Chapter Thirteen
LIVIA
My hands shake so badly I can barely close the sliding door behind me. The terrace encounter with Valentino lingers on my skin like a brand.
My heart still races, and my legs feel unsteady as I move through the dimly lit living area of the cottage.
I glance toward the main bedroom where Valentino disappeared moments after I pushed him away, then I turn toward the smaller room where Nico sleeps.
The need to be near my son overrides everything else right now. I need his warmth, his innocence, something real to anchor me before I fall apart completely.
I slip into Nico’s room and ease the door almost shut. Moonlight filters through the curtains, casting soft patterns across the bed. Nico lies curled on his side, his small chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm.
His favorite red toy car rests beside his pillow. I climb onto the bed carefully, trying not to wake him, and pull the covers over both of us. My body still trembles from Valentino’s touch, from the low rumble of his voice calling me tesoro, from the deliberate trail of his finger down my neckline.
I draw Nico closer, wrapping my arms around his warm little body and burying my face in his soft curls.
He stirs slightly, his voice sleepy and confused. “Mama?”
“Yes, sweetie?” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. My voice comes out shaky, but I hope he is too drowsy to notice.
He burrows deeper into my chest, his small hand fisting my shirt. Within seconds his breathing evens out again. He falls back into deep sleep, trusting and content.
I match my breathing to his slow, even breaths, letting the familiar scent of his shampoo and the solid weight of him in my arms calm the storm inside me.
Gradually, my heart rate slows. The trembling eases. Exhaustion from the long day, the drive, the dinner, and that devastating confrontation on the terrace finally pulls me under.
I fall asleep holding my son, grateful for this small pocket of safety in the middle of the lie I have built around us.
Morning arrives with sunlight streaming through the windows and the distant sound of birds over the lake.
I wake first, still curled around Nico. For a few precious minutes I simply watch him sleep, tracing the familiar lines of his face.
The resemblance to Valentino grows more obvious every day. The same strong brows, the same thoughtful expression even in rest.
I push the thought away and slip out of bed to prepare for the day.
The retreat exercises begin after breakfast in the main lodge. Margaret Aurelius explains the structure with practiced enthusiasm.
Each family unit will participate in simulated protection scenarios designed to test rapid response, coordination, and decision-making under pressure.
Valentino and I, as the engaged couple with child, must work together seamlessly. I feel his presence beside me like a physical force as we listen to the briefing.
He stands close enough that his arm brushes mine when he shifts his weight. The contact sends a spark straight through me, reminding me of last night on the terrace.
The first scenario involves an evacuation drill. We practice moving Nico between safe zones while role-playing potential threats.
Valentino takes the lead with calm authority, directing me with precise instructions. His hand settles at the small of my back as we navigate the marked path through the gardens.
The touch is professional for the observers, but it burns through the thin fabric of my blouse. I feel every point of contact. My skin feels like it's on fire, and warmth pools low in my belly.
I remember his finger tracing my neckline, the way my nipples had tightened instantly. I clench my jaw and focus on the exercise, but my body refuses to forget.
We repeat variations of the drills throughout the morning. Each time Valentino stands close, his body heat wraps around me, and by lunch I'm too wired to even sit still.
My thighs press together under the table as I try to ignore the persistent ache between them.
We don't talk about what happened last night. Though I suspect that's mostly from me avoiding him except I absolutely have to be around.
The afternoon session takes us down to the private marina at the edge of the property.
A line of sleek black boats rocks gently against the dock while instructors brief us on emergency water extraction procedures. The lake glitters under the early afternoon sun, deceptively calm and beautiful.
I stand beside Nico near the back of the group, grateful for the breeze cooling my overheated skin. Valentino is speaking with one of the security coordinators a few feet away, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, but I still feel unnervingly aware of him.
Always aware of him.
Nico tugs on my hand. “Mama, can I sit in the boat?”
“One of the boats,” I correct automatically.
His little face scrunches in concentration. “One of the boats.”
I smile despite myself. “We’ll see after the briefing.”
Valentino glances over at the sound of Nico’s voice.
Just one look.
That’s all it takes for me to start panicking.
Because the resemblance is there even now. In the sunlight it’s impossible not to see it. The dark hair. The shape of the eyes. The stubborn little line between Nico’s brows whenever he concentrates.
For one horrifying second, I wonder if Valentino sees it too.
But his expression never changes.
The instructor claps his hands sharply to regain everyone’s attention.
“Scenario three,” he announces. “Simulated hostile interception during lake transfer. Family units will board in assigned groups and respond according to instructions from your security lead.”
Security lead.
Of course that means Valentino.
The group breaks apart toward the docks. Before I can maneuver myself to the opposite side of the crowd, Valentino appears beside me. “This way,” he says calmly.
I ignore my slight tremble as his hand settles lightly against my back again and follow him onto the dock.
Nico chatters happily as Valentino helps him into the boat first. He crouches slightly to adjust Nico’s life vest, his large hands gentle as he checks the straps.
“Too tight?” he asks.
Nico shakes his head solemnly.
“You sure?”
