anywhere."
"Answer my question." I refuse to back down even as he towers over me. "What is she to you?"
"Nothing. She means nothing to me."
I wait for more.
"She was…”
I laugh, bitter and sharp. "She was."
The unfinished sentence hangs between us.
"She was what, Salvatore?" I push. "Your mistress? Your fuck buddy? Your dirty little secret tucked away in the staff quarters?"
"I ended it." His response is immediate, sharp. "The night you walked through that door, it was over."
He reaches for me, but I step back.
"Did you?" I wrap my arms around myself, armor against the ache. "Because she seemed awfully confident that she still has access to your bed."
"She shouldn't have been in there." His voice turns cold. Deadly. "I made it clear we were done."
"Clearly not clear enough." I laugh without humor. "She was very comfortable making territorial claims over you."
"She has no claim on me. No one has ever had a claim on me, Valentina. No one except you. You're the only woman I belong to."
"But she did." The words taste like poison. "For two years, she did."
"For two years, we had nothing. Physical. Convenient. Nothing more. She knows that. It was never what you and I have, Valentina. Not even close."
I shake my head, something breaking inside my chest.
"Don't." My voice drops to a whisper. "Don't you dare try to tell me this is love."
"It's the truth." He steps closer, and I hate that I don't move away this time. "When I woke up next to you, I didn't want to be anywhere else. When you smile at me, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in years."
His voice lowers, rough and desperate.
"The thought of you leaving? Of walking out that door and never coming back? It makes me want to burn this entire fucking city to the ground and stand in the ashes until you come home."
Part of me wants to believe him, but all I can see is that lipstick kiss. The smug look on her face. The bracelet glinting on her wrist.
"You should have told me." My voice breaks. "Before she could throw it in my face like ammunition."
"I know."
"Before I had to stand there and listen to her tell me I'm just temporary."
"You're not."
I look up at him, forcing myself to ask.
"Is there anyone else?"
His jaw tightens.
Fuck.
"Two more."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"They're in the guest quarters," he adds quickly, like that makes it better. "They're not in the main house."
"Three," I repeat the number softly, letting it sink in. "Three women you've been sleeping with. In this house."
A hollow laugh escapes me.
"Jesus Christ, Salvatore. I didn't realize I was moving into a high-end brothel."
"Valentina."
"Get out."
"Baby, listen."
"I said get OUT!"
The shout rips from my throat, raw and ragged.
Silence crashes down between us.
For a long moment, he just stands there, looking at me like he wants to argue. Like he wants to refuse, pin me against the wall, and make me listen.
But he doesn't. He nods once.
Sharp. Reluctant.
"I'll go." His voice is quiet. Controlled. "But this conversation isn't finished."
He moves toward the door, then pauses.
"Those women?" His tone drops to something final. "They're gone by morning."
"Make sure they get severance." The words come out before I can stop them. "Enough to keep them stable while they find something else."
He stops.
Turns.
Stares at me as if I've just done something incomprehensible.
"Even now," he murmurs, something like wonder bleeding into his voice, "even after everything, you're worried about them."
"They're not the problem. Why should they be punished for your actions?"
"Valentina, every one of those women threw themselves at me. I never sent for a single one. There is only one woman I've ever pursued, and she is going to be my wife."
His gaze holds mine for a long moment. He always says these things that make it hard for me to breathe.
"Do you understand why that terrifies me?" His voice is barely audible. "Why a woman like you is the most dangerous thing that's ever walked into my life?"
I look away, throat tight. "Just go, Salvatore."
He finally leaves, and I stand there frozen, staring at the empty space where he stood.
Then slowly I sink back onto the chaise, and I don't know what the hell to think about any of this. I know she's upset. I know she doesn't understand any of this, but… I need my best friend.