Chapter 3
MAX
The leather of my belt scraped against my knuckles as I threaded it back through the loop, darting my gaze across the room.
Valentina sat perched on the white chair, with her arm resting over the back of it. Her breasts spilled out of her lacy blue bra, just enough to remind me of how close she always seemed to play it.
“Put your clothes back on,” I rasped, the words dry in my throat. My muscles clenched as I pushed myself to my feet and snatched her blouse off the floor. Its delicate fabric felt like cobwebs against my calloused hand. I threw it at her feet.
Then a slow, smug smile played on her lips, perfectly painted and utterly infuriating. “It’s okay, Max,” Valentina said in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Some men have those problems.”
There were no problems. Not on my end.
“I know how to fuck,” I demanded. “But women with obvious daddy issues don’t really do it for me anymore.”
“Shame. Maybe it would help if I dyed my hair red for you.”
There was another lump in my throat. I knew what she was implying, and I was shocked she had the nerve to say something like that to me.
My desires were clear, and the truth was far more agonizing.
I should’ve known Valentina would use her body to get information.
This charade was nothing but a pathetic attempt to manipulate me.
Valentina’s courage grated on my nerves. I wished I could wipe the self-assured smirk off her face. It was practiced, flawless, the kind she’d learned through years of manipulating men who had more money than sense. I wouldn’t be one of them. This little game of hers was about to come to an end.
“The fuck did you just say?” I retorted sharply. She thought testing me was a smart decision, so I wanted to show her how stupid it really was.
She stood from the chair. Her heels clicked against the floor as the stomp in her step reflected her positive mood.
She had a prissy attitude. She also had the upper hand.
She hadn’t bothered putting her blouse back on after her show.
Instead she’d thrown her pink faux-fur coat on over it.
She looked like a hooker who wore alcoholism as an accessory.
“Oh, I’m sure you heard me,” she said.
Valentina knew more than I wanted her to. She knew everything now.
“What would Liam think if he found out his second-hand man was after his daughter?”
There it was.
My jaw clenched. Was she ignorant or manipulative?
Maybe both, but her ignorance left me wondering if she could connect her last two working brain cells to figure it out—if she even had two left.
Except I knew she did. Valentina was one of the most conniving people I’d ever met. It was dangerous to be around her.
“I’ve never touched her,” I admitted. It was true. I hadn’t, no matter how much I’d wanted to. I’d taken precautions to keep my identity hidden, but somehow, Valentina knew.
Damn drama queen.
Her glare told me she’d get what she wanted. She wasn’t trying to seduce me, I knew, yet there was no way out of it. She just wanted to know how I felt about Liam’s daughter so she could blackmail me for money.
“Maybe not, but you’ve been screwing up his plans.”
Reaching out, I grabbed a fistful of her slicked-back ponytail, wrapping it around my palm twice before yanking her head back with enough force to expose the sharp angles of her cheekbones. “You’ll be keeping your mouth shut, Valentina,” I warned.
“I could,” she gloated. “But I fear that’ll cost you extra.”
My grip loosened until I’d let her go. I was stuck paying her to keep her mouth shut—it was a shame I couldn’t get anything else out of her.
“Threatening me again. I’m shocked.” I drew in a long breath. “Why don’t you go ask your husband for money, huh? Does he not have enough to distract you?”
She laughed. “Relax, mijo. I’m kidding. I have money and my dignity. A shame you can’t say the same.”
“What do you want? Spit it out.”
“Nothing. You’ll be a dead man soon enough—I don’t want to get too attached.” She winked before drawing in a breath. “He’s catching on to you. Testing you.”
“Probably because you can’t keep your damn mouth shut.”
“Neither can my niece. You seem to have a thing for that.”
I scoffed. Valentina was hardly an aunt. She’d married Cillian, Liam’s brother-in-law, a year ago. All she’d had to do to earn her spot in the family was bat her lashes; meanwhile, I’d had to do unspeakable things to be where I was, working directly under Liam.
“Stay out of this,” I urged.
“You need to leave that girl alone.”
“I haven’t overstepped my boundaries, Valentina, but you are. Next time I speak with your husband, I might slip up and tell him how I know you have a tattoo under your breast. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Her confidence drifted away. She was nervous, which was an odd reaction from Valentina. Did she fear Cillian? The chances were likely.
She straightened her posture, taking in a long breath before saying, “Liam would kill you if he found out what you were doing. Test me—go ahead. You’re getting sloppy.”
“I have it all figured out.”
“You don’t. Quit while you’re ahead, or the next funeral I’ll be attending will be yours, and that would be a shame.” Her dark eyes scrutinized me from head to toe. “You’re too pretty to die, Romano,” she said with such certainty I almost believed her.