Chapter Nine
LIVIA
“Is that so?” He replies, his tone curious, intrigued.
I manage to escape the question by turning sharply toward the scattered papers on the conference table and pretending to organize them with urgent focus.
My heart pounds so hard I worry he might hear it.
Four years old this spring. The words hang between us like smoke.
I feel Valentino’s gaze on the side of my face, steady and unyielding, the kind of look that peels back layers until nothing remains hidden.
I keep my hands busy, stacking documents that don’t need stacking, and force my voice into something light and professional. “He keeps me on my toes. You saw that firsthand today.”
Valentino does not reply right away. The silence feels heavy with everything unsaid. I risk a glance at him and find those dark eyes narrowed slightly, calculating.
He knows something feels off.
The way Nico stared at him, the easy way they spoke, the way my body locked up when Nico asked about the tattoo. He notices everything. That’s what terrifies me most.
Before I can form another thought, he steps closer to the table. Too close.
I become aware of everything at once. The expensive clean scent of his cologne. His intense gray eyes. The warmth radiating from him as he braces one hand against the edge of the conference table beside me.
I stop breathing properly.
His voice lowers. “You got nervous when you mentioned your son.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
I straighten another useless stack of papers and force out a small laugh. “You’re reading far too much into a normal conversation.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
His eyes hold mine. Patient. Completely unconvinced.
I should step back.
Instead, I stay exactly where I am while he moves another fraction closer, close enough now that I have to tilt my head slightly to keep looking at him.
The room suddenly feels too warm. My breathing turns uneven before I can stop it.
His gaze drops straight to my mouth and that singular action is enough to cause every nerve ending in my body to spark awake at once.
I forget the papers. Forget the office. Forget every intelligent thought I have ever had.
Valentino’s expression changes almost imperceptibly, something darker slipping beneath the controlled surface he wears so well.
His eyes flick to my neck and back to my eyes. “Now what do we do about this?”
I know what he means by this. This attraction that gets worse every time he's close.
I open my mouth, but absolutely nothing coherent emerges.
“Mm…I, that’s probably…”
Brilliant.
Heat floods my face so fast it burns. I take one horrified step backward, nearly catching the edge of the chair with my heel.
“I should go.” The words come out squeaky.
Valentino watches me carefully, still leaning against the table, still entirely too calm for a man who just dismantled my nervous system with one sentence.
“Livia.”
I cannot survive him saying my name in that tone again.
“I have to um,” I blurt, clutching the folder against my chest like body armor. “And there are emails and…things.”
His eyes flick briefly to my mouth one last time.
“Right,” he murmurs.
I turn before he can say anything else.
Then I walk out of the conference room at a speed just barely short of fleeing while my heart pounds hard enough to shake my entire body.
Every step echoes with the fear that he will connect the dots. The photograph. The Venetian night we shared five years ago. The child who looks like a miniature version of him.
My palms grow damp. I wipe them discreetly on my trousers and sit down, opening files I cannot truly see. The numbers and words blur.
All I can think about is how close he stood in that doorway, how the heat of his body had pulled at something deep inside me. How dangerously right it felt to have him near Nico, even for those few minutes.
I push the thoughts away and focus on work. The profiles need polishing before the preliminary dinner with the Aurelius Consortium tonight.
Margaret Aurelius herself will be there, along with key board members. This is not the full retreat yet, but it’s the dress rehearsal. My chance to prove I belong here.
Hours later, I stand in front of the mirror in the small office restroom, smoothing down the deep emerald dress Piper convinced me to wear.
It clings to my curves in a way that feels both powerful and exposed. The neckline dips just enough to remind me I am more than a nervous single mother drowning in secrets.
I twist my hair into a soft updo and add simple gold earrings. My reflection stares back with tired but determined eyes.
Piper texts that she is running late with her own preparations for the overlapping gala. She will pick up Nico from the sitter I managed to secure last minute, but traffic is impossible.
I have no choice but to bring him to the dinner venue briefly. Just until she arrives. My stomach twists at the idea, but I’ve run out of options.
The restaurant sits on the top floor of a sleek Manhattan tower, all glass and low lighting with views that stretch across the city.
Valentino meets me in the private dining room. He wears a tailored black suit that molds to his broad shoulders and narrow waist.
The sight of him sends a slow, unwanted warmth through my body.
I remember the way we stood inches apart earlier, the scent of his cologne wrapping around me, the way my heart skipped a beat when his gaze dropped to my mouth.
I want to hate how easily he affects me, but my body refuses to cooperate.
He notices Nico immediately. My son stands beside me in his best button-down shirt and little slacks, clutching a small backpack.
Valentino does not frown or question. He simply nods once, as if a child at a high-stakes business dinner is perfectly normal.
“Piper is delayed,” I explain quietly, voice low so the early arrivals do not hear. “She will be here soon.”
Valentino crouches to Nico’s level without hesitation. No baby talk, no awkwardness. “Hungry?”
Nico nods, eyes wide at the elegant room. “Yes. Do they have pasta?”
“They do.” Valentino straightens and signals a server with effortless authority. Within minutes, a children’s portion appears. He handles the situation so smoothly it steals my breath.
When Nico struggles with the large utensils, Valentino reaches over without thinking and cuts the pasta into neat bites.
His large hands move with precision, the tattoo on his wrist catching the light. I watch, mesmerized, as he hands the fork back to my son.
Nico beams up at him. “Thank you.”
Valentino gives a small nod of approval. “Good manners matter in every room.”
My chest feels tight. The image of them together feels too natural, too right. Heat rises in my cheeks as I remember the charged moment in the conference room doorway. The way Valentino’s body had nearly pressed against mine, the electricity crackling between us.
