Chapter 60
SIXTY
VALENTINA FERRARA
That morning began exactly like so many others had over the past few weeks: the table set with care, Clara already sitting in her seat, chatting animatedly about some cartoon she’d watched on TV, while Enrico finished making the pancakes that had recently become his specialty.
I watched him discreetly as I finished setting the plates, noticing how naturally our morning dynamic had evolved.
Despite all the barriers I still tried to build between us, the reality was clear: together, Enrico and I made a good team—especially when it came to taking care of our daughter.
“Mom, can I take a different fruit in my lunchbox today?” Clara asked, her big gray eyes shining with expectation.
“Of course, sweetheart. What do you want?” I answered distractedly, sitting down at the table while trying to avoid looking at Enrico, who was now carefully placing the pancakes in front of her with a loving smile.
“Grapes!” Clara replied excitedly, already grabbing her little fork.
Enrico sat down beside me right after that—too close for me to completely ignore him, even though I tried.
“Alright, grapes it is,” I agreed.
But before I could focus on my plate again, Clara turned to me with a serious expression, full of childlike curiosity.
“And your birthday, Mom? What are you going to do for your birthday this week?”
My heart jumped instantly, and I couldn’t help casting a discreet, anxious glance in Enrico’s direction. Did he remember?
It had been so long. I’d grown used to celebrating that date with just Júlia and Clara over the past few years. But now, with Enrico back in my life, I had no idea what to expect.
He remained silent, his eyes lowered to his coffee cup, his expression unreadable. I swallowed hard, a strange twinge tightening in my chest. Maybe it was better this way. I didn’t want to create unnecessary expectations.
Weeks had passed since the gala in S?o Paulo, and since then Enrico had shown himself to be relentless in his efforts to seduce me.
He did small things—things I stubbornly insisted on interpreting as trivial gestures—even though my body and my heart reacted as if each detail were a silent declaration.
Unexpected flowers at the bakery. Short messages during the day with small reminders that he was thinking about me. Coffee made exactly the way I liked it. Secret smiles he threw my way, powerful enough to melt whatever resistance I still had left.
And there were the touches. Subtle—but far too effective at driving me insane.
And the sex…
I simply couldn’t resist the sex anymore.
I kept pretending none of it affected me, that I was indifferent to the effort he was making, but it was becoming increasingly clear that my indifference was nothing more than a facade.
A facade that grew more fragile by the day.
“Mom?” Clara insisted, snapping me abruptly out of those dangerous thoughts.
I turned my attention back to my daughter, doing my best to hide the blush that now rose quickly to my cheeks.
“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t know…” I tried to deflect. “We’ll probably have dinner with your Aunt Júlia, like we do every year. Nothing special.”
Clara immediately made an adorable face of disapproval, crossing her little arms and huffing dramatically.
“Mom, birthdays are always special!” she protested with the absolute conviction only children have, before turning straight to Enrico as if instinctively seeking an ally. “Don’t you think, Uncle Enrico?”
At that moment, Enrico finally lifted his eyes to me, and the expression on his face made my heart stumble clumsily in my chest.
His gaze was loaded with meaning, intimacy, and a vivid, powerful memory of the birthdays we’d shared before everything collapsed between us.
“Your mom really does deserve something special, Clara,” he said, never once taking his eyes off mine.
His voice came out low, rough, and so full of implication that I had to turn my face away immediately, completely affected.
I swallowed hard, feeling the heat deepen as I tried to regain some control over my emotions.
“I really don’t need anything special, Clara,” I murmured, absentmindedly stroking my daughter’s dark hair. “Having you with me is already everything I need.”
Enrico stayed silent for a few more seconds, his eyes still fixed on me with an almost unbearable intensity, before finally turning back to his coffee, a subtle smile forming on his lips.
“Well, on that point your mom is right, Clara,” he said calmly, though I could hear the teasing edge in his voice. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do something special for her too.”
He winked at Clara, who immediately clapped her hands, thrilled by the idea.
