Valentina
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Four weeks in the Vitale compound, and I've learned three things:
First, Rosa sees everything but says nothing.
Second, the library is the only place the cameras don't reach.
And third, Salvatore Vitale is far more complicated than the monster I thought he was.
I haven't seen Salvatore in almost a week. Rosa says he's recovering, but I think he's avoiding me. I should be glad I have this time to myself.
I’m glad.
Mostly.
I try not to think about the way my hand felt on his thigh. The way his trembling stopped under my touch. The way he looked at me afterward like I'd done something no one else had ever dared to do.
I hadn't meant to comfort him, but caring comes naturally for me. A trait I could have done without that night.
But somewhere between the blood and the fear and the raw vulnerability on his face, something shifted. Something I'm not ready to examine.
So I don't. I throw myself into routine instead.
It’s been four weeks now since I signed my life away. Four weeks of learning the rhythms of this gilded cage, of watching guards rotate shifts, every entrance and exit I can find, memorizing which hallways lead where.
If I can’t beat him with strength, I will beat him with patience.
Mornings are predictable now. Rosa arrives at eight with breakfast, always too much food, always beautifully arranged, always delivered with that same serene composure that makes me want to scream.
She updates me on the day's schedule, as if I have anywhere to be, asks if I need anything, as if I could ask for my freedom, and leaves me to eat alone in my beautiful prison.
“Rosa,” I say softly, before she heads toward the door. “How long have you worked for the Vitales?”
She pauses with the coffee pot in her hand. “Long enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I study her face. The lines around her mouth. The steady eyes. The way she moves like she owns her place in this house.
“Were you here before Salvatore?”
She thinks about whether or not to answer but then, to my surprise, she does.
“Yes.”
“Did you… know my grandfather?”
Her mouth tightens slightly.
“Yes.”
I have so many questions.
“Is that all?”
Well… I guess that’s all I’m going to get, so no need to push.
“Yes ma’am, thank you.”
“Actually, I’d like to go for a walk today. In the gardens, maybe write a little.”
“You write?” She asks and I’m shocked there’s interest in her voice.
“Ummm, I write-ish,” it’s just something to keep my mind busy.
She exhales. “I’ll notify someone.”
“No.” The word snaps out of me. The last thing I want is another damn shadow.
“I don’t need a guard okay, I want air. I want sunlight. I want to feel like I still exist outside of his schedules.”
Her expression seems unsure like she’s thinking about it but then, she doesn’t argue. She simply nods once.
“As you wish,” she says, and starts to leave.
“Wait so that’s it? His men aren’t going to tackle me or shoot me are they?”
She laughs. “Salvatore would kill that man on sight,” she says somewhat jokingly. “You’ll be fine, you’re a smart girl. I’ll be back to check on you later. Okay?”
“Okay, thank you.”
She nods and leaves. I guess Rosa is warming up to me because that’s the most she’s said since I’ve been here.
Today should be a decent day.
I’ve decided to stay in touch with Lindsay regularly. I say it’s so she doesn’t freak out, but every time I hear her voice on the other line, it’s comforting.
Lindsay: Hey, I’m in the courtroom and expect it to take a while but wanted to check in. You alive?
Me: Yes. I’m alive and well, stop worrying.
Lindsay: Okay, yeah I mean, randomly disappearing from the face of the earth isn’t suspicious at all.
Me: I'm handling something.
Lindsay: Yes your mother told me, “Family stuff". Gotta go, love you, talk to you later.
Me: Love you, too.
I put my phone down and finish my breakfast before heading to the library.
This is the third day in a row I’ve come here.
I plan to explore the gardens soon, but the library has become my favorite way to escape.
It’s quiet, almost eerily so, but it’s the only place in this massive estate I feel the most comfortable.
The best part is that I can actually relax in here.
Even Rosa hasn’t bothered me once while I was in here the last couple of days.
Books don’t ask questions.
They don’t watch you.
They don’t expect anything.
I take my coffee with me, still warm in my hands when I step inside, and wow. The Vitale library is… a lot. Despite this being my third visit, I still can’t get over how incredible it is.
Certain shelves hold rare editions I can barely wrap my head around.
Three stories of floor-to-ceiling shelves rise around me, connected by a wrought-iron spiral staircase that looks like it belongs in a movie instead of someone’s house.
First editions sit locked behind glass. There are manuscripts so old I’m afraid to breathe too hard near them.
