Chapter 19 Valentina
VALENTINA
I pull away from Cristian, frustration burning hot.
The most beautiful, perfect moment of my life has been shattered by his bringing reality back.
"I know what world I was born into," I snap. "How could I forget? I’m reminded every day that I have no power. That my value comes from my vagina.”
He winces at the word vagina, which only makes me more angry. “Now you’re repulsed by my vagina? You certainly didn’t mind it a few minutes ago.”
All of a sudden, I want out of this room. It doesn’t feel like the sanctuary it did when we got here.
"I’m sorry for the life you have to live, Valentina.
I’d change it for you if you could. Hell knows, I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out how to help you, but I’m as powerless to change your life as you are.
At least in a way that doesn’t have you looking over your shoulder every second of your life. ”
He’s right.
I shouldn’t take out my problems on him, when all he’s been is gentle and protective of me.
He’s risked his life more than once.
I’m selfish and greedy to ask for more.
“You should sleep," Cristian says, his deep voice gentle. "Tomorrow will be difficult enough."
He approaches from behind, his warm hands settling on my shoulders.
The concern I feel through his touch only makes me more frustrated.
Even his comfort feels like another form of control now.
"Don't you get tired of it?" I ask, not turning around. "Having every aspect of your life dictated by someone else's rules?"
"Of course I do," he admits. "But I made my peace with it a long time ago. What’s different is that it’s my choice. I chose this life. You didn’t."
I turn to face him, anger and frustration gone, replaced with defeat. "I don't think I can make peace with it. Not when it means giving myself to a monster."
Cristian pulls me against his chest, and I let him.
His arms are the only safe place I have, and yet another reminder of everything I can't have.
"I just want to choose my own fate," I say. "Just once."
He doesn’t say anything, but what is there to say? Nothing.
I slip away from his embrace, suddenly needing space to think. "I'm going to shower.”
He watches me for a moment and then nods. "I'll go get us some food.” He grabs his pants and steps into them.
Once alone in the bathroom, I turn the shower on to scalding.
I step under the hot spray and let the water cascade over me, washing away the physical evidence of what Cristian and I shared.
My fingers trace over my skin.
It doesn’t feel any different. Except for the slight soreness between my thighs, I’m no different than I was before I handed my virginity over.
I guess I thought I’d feel different. More grown up or womanly, maybe.
For a moment, I thought I did, but then real life intruded again.
But I don’t regret sleeping with Cristian.
In this case, I got what I wanted. I chose who would take my virginity, and it was someone who made me feel cherished.
“I didn’t use protection. If you get pregnant…” Cristian’s words come back to me. The thought of pregnancy sends a chill through me.
Not because I wouldn't want Cristian's child, but because of what Alessandro or Maksim would do if they found out.
But I push the worry aside.
What’s done is done and I'm about to get my period.
If what I remember is true from health education, I’m past the fertile stage this month.
So instead I focus on memorizing every sensation, every touch, every whispered word from Cristian.
When I'm lying beside Maksim, enduring whatever horror he inflicts, I'll close my eyes and remember how it felt to be with Cristian.
I step out of the shower, wrapping a thin hotel towel around my body. "Cristian?" I call out, pushing the bathroom door open.
The room is empty.
My heartbeat quickens as I scan the small space.
Rumpled sheets, my clothes on the floor, but no sign of him.
No note.
Nothing.
Fear slices through me.
Did Maksim's men find us?
Did Cristian decide I was too much trouble and abandon me?
Or worse, did Alessandro somehow discover what happened and…?
I force myself to breathe and then remember he said he was going to get food.
Remembering that does little to quell the panic, but not all the way.
I'm alone, without a phone, without a weapon, and the only person who stands between me and Maksim is gone.
I clutch the towel tighter and move to the window, carefully peering through the curtain.
The door clicks open behind me and I whirl around, nearly losing my towel in the process.
Cristian steps in, carrying a plastic bag. "I found a convenience store that also had burner phones and—” He stops, noticing my expression. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I lie, relief washing over me. "I just… thought you might not come back."
Irritation flashes across his face. “I told you, I would always protect—”
“I know. I’m sorry. Just being alone, my mind…”
He sets the bag down and crosses to me, his hand gentle on my cheek. "I'm not going anywhere.”
When I nod, he kisses me on the forehead, which feels like a reminder that we’re back to bodyguard and Mafia princess, despite the fact that I’m in a barely-there towel.
