Chapter 13 - Valentin
Knowing they’re here watching her has me wound up all tight.
The Zakharov men are scanning the café, and I fear they’ll come round back to see where she went. I have no time to explain that I disappeared before they noticed Gela had back-up, just so I could keep the element of surprise as a weapon.
“We need to move,” I whisper. “Now.”
I loosen my grip just enough to look down at her face. That panic edging my senses now dulls, with Gela finally in my arms.
“Bathroom,” I mouth, and she nods.
We slip deeper into the hallway, and I keep my body positioned between her and the entrance to this hall.
We move fast and reach the bathroom within seconds. I usher her inside the single-occupancy room and lock the door behind us.
“We have to get out.” I point to the square window opening high on the wall. “It's tight, but we have to make it work.”
“Are you serious?” she hisses.
“We can’t go out from the front. They’ll find us!” I insist. “I'll boost you up first.”
“Fine,” she says after throwing a fearful look at the door.
I lace my fingers together to make a step for her foot. “Ready?”
She takes off her heels, and I see her eyes widen with fear as she moves toward me. “You sure?” she asks again, like she’s praying for another way.
“This is it, Gela. Come on, please…”
She reluctantly places her feet in my hands and grips my shoulder for balance. I remain as still as I can, needing to get her out of here as quickly as I can. Just the thought of her ending up in their hands gets my heart racing.
I use all my strength to boost her up toward the window without her having to struggle for it, and she catches the ledge, pulling herself up.
For a split second, I allow myself to admire the curve of her body as she wriggles through the tight opening.
But then, someone starts banging loudly and rapidly on the door. Gela gasps as she throws me a petrified look through the window.
Whoever is on the other side now kicks so hard that the door rattles.
“Hurry, they’re coming!” she whispers.
I grab the trash can, jump onto it, grab the window ledge, and pull myself up as quickly as I can. The window frame scrapes against my back as I force myself through.
Just as I tumble out into the alley behind the café, I hear wood splintering. The door won't hold much longer.
“Run!” I grab Gela's hand, and we sprint down the alley.
The alley opens onto a side street, and I pull her sharply to the left, toward where I parked.
“Almost there,” I pant as we round another corner.
Behind us, I hear shouting. Those men must have figured out where we went.
We reach my car, both of us breathless. I unlock the car with the remote and run to the driver’s side. “Get in!” I urge Gela.
Within seconds, we’re both inside with the doors closed. I slam down on the tires, driving away as fast as I can. When I look into the rear-view mirror, I see the two men from the café stop just where the car had been parked.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “That was close.”
“Too close.” Gela’s voice is small and terrified. I throw her a look, and she’s ashen in the face. Her shoulders are pressed into the seat so hard it’s like she’s in a permanent state of feeling threatened.
“I’m going to take a different route home, okay?” I say, keeping my eyes on the road ahead and behind. “Just in case they’re following.”
She doesn’t respond. She’s still trembling.
I take a bunch of random turns, and only when I’m sure there’s no car I recognize behind us, do I take the turn for our house.
“Do you see them?” Gela asks, curling into herself like she’s too tired to look back.
“No. I think we’re good,” I mutter, but take a look around just for safety.
Twenty minutes of paranoid driving later, we finally pull through the gates of my estate, where armed guards patrol the perimeter.
“You can breathe now,” I tell her, though my own heart is still pounding.
She doesn't say a word. She just stares straight ahead, and her silence worries me more than if she were panicking. I’d take her yelling over this hollow look any day.
I park in the garage, and we sit there for a moment, during which neither of us moves. I wait for her to register we’re back, but I don’t think she does.
“Gela,” I say softly. “We're home. We're safe.”
She nods but doesn't move.
I turn in my seat to face her properly. “They didn't follow us. We're okay.”
“This time,” she whispers.
I reach for her hand, and she doesn't pull away.
“Come on,” I say gently. “Let's get inside.”
Once inside, I settle her down in the living room and head into the kitchen to make her some chamomile tea. When I come back, she’s sitting on the couch with a throw wrapped around her, staring into the distance.
“Here.” I press the cup into her hands. “Have a sip.”
She nods absent-mindedly and takes one forced sip before setting the cup down. To ease her into telling me what’s on her mind, I speak first.
“I was sitting at the café when I saw them. I didn’t think much of them at first, but then I noticed their tattoos, and each of them had one of the Zakharov unit.
I got worried as hell, Gela, but if they saw me, it would’ve caused a scene, and I feared you could get injured.
So I hid and waited. If you had left the café, I would have followed. You know that…don’t you?”
