Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
ENRICO FERRARA
I got home with my head on fire.
The day had been an absolute disaster. Back-to-back crises, urgent decisions, calls I didn’t want to return—and hovering over all of it, like a cruel joke, the absurd reality that I was living under the same roof as a woman who made me want to slam a door or kiss her until I forgot how to breathe.
Sometimes in the same minute.
I took the stairs looking for silence.
The plan was simple: a whiskey, my office door shut, distance. Distance from her. Distance from the chaos she carried into every room she entered.
But plans had always been fragile where Valentina was concerned. And the universe seemed to enjoy sabotaging them with surgical precision.
The exact moment I reached the top of the stairs, she stepped out of her bedroom.
Wet hair. Dark strands dripping slowly over her shoulders. A white robe—soft, thin—tied at the waist with a ribbon knotted carelessly.
Too carelessly.
My entire body froze.
Just one second.
But it was enough.
My eyes took in far more than they had any right to.
Valentina noticed me immediately. Of course she did. She always did.
But instead of tightening the damn tie, instead of stepping back or pretending to be embarrassed, she stopped right there. In front of me. Chin lifted. Eyes steady. Her breathing just a little faster than it should have been.
It was deeply unsettling to realize how much that woman despised me—and yet felt no need whatsoever to hide how dangerously provocative she was being. No shame. No performance.
Valentina didn’t pretend.
“Do you really think you can walk around the house like that?” I asked.
My voice came out lower. Rougher than I intended.
She raised one eyebrow slowly, meeting my gaze with that silent challenge that threw me off balance far too easily.
“I wasn’t walking around the house. I was going from my room to my daughter’s. Quickly. And I didn’t even know you were lurking around.” A pause. Sharp. “And you—do you really think you get to ask me something like that?”
My jaw locked. My hands curled into fists at my sides.
“I live here.”
“So do I,” she shot back instantly, not raising her voice, not backing down an inch. “Thanks to your boundless generosity. The good news is, I’m perfectly willing to change that. Should I start packing?”
“And that robe is practically begging for an indecency lawsuit,” I growled.
She smiled.
Ironic. Unbothered.
And then she stepped closer. Close enough that I felt the heat of her still-damp skin brush against my space like a provocation.
“Then sue me,” she whispered.
She walked past me with a slow, deliberate stride. Sensual enough to be unmistakable.
I turned.
I couldn’t stop myself.
I watched every step as she walked away down the hall, the loose ribbon at her waist swaying gently—almost begging to be pulled. A silent, dangerous invitation.
My hand actually tingled with the urge.
But I held myself back.
Barely.
Much later, she showed up for dinner like the world was a stage and I was just a spectator to my own downfall.
A black dress. Tight. Merciless. Hugging every curve with infuriating precision. Bare shoulders. And the lipstick—
Red.
Vivid. Shameless.
She had chosen that color on purpose. And she knew that I knew.
We sat across from each other, the perfectly set table serving as an invisible border in an undeclared war. I did a poor job hiding my irritation. Valentina, on the other hand, concealed her satisfaction flawlessly in every calculated movement.
“Are you really going to keep playing this little provocation game?” I asked after a long swallow of wine.
She smiled, almost amused, lifting an eyebrow.
“I’m just existing, Enrico. If my existence alone provokes you this much, maybe you should reevaluate a few things.”
My eyes narrowed.
“That red lipstick is a conscious choice. So is that dress.”
She leaned forward slightly, her voice low, saturated with an irritating sensuality.
“My body. My aesthetic. If it bothers you so much, close your eyes.”
She said it calmly, lifting her glass. Her eyes locked onto mine. A faint, mocking smile at the corner of her mouth.
And then she did something worse.
She bit the rim of the glass.
Her red lips brushed the crystal slowly, deliberately. Her dark eyes held mine in a silence so charged with unspoken meaning that I nearly lost control right there.
I almost stood up.
Almost dragged her into the nearest hallway and forgot every shred of logic and consequence.
But I didn’t.
Again.
And the worst part was that Valentina knew exactly how close I was. She knew about the internal battle. She knew every provocation was a small victory in that silent war.
She knew.
And I hated her for it.
Dinner ended in heavy silence. She stood, smoothed her dress, and walked away without a word.
I watched her go. The sway of her hips was infuriating and delicious. I didn’t even have the energy to demand the rundown of our daughter’s day—the only reason we were supposed to have dinner together every night.
I waited until the sound of her footsteps disappeared before standing.
I went upstairs to my office, needing distance. Needing air. Needing to cool my head and push away the suffocating, contradictory sensation that only Valentina could awaken.
I shut the door and dropped into the chair, releasing a deep, frustrated breath. I rubbed my hands over my face like I could erase the last few hours.
Or maybe the last five years.
Useless.
She had already marked every inch of that house.
And every thought in my head.
The familiar sound of a notification snapped me out of the spiral. I clicked the new email automatically.
The sender wasn’t familiar. The subject line was.
Urgent – Archived Documents
I frowned and opened it.
Dear Mr. Ferrara,
My name is Marina Oliveira. I am an attorney at Valen & Associados. As you were likely informed, Dr. Petros, who was responsible for archiving documents for your family, passed away last month.
I have been assigned to take over his files, and during a recent review I came across documents that are delicate and of extreme importance, directly involving you.
It is imperative that we speak in person as soon as possible to determine how to proceed. Please contact me immediately so we can schedule this meeting.
Sincerely,
Marina Oliveira
I read it once.
Then again.
A cold unease settled deep in my chest. Instinct. Experience. The unmistakable feeling that whatever she had found was not insignificant.
Still, hesitation wasn’t in my nature.
I replied immediately, confirming my availability and requesting urgency.
I hit send.
Watched the confirmation appear on the screen.
I needed to go to S?o Paulo.
And a short, bitter smile crossed my face at the thought.
Valentina was going to hate that.