Another nod.
Valentino taps the front buckle lightly. “Good man.”
Good man.
My throat tightens unexpectedly.
I look away quickly and step into the boat after Nico, but the movement is awkward. The dock shifts beneath my feet.
Before I can catch myself, my balance tilts sharply sideways.
Valentino grabs me instantly.
One arm wraps around my waist with crushing firmness, hauling me against his chest before I can fall.
The world stops.
Every breath leaves my lungs in one shaky rush.
His hand spans almost my entire waist. Heat radiates through the thin fabric of my shirt. I can feel the hard line of his body against mine, solid and steady and terrifyingly familiar.
For a second neither of us moves.
Then his gaze drops to my mouth.
My heart starts to slam violently against my chest. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs softly.
Oh my God. Not here.
I wrench myself backward too fast. “I’m fine.”
Valentino’s jaw tightens slightly behind the dark lenses, but he releases me immediately. “Of course you are.”
I sit beside Nico and stare rigidly out at the lake while the rest of the participants board nearby boats.
My skin feels feverish.
I can still feel Valentino’s hand on my waist like a burn mark.
I’m desperate for space.
Desperate to breathe without constantly feeling Valentino’s eyes on me.
We end up reviewing competing firms’ proposals in a large conference room at the lodge. Documents and tablets cover the long tables.
I sit across from Valentino. The sunglasses are gone now.
And God. That was a mistake. Now I need to devote extra energy to focusing on pages in front of me.
I drag in a deep breath and force my professional cap on.
Something in the De Luca subsidiary proposal catches my eye. I cross-reference the jurisdictional filings with the claimed client history and spot the irregularity immediately. The dates do not align.
A key compliance document references a region where the subsidiary wasn’t yet registered at the time of the supposed contract.
I gather the relevant pages and approach Valentino during a short break. He stands near the windows reviewing his own notes.
“I found something. In Dante’s subsidiary proposal. The jurisdictional filing for the European clients does not match their operational timeline. They claim coverage starting in March, but the registration was only filed in June. It’s a clear compliance gap.”
Valentino takes the documents from me, reading quickly.
He looks up at me, gray eyes assessing. “Where did you learn to read filings like this? This is solid work. Most analysts would have missed it.”
I hold his gaze, even though standing this close to him makes my heart race. “From the man who taught me to spot his own tricks.”
He knows I mean Dante. My father’s playbook.
Valentino nods once. “This changes the evaluation. I’ll flag it.”
Back at the cottage during a scheduled break, Nico drags Valentino into building an elaborate racetrack using blocks, cushions, and some safe outdoor toys provided by the estate.
I take the opportunity to slip away, retreating to the bathroom attached to my bedroom. I lock the door.
The large soaking tub calls to me.
I fill it with hot water and a generous amount of the lavender bath salts provided by the estate.
Steam rises as I undress, my body still wound tight from the day’s constant nearness to Valentino. I ache everywhere.
My clit feels engorged and sensitive, throbbing with unmet need sparked on the terrace last night and intensified through every public performance today.
The heat envelops me as I sink into the water, but it does nothing to ease the pressure between my thighs. I lean back against the tub and close my eyes.
My hand slides down my stomach, over my wet skin, until my fingers find my swollen clit. The first gentle rub pulls a soft gasp from my lips.
I imagine what would have happened if I had dragged Valentino down to me on the terrace instead of pushing him away. If I had kissed him hard, tongues tangling, hands desperate tearing through clothes.
In my head he lifts me against the wall. His strong hands grip my thighs, spreading them wide. He would push my skirt up and tear my panties aside, fingers finding me already dripping.
I circle my clit faster, toes curling against the smooth porcelain. I picture him freeing his thick cock and thrusting into me in one powerful stroke. I’d cry out from the feel of him stretching me full.
And then he’d angle his hips that magical way he did five years again and fuck me so deep and relentless while murmuring filthy praise against my neck.
My other hand moves to my breasts. I pinch and roll my nipples, imagining his mouth on them instead. Sucking hard. Biting just enough to make me whimper.
My hips rock in the water, creating small waves as I rub my clit with increasing pressure. The picture in my head intensifies.
I see myself on my knees for him, taking him deep into my mouth, looking up at those intense gray eyes while he fists my hair and fucks my throat.
Then bent over the terrace railing, his body covering mine as he pounds into me from behind, one hand between my legs rubbing my clit until I come screaming his name.
Pleasure builds fast and sharp. I bite my lower lip hard to keep from crying out. My fingers move quicker, slipping over my slick folds and back to the aching bundle of nerves. My nipples peak tight under my touch.
The orgasm crashes over me suddenly.
My back arches, thighs trembling as waves of release pulse through me. I pant softly, riding it out, my body shuddering in the cooling water.
For a few moments I float in the afterglow, breathing heavy. But the satisfaction fades too quickly. The ache returns, deeper now. Emptier.
My body craves more than my own fingers can give. It craves him. His weight. His strength. His cock filling me completely. I need Valentino.
The realization terrifies me even as fresh heat blooms low in my belly.