And then there’s an actual Gutenberg Bible, displayed like it’s no big deal.
I knew these people were rich. I just didn’t realize they were own-a-piece-of-human-history rich.
I can’t help wondering who cared enough to collect all of this. Who chose these books, preserved them, protected them. It’s a librarian’s dream come true, but I can’t even tell Lindsay about it.
Today, something catches my eye on the second floor. Tucked into an alcove that feels deliberately forgotten, there's a row of what look like books but aren't quite right. They're shelved like regular volumes, but each one has a huge ornate "V" embossed across the spine.
I hesitate, taking a sip of my coffee, but my eyes never leave them. They're in the main library, not locked away. That has to mean they're fair game. Right?
I pull one down, and my breath catches.
The leather is butter-soft, aged to perfection. The stitching is impeccable. Tiny, even, clearly done by hand. The "V" isn't just stamped; it's tooled into the leather with gold leaf accents. Wow.
I sink into the worn velvet chair by the window, still clutching my coffee, and crack open the cover.
The very first page stops me cold.
A family portrait. What has to be Salvatore's parents. His mother is stunning, his father dark-haired and elegant; he's exactly what you'd expect a mafia boss to look like, and five boys are arranged around them. My eyes scan the faces until I find him.
A young Salvatore, maybe ten or eleven, standing behind one of his brothers. His hand is raised behind his brother's head, making bunny ears.
Bunny ears.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. "So I guess you used to be normal."
I study the other faces. Everyone is attempting to smile for the camera except one kid whose face is as serious as stone. He stands with his arms crossed like he means business—all while wearing a Mickey Mouse hat.
"That must be Elio," I murmur to myself, grinning.
I turn the pages slowly, letting myself get lost in this window into a world I never expected to see.
Salvatore's mother, I'm certain it's her now, smiles beautifully in every photo.
There's so much light in her face, so much warmth.
She looks like the kind of woman who laughs easily and could light up an entire room.
His father is the opposite. No smiles, no gimmicks, just a straight face that could freeze water. The quintessential mafia patriarch.
Except.
I find one photo of the two of them together. She's leaning into him, clearly having just said something, and he's... smiling. It looks almost involuntary, like she pulled it out of him against his will, but it's genuine nonetheless. Real.
I take a sip of coffee to wash it away.
The next page makes me actually coo out loud. "Awww, they had a dog!"
It's a chaotic shot. All five boys clustered around a massive German Shepherd while their mother is clearly struggling to hold onto the leash.
The dog's tongue is out, one of the boys (the bunny-ears victim from before) has fallen over, and even the serious Mickey Mouse kid is reaching down to pet the dog's head.
Salvatore is laughing, and I see so much joy in his face. Not the cold man I have to marry.
I trace my finger over the photo.
This was a family. A real one. Before whatever happened to make Salvatore into the man who kidnapped me in a parking garage.
I'm reaching for another album when I hear footsteps on the stairs.
I snap the album closed, my heart hammering, but I don't try to hide what I was doing. What's the point? They probably already know.
I wait to see if anyone walks in, but thankfully, no one does.
My phone buzzes and Lindsay's name flashes on the screen.
I grab a book to take back to the room with me before heading for my walk in the gardens.
The moment I step onto the path, the world softens.
Gravel crunches gently beneath my shoes, and the low hush of wind moves through hedges clipped into careful, elegant lines.
Roses spill over wrought-iron trellises, their petals heavy with color and scent, and somewhere nearby, water trickles over stone, slow and unhurried.
It’s so beautiful and peaceful here that for a few stolen minutes, with this book under my arm and the sun warm on my skin, I almost forget where I am.
My phone buzzes again, snapping me back to reality, and I head towards my room.
Time to reach out to Lindsay before she starts freaking out again.
Lindsay: I've been patient. I've been understanding. But you ARE NOT missing our date night. I won't have it.
I wince.
Lindsay: We promised each other. No matter what. Every month on the 15th, no matter what day it falls on, we're hanging out. You had better be there.
Me: Lin...
Lindsay: Don't "Lin" me. If you're not there, we're going to have a problem.
Me: Okay.
Lindsay: I'm serious, Val. Whatever "family stuff" this is, it can wait a few hours. I need to see your face. I need to know you're actually fine and not saying or typing "I'm fine" from a ditch somewhere.
Me: I said okay.