And I realized, in silence, that I was completely lost—because it took only those few words for the expectation I’d been bragging, just a minute earlier, about not having created to bloom inside my chest.
Huge.
Fully formed.
Ready to live on its own.
***
My breathing was still uneven, my body trembling and sated as Enrico remained over me, inside me, his forehead resting against mine while we tried to regain some control over our bodies, still lost in bliss.
He lifted his face, his dark, deep eyes locked onto mine, filled with a satisfaction and tenderness so intense that my chest tightened painfully.
“I love being inside you like this—without barriers,” he murmured hoarsely, caressing my face.
My body pulsed around him in response, and Enrico laughed softly, still not moving, as if he wanted to stretch that moment for as long as possible.
I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning as I bit my lower lip to keep from saying that I felt exactly the same. It was impossible to deny how much I loved that feeling too—our physical connection completely free, total, absolute.
Bless the IUD I’d had placed shortly after Clara was born—even though, for all those years, it had never actually been necessary as contraception.
Not until that moment.
Not until Enrico had returned to my life with a force so overwhelming that I had no physical resistance left.
Throughout all those years, the only touch my body had known was my own. At first, not even that.
First, because I was too lost to think about anything beyond emotional survival. Then, because the hurt and resentment were too deep to allow me to open my body and my heart to someone else again.
And finally, because it simply didn’t make sense.
I had never been the kind of woman who sought casual pleasure. What I wanted—what I had always wanted—was love.
Kisses after the climax. Bodies tangled until sleep came. Silly laughter. Whispered conversations. A specific scent that made me feel at home.
So as Enrico looked at me that way—so intimate and vulnerable—his lips occasionally brushing my skin, his eyes saying everything his heart felt, I suddenly realized, terrified, that this was exactly what was happening.
My heart began to race with sudden anxiety.
I gently pushed his chest, easing him away as he frowned in surprise.
“Valentina?” he asked softly, cautiously, as I got out of bed quickly, still trying to organize my completely tangled thoughts and emotions.
“It’s fine,” I said hurriedly, grabbing my clothes from the floor, my face hot with embarrassment and nerves as I dressed as fast as I could. “I’m just… tired.”
He immediately sat up, the sheet sliding slowly down his naked body as he reached out and caught my hand, stopping me from leaving.
“Hey—wait. Don’t leave like this, please,” Enrico asked, his expression serious now, sincere, vulnerable. “Stay with me. Sleep here tonight, Valentina.”
I swallowed hard and bit my lip, looking straight into his eyes, feeling utterly exposed by the vulnerability I saw in him at that moment.
My heart screamed for me to stay—to let myself enjoy the intimacy I had wanted for so long and that he was now offering openly.
But my fear was still too great.
This was how it had to be.
I might have completely lost control over my body, but my mind was still mine. And because of that, I always left as soon as we were done.
I had to go.
“I can’t,” I murmured almost in a whisper, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. “It’s better this way, Enrico. I… I can’t.”
He sighed heavily, squeezing my hand gently, his eyes insistent yet kind, full of a patience that only made leaving harder.
“You don’t have to leave every time we make love, Valentina,” he said calmly, his gaze locked onto mine with almost painful intensity. “You don’t have to run from me. You don’t have to run from what we have. Not anymore.”
I took a deep breath, emotion tightening my throat as I pulled my hand free, even though my heart protested fiercely.
“I do, Enrico. It’s better this way,” I repeated firmly, trying to convince myself more than him.
He remained still for a moment, watching me with a patience and tenderness that only deepened my inner conflict.
“Alright,” he finally agreed, sadness unmistakable in his voice. “But I want you to know—no matter how many times you leave, I’ll always be waiting for the day you finally decide to stay.”
A knot formed in my throat.
Before I could change my mind—before I could give in again to that dangerous feeling—I turned quickly and left the room, closing the door softly behind me.
In the quiet hallway, far from Enrico’s intense gaze, I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart as I closed my eyes, fighting the tears of frustration and desire threatening to fall.
I couldn’t keep running forever.