If Nico had not interrupted, I’m not sure I could have stopped myself from closing that final inch.
The other guests arrive. Margaret Aurelius enters like royalty, silver hair swept back, diamonds glinting at her throat.
She commands the room without effort. Dominic Calder sits to her right, sharp in a charcoal suit, his cheekbones as striking as Piper described. His dark assessing gaze lingers on me a beat too long.
We take our seats. Nico sits between Valentino and me, kicking his legs quietly under the table. Valentino surprises me again by unlocking his phone and handing it to Nico with a calm explanation. “This has a racing game. Keep the volume low.”
Nico’s eyes light up with pure joy. He accepts the expensive device like it’s a treasure and immediately becomes absorbed.
Valentino’s fingers brush mine as he pulls his hand back. The contact sends a spark straight through me. I shift in my seat, suddenly aware of the dress clinging to my thighs.
His nearness makes the air feel thicker, warmer. I catch the faint trace of wood and spice from his cologne, the same scent that once drove me wild in Venice. My nipples tighten against the silk of my bra.
I cross my legs, trying to ignore the slow throb building in my center.
The conversation turns to the proposal. Valentino begins with his usual commanding presence, outlining security protocols and risk assessments.
His voice is deep, authoritative. It wraps around me like a caress. I watch the strong line of his jaw, the way his hands gesture with controlled power. Desire coils tighter inside me.
I want those hands on my skin again. I want to feel the weight of him pressing me down, taking control the way he did that night years ago.
When a board member questions the human cost of their stringent measures, I lean forward and speak. My words don't tumble out as they do when I'm nervous this time. Small mercies.
I humanize the pitch, sharing carefully chosen stories about families who lost peace of mind to invisible threats. I tie it back to real fears, real people.
Then I challenge Valentino gently but firmly on one point about accessibility for smaller clients. “Mr. Ferretti’s approach is brilliant, but we must ensure protection does not feel like a luxury only the elite can afford. True security builds trust when it reaches everyone who needs it.”
The room quiets. Valentino meets my eyes across the table. Heat flares there, unmistakable. He nods slowly, a faint smile touching his lips. “Ms. De Luca makes an excellent point. We adjust the tiered packages accordingly.”
Impressed murmurs ripple around the table. Margaret Aurelius watches me with new interest. Valentino’s gaze lingers on me, dark and hungry.
Under the table, his knee brushes mine. The contact is deliberate. Electricity shoots up my thigh. I press back slightly, unable to help myself. The tension builds with every shared glance. My body remembers him, craves him.
I imagine him pushing me against the glass wall later, hands sliding under my dress, fingers finding me already wet and aching for him. The fantasy makes my breath catch.
Nico grows restless. Valentino notices before I do. He reaches over and adjusts the phone game, murmuring instructions in that same serious tone. Nico leans against his arm trustingly.
The sight sends a wave of conflicting emotions through me: fear, longing, and a deep, painful want.
Margaret leans in during a lull, her sharp eyes moving between us. “What a lovely family picture you make. Livia, dear, you must be Valentino’s fiancée. And this must be your son. The resemblance is striking.”
My heart stops. Valentino opens his mouth to correct her.
I act on pure instinct. Under the table, I slide my hand onto his thigh, squeezing firmly. The muscle there is hard and warm beneath my palm. He tenses, but stays silent.
My fingers linger, tracing a small circle that feels far too intimate. Heat pours off him. I feel his pulse quicken under my touch.
The silent plea works and Valentino closes his mouth.
Margaret smiles warmly. “Now I understand your proposal, Mr. Ferretti. A man with a family understands what families fear losing.”
The lie settles over the table like a fine mist.
I keep my hand on his thigh a second longer than necessary, unable to resist, feeling the strength of him.
Desire surges through me so strongly I have to bite the inside of my cheek. His hand covers mine briefly under the table, large and possessive.
The touch promises things I shouldn’t want but desperately do.
Conversation flows again. I contribute more ideas, sharper now, riding the adrenaline. Valentino supports every point, his voice carrying new weight.
The clients respond positively, nodding along. Dominic Calder watches us critically the entire time, his expression unreadable.
Halfway through the main course, Piper arrives in a rush of energy, carrying a sample centerpiece for her own event. She spots us and waves discreetly before stepping back into the lobby to wait. I excuse myself briefly to hand Nico over.
In the lobby, Dominic Calder stands near the entrance, reviewing something on his tablet. Piper approaches to collect Nico from me. Dominic looks up and his gaze lands on the floral arrangement she carries.
“Those look like a florist had a nervous breakdown,” he says coolly, voice dripping with disdain.
Piper straightens, eyes flashing. “And your personality could use emergency resuscitation. Perhaps a personality transplant while we are at it.”
They stare at each other for a long, charged beat, the air crackling with pure irritation and something sharper underneath. Piper’s cheeks flush. Dominic’s jaw tightens. Then both turn and walk away in opposite directions, furious.
I return to the table with my heart racing. Nico is safe with Piper now. The dinner continues. Valentino’s hand finds my knee under the table once, a brief, searing touch that leaves me breathless.
We don’t speak of the assumption Margaret made. The lie hangs there, binding us in ways I cannot yet untangle.
As dessert plates clear, Margaret Aurelius raises her glass.
Her voice carries across the table with finality.
“Valentino, Livia, and young Nico, I formally invite you to join us at the Hudson Valley estate for the full retreat. As a family unit, of course. We look forward to deepening this partnership.”
She smiles expectantly, sealing the invitation.
I sit frozen beside Valentino, the weight of the lie and the heat of his presence pressing down on me.
I'm in trouble.