Chapter Eight
VALENTINO
Children do not belong on the thirty-second floor of Ferretti Global Risk.
The floor is designed for silence.
Glass walls. Controlled voices. Expensive restraint.
People walk quickly here because hesitation costs money. Conversations happen in fragments behind conference room doors. Analysts monitor threat patterns across six countries while executives pretend caffeine is a personality trait.
Nothing soft survives long in this environment.
Which is why the sound of a child laughing stops me cold halfway down the corridor outside Operations.
I look up from the tablet in my hand.
Again, a child laughs, and every instinct I possess sharpens instantly.
Security breach.
Client family member.
Unauthorized guest.
I round the corner expecting irritation and paperwork.
Instead, I find Livia De Luca kneeling beside a little boy near the empty conference room at the end of the hall.
For one strange second my brain simply refuses to process what I’m seeing.
The boy cannot be older than four. Dark curls. Small sneakers lighting up against the polished floor every time he shifts his feet. He sits cross-legged beside an overturned leather portfolio while toy cars form an organized line beside him.
Livia is trying to answer a phone call while simultaneously keeping him occupied.
Stress radiates off her in waves.
“Nico, sweetheart, not there,” she says distractedly, reaching for him without looking away from her laptop screen. “That’s not a toy.”
The boy has somehow acquired one of our temporary visitor badges. He studies the magnetic strip with intense concentration.
I should probably say something immediately. Instead, I stand there watching them.
Livia’s hair is twisted into a loose knot that is already falling apart. There is a faint crease between her eyebrows that suggests she has been solving problems since dawn.
She wears a cream blouse tucked into dark trousers, professional enough for the office, but one sleeve has a tiny smear of what looks suspiciously like strawberry jam near the cuff.
The boy notices me first.
His head lifts.
Those eyes hit mine and something inside me goes unnaturally still. It's a soft shade of gray and he's watching me closely. That familiarity from the say I saw that photograph hits me again.
Familiar in a way that lands low in my spine.
It makes no sense.
Livia follows his gaze and freezes.
“Oh my God," she gasps, voice laced with mortification.
She rises too quickly and nearly drops her phone in the process. “Mr. Ferretti. I can explain.”
I slide the tablet beneath my arm and study the scene carefully.
“You brought a child into a restricted security office.”
Her jaw tightens slightly. Defensive already.
“My sitter canceled an hour ago. My best friend is at work. Preschool called because Nico had a fever yesterday and they wouldn’t let him come back without twenty-four hours symptom free.
I tried to work remotely but Legal needed the revised profiles in person before the board review and I had no other option. ”
The explanation comes fast, prepared, as if she has already had to defend herself twelve times this morning.
The boy stands up beside her and looks directly at me.
“You’re tall.”
I look down at him. “Yes.”
He considers that carefully. Then he nods once like we have reached an agreement.
Livia rubs a hand over her forehead. “I know this is inappropriate. I only needed a few hours. I booked the small conference room so he wouldn’t disturb anyone.”
“He escaped,” the boy informs me solemnly. Speaking about himself in third person, that's impressive.
Livia closes her eyes briefly, following along. “Yes. Apparently, he escaped.”
He looks at her now. “I was exploring, mama.”
“Unauthorized exploration.”
He seems to think about that wording. “Like spies?”
I almost smile.
Almost.
“Sometimes.”
His attention immediately shifts to the security badge clipped to my jacket pocket.
“What does that do?”
Livia exhales quietly like she already knows this conversation is spiraling away from her.
“It accesses secured areas,” I answer.
His eyes widen. “Can I see?”
“No.”
He accepts the refusal surprisingly well.
“Okay.”
Livia watches me cautiously, like she expects irritation any second now.
Instead, I crouch slightly and hold the badge where he can examine it without touching.
“It contains encrypted credentials,” I tell him. “The system reads the chip inside and determines which floors I can enter.”
He stares at the badge with complete fascination.
“How does it know it’s you?”