But right then, running still felt like the only thing I knew how to do.
***
“Are you sure this is really necessary?” I complained once again as I stumbled clumsily while getting out of the car. The soft fabric of the blindfold pressed against my eyes, plunging everything into complete darkness. “My God, I never imagined walking blindfolded would be this hard!”
Clara’s delighted laugh echoed nearby as her little hands squeezed mine tightly.
“Mom, it’s way easier to make my dolls walk in the right direction than you!” she teased, tugging my hand forward.
I couldn’t help laughing, shaking my head as I stumbled again—only to be immediately steadied by Enrico’s strong, firm arms as he positioned himself at my side.
“Careful, Valentina,” he murmured near my ear, his tone full of amusement. His hands wrapped around my waist, holding me steady against his warm body for a moment that lasted far too long to be innocent. “I can’t let you fall now, can I?”
A delicious heat spread through me as I tried to ignore how completely that simple touch still disoriented me.
I let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning indignation as I shook my head.
“I still think this is ridiculous! Couldn’t you just tell me where we’re going?”
“And ruin the whole surprise?” Clara exclaimed indignantly. “No way!”
Enrico chuckled softly, reassuring, as he continued guiding me by the hand.
All my senses were alert, desperately trying to identify where we were by scent or sound—but the only thing I could truly distinguish was the soft fragrance of flowers mixed with Enrico’s familiar, woodsy scent.
Finally, I felt them stop. Clara released my hand quickly, buzzing with excitement.
“We’re here!” she announced brightly.
I sensed Enrico step behind me, his body close as he carefully untied the blindfold.
His fingers brushed gently along my face, sending subtle shivers across my skin.
When the fabric finally fell away, I blinked several times, adjusting to the light.
The scene before me took a few seconds to fully make sense.
Standing there was the large historic manor that had always been a landmark in Tiradentes—the one I’d often mentioned casually to Júlia, saying how wonderful it would be to see it restored and preserved.
And then, all at once, dozens of voices echoed from inside:
“SURPRISE!”
My heart leapt violently in my chest as I stared at the smiling, welcoming crowd before me: Júlia with a huge grin and mischief sparkling in her eyes; familiar faces from the town I loved so much; and—to my complete shock—even my parents, smiling broadly, tears shining in their eyes.
I turned to Enrico, stunned.
“Enrico…? What is all this?”
He smiled, taking my hands in his and holding my gaze.
“Happy birthday, Valentina,” he said calmly. “You deserve more than a gift. You deserve something that reflects who you are—to me, to our daughter, and to this city.”
I swallowed hard, tears threatening as I stood frozen.
“This manor is yours now,” he continued steadily. “But that’s not all. It’s the beginning of a project I designed specifically for you: the Clara Ferrara Institute.”
My heart pounded violently, his words crashing into me with overwhelming force.
“An institute…?” I repeated faintly.
“Yes,” he nodded, pride evident in his voice. “An organization that will take care of the city—its history, its people. A place that will let you do what you’ve always wanted: take care of Tiradentes the way you take care of everyone around you.”
My eyes filled with tears as my heart raced, heavy with emotion. He had understood exactly who I was—and what I wanted.
“And you’re going to be the boss, Mom!” Clara exclaimed excitedly, clapping beside us.
Enrico smiled, gently pulling me against him as our eyes stayed locked with almost painful intensity.
“You’re the only person who can lead this, Valentina.
The institute is yours—not just because you deserve it more than anyone, but because you’re the one who will give it life and soul.
” His eyes shone with love and admiration that left me defenseless.
“It’s your birthday gift. I hope you’ll accept it. ”
In that moment, surrounded by the emotional gazes of so many people I loved, I couldn’t speak.
All I could do was nod, letting my tears finally fall as Enrico wrapped me in his strong, protective arms—understanding what he was truly telling me with that powerful gesture.
He truly knew—and loved—who I was.
And he was willing to do anything to prove it.
For the first time in years, I allowed myself to feel real hope, surrendering quietly to the deep happiness of that perfect moment.