Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Deuce
“Goodbye, Valentina,” Papa croons softly as I lead him away from the car and help him back into his townhouse.
“Nice to meet you, Marcel,” Valentina calls out.
Papa turns at the door and shoots her a wink. It bothers me that they’ve met. Like two very separate worlds colliding, shifting everything I thought I knew about life.
Papa uses the bathroom and I watch Valentina from the front window while I wait.
She’s struggling to unfold herself from the back seat of my Mercedes.
Five-foot-ten people don’t fit in the back of these little cars, no matter how much they claim plenty of room.
Her skirt’s not helping—yes, she returned the scrubs and lab coat to the hospital.
I swallow a startled laugh as she flashes the whole neighborhood as she tumbles out.
I ignore the way my gut tightens at the brief glimpse of black lace.
After I get Papa settled in his chair and he assures me no less than ten times that he’s fine, I head out, slipping back into the driver’s seat.
I lean my head back, eyes closed. It takes some repeated mental mantras and deep breathing to get my heart rate to slow with each exhale.
Eventually I feel my shoulders drop away from my ears.
“You okay?” Valentina asks softly.
My eyes open but I don’t turn my head. I can’t look at her right now. My defenses aren’t rebuilt enough to handle her scrutiny.
“He gets tired after his treatments. Says he can drive himself but I found him a day after his first treatment still in his favorite chair. Hadn’t eaten.
Hadn’t gone to bed. Hadn’t done much but shuffle to the bathroom.
I told myself I’d never let him go to another chemo session without me.
I’ll drop by tomorrow morning to check on him, and I have a church friend of his coming over tonight with dinner. ”
“You’re a good son.”
It’s a simple statement, one I’ve heard before. It means more coming from her though. Compliments from people who already care for you seem jaded. Compliments from people who hate you carry a heavier weight, like it has to be true otherwise they wouldn’t have said it.
I don’t answer, just put the car in gear and head back toward my house.
Lottie knows my schedule and will close up the boutique for me.
She always does on treatment days. I think of the binder Valentina probably left in the storage room and decide I’m glad she left it behind.
One night off from planning the Battle of the Boutiques won’t harm anything. She deserves one peaceful night.
I’m quiet on the drive over, too buried in worry about my father to try to be conversational.
I’m at my front door, Valentina brushing against my chest as she sails through the door before I remember she’s with me.
Fuck. I need to clear my head quickly or Valentina will eat me alive.
The woman can smell weakness like a vulture circling weak prey.
She spins in the entryway and waits for me to shut the door. “Okay, spill. What’s on your mind?”
I sigh, yanking on my tie. I need a good night’s sleep. Everything will be better in the morning. “Not tonight, Valentina. I’m not in the mood to fight.”
She steps into my space, pulling the tie from around my neck and wrapping it neatly around her hand. “Then what are you in the mood for, ciuccio.”
My lips twitch at the nickname. The little seductress, using her sex appeal like a weapon.
Thankfully, it doesn’t work on me any longer, and two can play that game.
I slowly take off my suit jacket. I toss it over the back of the barstool, then unbutton and roll up my sleeves. She watches me the whole time.
“I’m in the mood for my girlfriend to make me dinner, feed me, then tuck me into bed.”
The vision hits me like a freight train.
Hot, heavy, and devastating. We’re teasing each other, but we take the bait anyway.
She lifts up on her toes and goes to work on the top button of my shirt, her hands brushing against my neck.
Her perfume clouds my senses, making my body respond even if I wish it wouldn’t.
The tips of her breasts skim my chest, the touch light, but weighing so much heavier in my thoughts.
She lowers her voice to barely a whisper. “How can you be sure the dinner isn’t laced with poison? Maybe I’ll be tucking you into bed for the last time.”
My fists spring open and land on her hips, holding her in place. I can’t take another press of her body against mine or she’ll feel what she does to me. I tilt my head as she gets the button undone and works on the next. “If you do it right, it’d be a good way to go.”
Valentina lets out a purr. Visions of naked skin, her long legs straddling my waist, my hands reaching up to fist her hair. Like it was all those years ago, but better. So much better now that we’re both older and far more experienced.
I have to put a stop to this before it goes too far.
I’m not sure either one of us would survive another round in bed together.
I let go of her hips to land a quick swat to her ass cheek, skirting the edge of playful and painful.
I smirk down at her, knowing exactly how much she likes playing on that edge.
“Don’t tell Bettina about my father. Swear to me.”
She blinks, and I take it as a victory. She was lost in the same fog of lust I was.
“Why?”
I step back and toe off my shoes like the loss of touch means nothing to me. “Because she’d use it against me somehow. My father is none of her business.”
Valentina puts a fist on one hip, eyes crackling with energy I can’t seem to summon myself. “You need the money she offered for his treatments.”
I dip my head to confirm.
Valentina shakes her head side to side slowly, then drops the fist. “Huh. And here I was thinking you were some lazy asshole rich guy who only cares about money.”
I snort. “Wow. You really think highly of me, huh?”
“Well, you did tell everyone we slept together. Asshole behavior, for sure.”
Now it’s my turn to prop a fist against my hip. “I did not!”
Valentina squares up with me, back in my space. “You did too!”
Suddenly I’m pissed, fully energized and ready to take on the she-devil. My hands land on her shoulders and I’m pushing her against the wall. She lifts her knee lightning quick to jab me in the balls, but I deflect, expecting that response.
“Listen for half a fucking second, woman. You took my virginity—”
“You took my virginity!"