“Biometric verification.”
Livia blinks slowly.
The boy asks, “What’s a baomechic?”
“Information your body gives the system. Fingerprints. Eye scans. Voice patterns.”
His mouth drops open a little. “That’s so cool.”
“It is.”
I straighten again.
Livia is staring at me now.
For a second I remember moonlight on water. A narrow Venetian balcony. A woman panting against my mouth.
The image vanishes before I can fully catch it.
Nico notices the movement beneath my jacket next.
“What’s that?”
“The shoulder holster?” I ask.
Livia goes visibly pale. “Nico.”
He looks up at me with complete seriousness. “Do you have a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.”
Livia pinches the bridge of her nose. “Please stop encouraging him.”
“I’m answering his questions.”
“You are answering them like he’s a junior operative.”
“He asked intelligent questions.”
Nico beams at that.
Something pulls unexpectedly in the center of my chest.
I have no experience with children. Maybe except for Tom. My world has never had room for softness or routine or tiny sneakers abandoned in hallways.
Yet standing here watching this small boy look at me like I personally invented espionage feels dangerously easy.
Too easy.
I straighten fully and glance toward the conference room.
“You’re working in there?”
Livia nods quickly. “Just until noon. Then Piper’s picking him up.”
“Piper?”
“My best friend. She'll be back soon.”
The name registers vaguely.
Event planner. Loud personality. I saw her briefly in the lobby a few weeks ago while she argued with Security about flower deliveries.
Nico wanders closer before Livia can stop him.
He stops directly beside me, his attention fixing on the silver keycard clipped to my belt this time.
“That one’s different.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It opens more doors.”
He looks impressed by that.
I look down at the top of his dark curls and experience the strangest sensation. Like something beneath conscious thought is trying to force its way upward.
Livia steps closer immediately, almost protectively. Her hand settles lightly against Nico’s shoulder.
The movement snaps my attention to her.
She’s tense, and it's not the ordinary workplace anxiety.
It feels like something deeper. I don't know what it is, but these two personalities deeply intrigue me. Something about them I can't quite place my hands on.
“You okay, Ms. De Luca?” I ask.
Her gaze flicks to mine. “Yes.”
Big lie.
I know what fear looks like.
I built an empire around identifying it.
Nico's gaze catches on the tattoo winding beneath the cuff of my shirt where my sleeve shifted slightly.
“What’s that?”
Livia nearly drops the coffees.
The reaction is immediate enough that I look at her first instead of answering. Her knuckles tighten around the paper cups.
Nico steps closer to me, completely oblivious. “It looks like plants.”
I chuckle now. “It sort of is.”
“What does it say?”
I glance down at the black ink disappearing beneath my watch.
Olive branches curled around a broken key.
A reminder.
A wound.
“It means I lost something once.”
Nico studies my face carefully. “Did you find it?”
My eyes lift automatically to Livia.
She’s completely still in the doorway, her coffee forgotten.
Her breathing is shallow, and as those brown eyes lock onto mine, I feel something shift in the air entirely.
I look back at the child. “Not yet.”
It's silent for a few seconds.
Nico looks between us like he senses something happening beyond his understanding. Then he shrugs and returns to the Ferrari.
The tension does not leave with him.
Livia sets the coffees down on my desk with more care than is probably necessary. “Thank you for not throwing us out.”
“I considered it.”
She peers at me. “I think you're enjoying this more than you should.”
I raise a brow, remembering Riley and Vaughn's statement...how I was with Tom. “You think so?”
"Mhm." Her mouth curves slightly before she catches herself.
God.
"I mean...you didn't seem to hate his company. Thank you for that."
My eyes go down to her lips, then back to her eyes. "I'm your boss, Livia. Not a monster.”
That small almost-smile appears again on her face and it does something unpleasantly physical to me.
I move toward the doorway at the same moment she does.
We stop inches apart. Too fucking close.
I catch a whiff of her scent.
Clean skin beneath coconut and citrus.
