Salvatore
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ifind her on the lawn.
Sitting in the grass in her nightgown and robe, arms wrapped around her knees, staring at nothing.
The same nightgown I pulled the strap down on less than two hours ago.
She doesn’t look up when I approach. Doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
I should leave her alone. Give her space to process what she saw. The smart move is to let her come to terms with it on her own.
But I’ve never been good at walking away from her.
I sit down on the grass beside her. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that she knows I’m here.
The silence stretches before she finally speaks. “When you came to my room,” her voice small but steady, “you could have forced me. You’re stronger. You had me alone. You could have done whatever you wanted.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t. You walked away when I said no.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I study her for a moment before answering.
“Is that what you would have wanted? For me to take you?”
“No… please.” Her voice trembles now. “I just want to know why you didn’t.”
I draw in a slow breath and hold her gaze.
“Because I care about you, Valentina.” The words come out calm, certain.
“I don’t want to break you. I don’t want to hurt you.” I lower my voice. “I want you to be my wife. My partner.”
She’s looking away, but I see her eyes widen slightly.
“I want you to have my children,” I continue, my voice quieter now, but no less sure. “And I want you to raise them to be strong… and smart, like you.”
Silence settles between us, and it’s deeper than desire.
“I don’t just want your body,” I say. “I want all of you.” My gaze holds hers, unwavering.
“I wanted your surrender to mean something.”
A beat passes before I add, softer now, “I told you that.”
She turns to look at me, and there are tears on her face. “But you killed someone. Or had him killed. Same thing. So you’ll respect my no but not his?”
“He had a choice. He chose to betray us. He knew the consequences. You didn’t choose to be here, Valentina. I took that choice from you. The least I can do is give you the choice about your body.”
“You’re drawing lines in the sand. Deciding which violence is acceptable and which isn’t.”
“Yes. Everyone draws lines,” I say calmly. “Mine are simply in different places than most people’s.”
“And where exactly is the line when it comes to me?”
I reach out slowly, giving her time to pull away. When she doesn’t, I brush my fingers lightly along her arm.
“There isn’t one.” Her brows knit slightly.
“There are no lines you could ever cross that would make me turn away from you, Valentina.”
Her breath catches.
“I will never force you to give yourself to me,” I continue, my voice low but steady. “I will never raise a hand to you. And I will never allow anyone else to hurt you.”
The words settle between us, heavy with promise.
“But I will kill to protect you,” I say quietly. “I will destroy anyone who threatens you. And I will do whatever it takes to make you mine.”
“What if… what if I don’t want to be yours? What if I decide to be with someone else?”
I let out a low laugh. “Then I’d find him.” My voice drops, calm and certain. “And I’d make sure he died slowly. Painfully.” My gaze is locked on hers.
“Then I’d bring you back to my bed.”
A beat.
“Because that’s where you belong, Valentina. Nowhere else.” My fingers pause against her skin. “Those are my lines.”
“And what I want doesn’t matter?”
I let out a slow breath.
“What you want matters more than you realize.”
I glance around at the dark, empty grounds before looking back at her.
“That’s why I’m sitting on wet grass at three in the morning instead of sleeping in my bed. That’s why I walked away tonight when every instinct in me told me to stay.”
My gaze holds hers.
“Because what you want, what you choose, matters to me.”
More tears. “I don’t know if I can do this. Live in your world. Be with a man who can touch me like that and then do… this.”
“I know.” I stand, offering her my hand. “But you’re not going to run, are you?”
She stares at my hand for a long moment. The hand that touched her. The hand that has blood on it.
Then she takes it.
I pull her to her feet, and she doesn’t let go right away. Just stands there, her small hand in mine, looking up at me with those beautiful green eyes that have now seen too much.
“Why did you really come to my room tonight?” she asks quietly.
I could lie. Tell her I was testing her. Playing games.
But I promised her honesty.
“Because after watching you on surveillance all day, I couldn’t stay away. Because you’re under my skin and I don’t know what to do about it except try to possess you completely. Because I’m losing control and you’re the reason why.”
She pulls her hand free. “I should go inside.”
“Yes,” I murmur. “You should.”
Neither of us moves.
Then I step closer. Very close. Her breath hitches as my body nearly brushes hers, the space between us shrinking to nothing.
I reach down, fingers finding the hem of her nightgown. I press the fabric between her thighs, feeling the heat of her through the thin silk. When I pull my hand back, the material clings slightly, damp with evidence of what she won't admit.
I rub the wetness between my fingers deliberately, letting her see exactly what her body is telling me.
"Look at that," I murmur, my voice low. "Your mouth says no, but this..." I press my thumb against the damp spot on her gown. "This tells me something else entirely."
Her face flushes, but she doesn't look away. Doesn't deny it.
I step closer still, eliminating the last inch between us. The hard length of me presses against her stomach, impossible to ignore, impossible to misinterpret. She inhales sharply, and I feel the rise and fall of her chest against mine, her breathing already uneven.
Her hands come up, whether to push me away or pull me closer, I'm not sure she knows herself.
Her eyes flick up to mine. Her lips part slightly, and I notice the way her pulse flutters at the base of her throat. The faint flush spreading across her cheeks tells me everything she isn’t saying.
“Do you want me to walk you back to your room?” I ask, my voice lower now.
She swallows.
“No,” she says softly. Then a spark of defiance slips back into her tone. “What’s the point if the monster is already walking beside me?”
Before I can answer, she turns and walks away.
But not before I notice the slight hitch in her step.
I watch her cross the lawn, the night air cool against my skin, my body still aching with the memory of her standing so close.
“Valentina?” I call.
She doesn’t look back.
She disappears into the main house and closes the door behind her.
And I’m left standing in the dark, wanting her far more than before.
Fuck.
Valentina, what are you doing to me, woman?