I glare at her, digging my fingers into her shoulders. I want to strangle her. I would never, but the thought does cross my mind for a split second.
“We took each other’s virginities, and then I woke up the next morning.
You were still sleeping. I slipped out of the room to go get muffins from the cook, but before I could bring them back, Fazio intercepted me with a fist to my face.
Told me to leave you alone. I assumed you told him what happened, so I grabbed some ice, then went to find you, irritated that you told him.
But then you met me at the door to your bedroom with the tip of your knife. ”
Valentina’s breathing heavy, but she stares at me in silence for a beat or two. Then she’s shaking her head violently. “No! You crept out of bed, found Fazio, told him all the private details and then tried to creep back into my bed. I didn’t tell Fazio anything.”
“If you told him nothing, then why did he hit me?”
“I don’t know! I just woke up. You were gone. Then Fazio came running in, pissed that you’d touched me. Said you blabbed the whole thing to him. So, yeah, you met the end of my knife, you snitch.”
I stare into her eyes, more blue than gray today, and hope she can tell I’m telling the truth. “I never told Fazio. I told no one. I left that day and never came back. Bettina was so pissed I left without telling her.”
“I swear on my life I didn’t tell Fazio either.”
We stare at each other for long moments. I’m not sure how we reach the same conclusion but clearly something happened all those years ago. Something we’ve been blaming each other for. Something that’s also entirely false.
“You’ve hated me all these years because you thought I slept with you and then snitched?”
Valentina loses the fierce look. Her eyes go round and soft. “You thought I slept with you and snitched to Fazio, then knifed you, and you never came back after that?”
I shake my head slowly, fingers now kneading the tight shoulder muscles under my palms. “I never came back for several reasons. Bettina’s life was not the life I wanted and the girl I kept coming back for every summer didn’t want me either. There was nothing to come back for.”
I see my words wash over her. I feel the way her body slumps, as if releasing every tense muscle like she doesn’t have to keep her guard up around me any longer.
Her eyes fill with a shine that’s not normal.
She blinks rapidly and tries to look away, but it’s not working.
I take pity on her and release her, stepping back and giving her room to process.
She grumbles something, looking at the painting on the wall behind me. I’m pretty sure she said she was sorry, but I have a deep need to hear it again.
“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.”
Valentina’s gaze snaps to mine, back to fiery and not exactly contrite. “I said I was sorry for knifing you!” she practically shouts at me.
I stifle a laugh. As far as apologies go, it’s the weirdest one I’ve ever received. I also know how much it cost her to say it.
Without rubbing her nose in it, I hold my hand out. “Truce?”
She wrinkles her nose, but ends up taking my hand. “I hope your pickles are always sweet,” she grumbles.
I pump our hands up and down. “I don’t like sweet pickles.”
Her triumphant smile tells me she already knows this tidbit about me.
“I won’t tell Bettina about your dad. I swear it,” she says, hand still in mine.
“And I won’t tell her about your anxiety.”
She lifts her nose in the air. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
At the same time, we realize we’re still holding hands. We both whip our hands back and look away. I step back again and clear my throat.
“How about we make some dinner?”
Valentina nods more vigorously than the question calls for. “Sure. Sounds great.”
She follows me into the kitchen, where she offers to make the best grilled cheese I’ve ever tasted. I help her find all the things she needs and then get busy steaming some broccoli to go along with the sandwiches. She’s plating the grilled cheese when I remember what I wanted to tell her.
“Hey, I’ve seen a guy I don’t know cruise by the boutique a few times this week.”
Valentina puts down the pan with a clank and gives me her full focus. “Description of the car?”
“Non-descript sedan, gray, four door, newer model. Didn’t catch the license plate number, but it’s an Alabama plate.”
“Could be a rental. Got cameras on the front of the boutique?”
“Yeah, one on the front and several inside.”
“Let’s check those tomorrow morning and I’ll run the plates. See if any of the cameras picked up his face. I can run that through a database too.”
I smirk at her. She’s hot when she goes all mob boss on me. “Could just be a tourist.”
She hands me a plate with an oozing grilled cheese, heated to buttery perfection. “Tourist with a weird fascination with your shop? Not likely. Do you have guns here at the house?”
I scoop up broccoli and put some on our plates before heading to the breakfast table. I put my plate down and pull out her chair. She has a seat and lets me push her in. Look at us being all friendly.
“Yes. Of course I have a gun. It’s locked away though.”
“Great. Do you know how to use it?” She holds up her grilled cheese but waits until I’ve taken a bite before partaking of her own.
An explosion of warm, gooey cheese and crunchy, buttery bread hits my taste buds. I squeeze my eyes shut and enjoy it. Small pleasures in life should be savored.
“Holy shit, V,” I mutter through a mouthful. Then I swallow. “And yes, of course, I know how to use it. Am I Bettina’s son?”
“When was the last time you shot?”
Well, shit. She’s got me there.
I grumble an answer through another bite of food.
Her mouth hooks into a smirk. “What’s that? I can’t hear you.”
I shoot her a dirty look for tossing my snark back in my face. “It’s been a few years.”
“That’s what I thought. Let’s go to the range tomorrow.”
I want to bitch about having a boutique to run, but she’s right. I should brush the cobwebs off my skills in order to protect her better. And this grilled cheese is good enough to lull me into whatever she asks for. Can’t remember the last time I had a woman cook for me.
“Fine.”
“Fine,” she says firmly.
And then we eat in companionable silence.
This truce is going to work splendidly.