Her eyes flick down briefly to my mouth before returning to mine. The movement sends heat straight through me.
I watch in real time as her breathing changes and neither of us moves for a whole ten seconds.
We stand suspended there in the charged space between almost and absolutely not.
I become intensely aware of details. The pulse beating low in her throat. The way her fingers tighten slightly around the coffee cup. The softness of her blouse brushing my suit jacket because we’re standing that close.
One inch forward and my mouth would be on hers. Venice flickers through my head again and this time I don't shake it off.
Because standing here with Livia pressed into the doorway while tension coils tight between us, I suddenly feel disturbingly certain I’ve touched this woman before.
Nico’s voice cuts through the moment like a fire alarm.
“Mama, can I have the blue car now?”
Livia jerks backward instantly and the spell breaks.
Nico pushes one of the toy cars toward me.
“Want to race?”
I look down at the tiny red Ferrari.
Then at him.
Then at Livia, who looks like she has fully accepted her professional death at this point.
I pick up the car. “Rules?”
His face lights up like sunrise.
Twenty minutes later Piper arrives in a storm of perfume, sunglasses, and dramatic energy.
“Well,” she says from the doorway. “Either I entered the wrong building or security billionaire, Valentino Ferretti is currently losing a Hot Wheels tournament.”
Nico gasps happily. “pippy!”
He launches himself at her, and the way he shouts that word stuns me still.
She catches him easily and kisses the top of his head before looking at me over his curls. Her expression sharpens slightly with surprise.
“Hello, sorry about this. Hope he isn't causing you much trouble?”
I shrug a little. “I tolerate him.”
She grins. “Why does that feel like a lie?"
Livia stands quickly. “Thank you for coming.”
Piper waves her off. “My floral designer canceled and Dominic Calder made one intern cry before noon. Honestly this rescue mission improved my day.”
Nico immediately starts telling her about the Ferrari model and the biometric security badges.
She listens with impressive seriousness.
While they gather his things, I watch Livia quietly.
She wipes juice from Nico’s chin without interrupting conversation. Checks his backpack and makes sure he says thank you before leaving.
Nico runs back toward me at the last second.
“I forgot.”
He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a tiny toy car. It's red and slightly scratched.
“My favorite one,” he explains. “You can borrow it.”
Livia goes still instantly.
“So you remember to give it back,” he adds.
I take the toy carefully between two fingers and upon contact an unfamiliar sensation moves through me. Something dangerously close to warmth.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Then Piper herds him toward the elevators while he continues asking questions about security systems.
The office feels strangely quiet once he disappears.
Too quiet.
Livia exhales slowly and starts gathering scattered papers from the conference table.
“I’m sorry about today.”
“You’ve apologized twelve times already.”
“I know bringing him was highly unprofessional.”
"Still, too much.”
She smiles faintly without looking up.
Sunlight catches the side of her throat through the conference room glass.
I should leave. Instead, I remain exactly where I am watching her and thinking.
That expression from earlier keeps replaying in my head.
The way she looked at me with Nico. It wasn't flirtation or some ordinary attraction. It's something heavier.
Complicated.
Like she was seeing two realities at once.
I study her profile carefully.
The shape of her mouth. The nervous habit of twisting the ring on her right hand when stressed. The exhaustion beneath her composure. And beneath all of that, something else keeps pulling at me.
Recognition.
Impossible recognition.
I think about the photograph she snatched away yesterday like her life depended on it.
A strange pressure builds slowly behind my ribs.
I move closer before I fully decide to and Livia senses it immediately, her shoulders tightening slightly.
When she finally looks up, we stand alone in the conference room with afternoon sunlight cutting gold across the floor between us.
“How old is he?” I ask softly.
But I watch the exact second panic flashes across her face before she hides it. Too fast for most people to catch, but not for me.
Her fingers tighten around the stack of papers. “Nico?” she asks carefully.
“Yes.”
She stares wide-eyed for a second.
Then: “He turned four this spring.”