I dress as he sets up the meal of turkey sandwiches, chips, candy bar, and soda.
We talk about nothing important, favorite movies, childhood memories that don't involve the family business.
He doesn't mention my forged note or the trouble it's caused, which I’m grateful for.
In this dingy hotel room, sharing junk food with a man I can never truly have, I feel something I haven't felt in months. Safe.
When it gets late, I slide into bed, feeling exhausted and yet, I’m not sure I can sleep.
I was nearly killed and then later had the most pleasurable night of my life.
I’ve felt the two most opposite emotions tonight, terror and bliss.
He checks the windows and door for the umpteenth time. His broad shoulders are tense, jaw set in that serious expression he wears when he's in protection mode.
"Come to bed.” I pat the mattress beside me.
He doesn't look at me as he grabs the chair and moves it next to the window. "I need to keep watch."
I bite my lip, wanting to ask for more of what we shared earlier.
My body still hums with the memory of his touch, and I ache to feel that connection again.
Especially knowing this is the only night we’ll have together.
"We could…" I trail off.
Cristian's eyes flick to me, and I see the same hunger there that I feel. But he shakes his head. "You should sleep."
He turns away again, and while I can see him, I feel alone.
I pull the covers up and watch him through half-closed eyes.
He sits in the chair by the window, gun resting on his thigh, eyes trained on the parking lot below.
I drift off eventually, lulled by the strange sense of safety his vigilance provides.
When I wake, the digital clock reads 3:17 AM.
Cristian hasn't moved from his post, though I notice his posture has slumped slightly.
I slip out of bed and pad across the cold floor to him.
"Your turn to rest," I say, touching his shoulder. "I'll keep watch."
"I'm fine," he insists, but his voice is rough with exhaustion.
"Of course you are, but I need you at your most alert tomorrow.” I figure if I make it about protecting me, he might listen. “I can handle this for a few hours."
He hesitates, looking torn between duty and necessity.
"Please," I add. "Let me help. I'm not completely useless, you know."
This draws a tired smile from him. "Never said you were."
After another moment of reluctance, he rises from the chair. "Wake me at the slightest sound," he instructs.
I nod, taking his place in the chair as he finally surrenders to the bed.
At first, I’m excited to be the bodyguard for once. But the novelty wears off quickly. It’s boring to sit in the dark.
I jolt awake to a shadow looming over me. I'm still in the chair by the window. A small strip of sunlight streams through the gap in the curtains.
“Some lookout you are,” Cristian says, smirking at me. “I left to get coffee, took a shower, and you slept through it all.”
Droplets of water drip down his chest and I realize he’s mocking me in only a towel.
"What time is it?"
"Almost eight." He gestures to two paper cups on the nightstand. "Yours is getting cold."
Embarrassment heats my cheeks.
I was supposed to keep watch, to prove I wasn't helpless.
Instead, I fell asleep like a child while he continued to handle everything.
"You should have woken me," I grumble, stretching my stiff neck.
"You looked peaceful. I didn't have the heart."
That smug expression is still on his face.
My eyes drift to the towel wrapped around his waist, and inspiration strikes.
"Well, I'm awake now," I say, my fingers darting out to tug at the edge of his towel.
The white fabric falls away easily, pooling around his feet.
His eyes widen in surprise as he stands before me in all his naked glory.
Broad shoulders, muscular chest tapering to narrow hips, and everything else on magnificent display, rising toward me as if to greet me.
Instead of covering himself, Cristian raises an eyebrow. "See something you like?"
My mouth goes dry. "Maybe," I whisper, reaching out to touch the warm skin of his abdomen, feeling the muscles contract beneath my fingertips.
I want to move lower, but Cristian catches my wrist before I can make contact.
"We need to get back to reality," he says, voice rough. "Call your brother. Go home."
I look up at him, drinking in every detail of his face, especially the conflict in his eyes.
He wants me, but that’s in contrast to his duty.
"I just want to touch you, one more time."
Before he can stop me, I reach out with my free hand and wrap my fingers around his already hardening length.
His sharp intake of breath sends a thrill through me.
"Valentina…" My name on his lips is hoarse.
"Show me," I say, giving him a tentative stroke. "Show me how you like to be touched."
For a moment, he wavers.
Then something breaks in him.
He releases my wrist and places his hand over mine, adjusting my grip.