Chapter 21
VALENTINA
Ipace the guest room like a lunatic. I’ve tried sitting.
That lasted maybe thirty seconds before my skin started crawling.
I’ve tried lying down. That was worse. The second I close my eyes, I see the sedan rounding the corner, hear the crack of the gunshots all over again.
I’m not sure if the baby can feel adrenaline, but I feel guilty for putting it through this.
Sebastian appears in the doorway.
He pauses on the threshold instead of coming straight in. He already understands me better than I thought.
He’s changed his shirt, too. The one from earlier had makeup on the collar and a torn button from when I grabbed him outside the doctor’s office. This one is clean, white, and crisp. No hint of anything amiss.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I stop pacing and stare at him. “Do I look okay?”
“No.”
That almost pulls a laugh out of me, which is deeply unfair. I cross my arms instead and look away before my face betrays me. The ultrasound pictures are still sitting on the dresser where I dropped them when we got home. I can’t stop looking at them. I also can’t bring myself to pick them up.
It’s such a weird, horrible contrast. This morning, I was staring at a blurry little shape on a screen, barely able to believe it was real. Now I’m standing here wondering how close I came to never meeting that little person.
“The doctor called,” Sebastian says. “She wants you to come back tomorrow so she can check you again.”
My stomach drops. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he says quickly. “She just wants to be careful after everything that happened. She said you should rest tonight, hydrate, and call if you have cramping, bleeding, pain, dizziness—anything at all.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did you write that down?”
“Yes.” A smirk. “I also put it in my phone.”
“I don’t need you taking care of me.”
His expression shifts, and for a second I regret saying it. I start pacing again because that feels too intimate to deal with head-on.
“Did you find the car?” I ask, changing the subject.
“We’re working on it,” he answers carefully.
“That means no.”
He steps farther into the room, but not too far.
“Matteo’s pulling every camera within a ten-block radius of the doctor’s office. Nico’s checking the property logs from the clubs and restaurants to see if the same car turned up anywhere else. I have men watching your house and your office.”
“My office?”
“Yes.”
I can feel the reflex to argue clawing up my throat. I want to tell him he can’t just send people to lurk around my business without asking me. Instead, I rub both hands over my face and exhale. “Fine.”
“Fine?” he repeats, surprised.
“Yes. Believe it or not, I do understand how serious the threat is.”
He eyes me. “You did walk into your house after someone broke in.”
He lifts both hands in surrender before I can argue. God, I wish he weren’t right.
“I’ll stay here,” I say, forcing the words out before pride gets the better of me. “For as long as it takes to find Adrian and deal with him.”
Sebastian tilts his head like he can’t believe what he just heard.
“I’m not asking for details,” I say before he can respond. “I don’t want to know what taking care of him means. I can guess well enough.”
His expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes hardens. “Okay.”
That’s all he says.
I look back at the ultrasound pictures on the dresser. Still facedown, tucked halfway under my purse. I should pick them up and put them somewhere safe, but I can’t force myself to touch them.
“I hate this,” I say.
Sebastian doesn’t ask what I mean. Again, I get the sense he knows me better than he’ll say out loud.
“I know.”
My eyes burn, and that pisses me off even more. I don’t want to cry in front of him or dwell on the terrible thing that happened outside that office. Most of all I don’t want to bring up past trauma.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I tell him.
“Then we won’t.”
He comes into the room slowly. When he reaches me, he doesn’t pull me against him or tell me everything is going to be fine. He just holds out his hand. I look at it for a second before I take it. For the first time since the parking lot, I stop pacing.
The next morning, I sit at Sebastian’s dining table with my laptop open, ginger tea going cold beside me, and tell my team over a video call that I’m stepping back for a few weeks.
Tessa starts to tear up, which I hate. If she cries, I’m going to cry, and I don’t think I have any tears left.
“It’s temporary,” I tell her through the screen. “A few weeks, tops. You and Lila can handle the Miller walkthrough on Thursday. I already sent over the vendor notes.”
Tessa nods too quickly, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Of course. We’ve got it.”
“I know you do,” I tell her. “When I get back from my leave, I’m promoting you. You deserve it.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she says, voice thin. “I just want you to be okay. You’re the best boss I’ve ever had.”
I take a deep breath and try desperately not to let the tears start. This is so stupid. These stupid pregnancy hormones make me cry at the worst possible moments.