I begin to feel guilty. What if she’s pale and terrified because she thinks I abandoned her?
“I know that,” she whispers, and doesn’t even bother looking at me. There’s no rage, no disappointment, no confusion on her face. If my move isn’t the problem, what is?
I’m throwing darts in the dark here, but I take my shot. “I hope you’re not worried about your client being a spy. I need you to know that I did some research on the company and on Jason as well. Trust me when I say, he looks legit. Today was just a case of bad timing, I think.”
She nods, but something in her expression tells me I've missed the mark yet again.
Then it hits me. Today was full of triggers that must have reminded her of being cornered by men with guns in her office, until I saved her.
“Gela,” I say softly. “Are you thinking about what happened at your office?”
Her head snaps up, and I feel like I’ve cracked through her walls, thank god.
“I can't stop seeing it,” she admits in a shaky voice. “Every time I close my eyes, I see them pointing their guns at me, and the fear comes back so strong, I feel like I’m reliving that moment.”
Something in my chest twists painfully, and I move closer, placing an arm around her shoulders. When she doesn't pull away, I draw her nearer.
“I won't let anything happen to you,” I promise, meaning every word.
She leans into me, and I feel her body soften. “You can't promise that.”
“Watch me,” I growl.
We sit in silence for a few moments, and she lets her head drop to my shoulder. It's strange how natural it feels to sit in silence with her. I just wish she weren’t feeling so anxious.
“You know,” I whisper, needing her to know that none of this was easy on me either. “Watching the way your client looked at you while I hid ate at me.”
She pulls back and looks at me with surprise. “What? Jason?”
“He kept checking you out.” I frown. “I didn't like it at all.”
“He was not,” she protests, but I can see a hint of color returning to her cheeks.
“Trust me, I know that look. Men don't look at potential colleagues with that kind of interest.”
She rolls her eyes. “So what, you were jealous?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Is that so terrible?”
“Yes,” she says firmly. “It is when it makes you want to hurt someone. That's not healthy, Valentin.”
“What's not healthy is how I feel when another man looks at my wife that way,” I say, and the word 'wife' suddenly feels very heavy on my tongue from how true it rings in my heart.
The air between us suddenly begins to thrum, and I become acutely aware of every point our bodies touch. Her eyes dance between mine, almost shyly, like she’s afraid of me knowing what she feels.
“Well, having a wife is more than a signature on a paper,” she whispers reluctantly. “It's... wanting the same things.”
Her eyes drop to my lips, and then she looks away, like it’s too good to be true. I think back to that day after we kissed in my office and how she’d told me it can’t happen again. Her words were confident, but there was disappointment in her eyes when I took it without a fight.
“And what if I do want the same things as you?” I lean closer, testing my theory. “What if I want more than just your safety, Gela?”
“What more would you want?” Her eyes widen, and her voice hitches in her throat, a breathlessness to it.
Time between us stretches into a tight wire, and I know I want my next words to be honest, because she has to feel it too.
“What if I say I want to touch you without having to make excuses to do it?”
She goes perfectly still, and I pull my arm back from around her shoulder, turning to her. When I do, she does too, until our faces are inches apart.
“I think about your skin under my hands.” I brush my fingers lightly down her arm, feeling her shiver. “About what sounds you'd make if I touched you just right.”
“But what if it’s a bad idea?” she whispers as she leans closer.
“We’ll never know until we try.” I reach up to cup her face, my thumb brushing her lower lip. “Tell me to stop, Gela. Tell me you don't want this, too.”
Her brows furrow, and for a moment, I think this will be the moment she tells me she wants me to stop. But the next thing I know, her eyes soften, and she whispers my name in surrender.
She begins to move, inch by inch, her eyes flicking to my lips, and I meet her halfway. When I kiss her, she’s soft and warm and feels like coming home.
My heart instantly soars, while my head tells me never to let her go.
She came dangerously close to trouble today, and I want to kiss her silly, taste away my hunger, soothe away her worries, until nothing but Gela and I exist.
I savor the taste of her, the softness of her lips, the little gasp she makes when I deepen the kiss. Her hands curl into my shirt, and I slide my hand to the back of her neck, cradling her head.
The kiss stretches, slow and sweet, and I never want it to end.
But then, she pulls away with those swollen lips of hers and eyes dark with want. It takes everything in me not to push her back against the couch and show her exactly what she does to me.
“Still think this is a bad idea?” I ask, worried I might have pushed her too far.
She looks at me for a long moment, then shakes her head slowly. “Probably. But I don't care anymore.”
And then she's the one pulling me back in.