“I’m not disappearing,” I tell her. “I’m just stepping back from in-person meetings for a few weeks. Veronica has the updated catering notes, and I’ll sit in on the Turner tasting by video.”
Lila nods from her little square on the screen. She looks concerned, but she’s always been better at compartmentalizing than Tessa, who lets out a shaky laugh and wipes under her eye again.
“We can do this.”
“I know you can.” I take a breath and force myself to look directly into the camera. “I’m serious about the promotion, Tessa. You’ve earned it.”
“Thank you,” she says. “That means a lot.”
“I’m still going to be annoying by email so you won’t really miss me all that much.”
That gets a better laugh out of both of them.
After the call ends, I don’t move for a while.
My calendar is still open on the screen.
So many blocks have been shifted to Tessa and Lila that it’s basically blank.
I trust them. That isn’t the problem. The problem is that I built this business so I’d never have to feel helpless again, and Adrian has still managed to steal it from me.
Sebastian comes into the dining room with a plate in one hand. He sets it beside my laptop. “You need to eat.”
I glance at the toast and fruit without much interest.
“You haven’t had breakfast,” he says.
“I’ve been on calls.”
“Which is how I know you need this.” He pushes the plate closer.
I pick up a piece of toast and take a bite, mostly so I don’t have to talk to him.
He stays where he is for another second, then says, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I ask.
“For all of it.”
I rub my thumb over the edge of a fabric square and try to figure out what I’m feeling. Annoyed, obviously. Touched, too, which is the surprising part.
“I’ll be in my office,” he says. “If you need anything.”
“I won’t.”
He nods once and leaves.
For the next two days, I don’t make anything easy for him. He takes most of it in stride, which only makes it worse. He doesn’t crowd me. He doesn’t argue when I’m clearly looking to start a fight. It makes me feel like a rabid animal in a cage. No outlet for my frustration.
On the third afternoon, I’m in the library with my laptop open and fabric samples spread across the coffee table.
“No, Melanie,” I say into the phone. “I understand they look similar in warehouse lighting. Unfortunately, the event will not be held in your warehouse. It will be held in a ballroom with warm uplighting and a bride who can spot the wrong undertone from across a parking lot.”
Sebastian appears in the doorway.
I lift one finger without looking at him.
“Yes,” I continue. “Please send the corrected swatch today. No, not tomorrow. Today.”
He waits until I hang up before speaking.
“I’m starting to understand why your vendors are afraid of you.”
“They aren’t afraid of me. They respect my attention to detail.”
He steps farther into the room, then pauses like he’s choosing his words more carefully than usual. “Gia’s coming over tonight.”
I blink at him in surprise. “What?”
“Nico too. Matteo, if he’s not dealing with something.”
I sit up a little straighter. “Why?”
“You’ve been stuck in this house for three days. I figured having people here might help.”
He doesn’t look smug about it. He doesn’t look like he expects applause. If anything, he looks a little uncomfortable, like thoughtfulness is a suit that doesn’t fit him quite right but he’s wearing it anyway.
I glance down at the fabric samples, unable to meet his gaze.
“You invited everyone because I’m miserable?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“Seven.”
I nod and close my laptop. I haven’t showered in days, and my hair is a tangled mess. Getting presentable is going to take effort. I brush past him on my way upstairs and don’t say another word. Still, I feel his eyes on me as I go.
When I come downstairs at exactly 6:57, Gia is already handing Sebastian her coat. Her face lights up when she sees me.
“Come on,” she says, looping her arm through mine. “I need you to tell Nico that saying ‘you look tired’ is not a compliment, even if he adds ‘but beautiful’ after.”
“It was meant to be supportive,” Nico says from the dining room.
“It was an attack,” Gia yells to him as she leads me toward the table.
I look at my brother. “That was terrible.”
“I’m outnumbered.” He shrugs helplessly.
That’s all it takes to lift the dark cloud hanging over me. My two favorite people in the world arguing over something so inconsequential. Nico takes his seat, and Sebastian appears seemingly out of nowhere to sit beside him.
“Matteo should be here soon,” he says.
It’s all so normal. So domestic. To an outside observer, this would look like a typical dinner between good friends. Maybe, just for a few hours, I can pretend my life really is that simple.