Salvatore
CHAPTER TWELVE
The wound is closed, and the stitches are out. About fucking time.
Elio's in my study when I find him, hunched over reports like the good soldier he is.
He's young, only twenty-four, fresh out of college.
We do our best to keep him away from some of the shit we deal with, but he has to learn eventually.
Little by little, he's being taught the different parts of this world.
My father was the most protective of him. He wanted Elio to become a politician, so it was important to keep his record squeaky clean. But Elio decided he'd go into accounting instead, helping Matteo manage the money when he learned that Matteo was the only billionaire among us. Smart man.
He looks up when I walk in, and I catch the flash of surprise before he schools his expression.
"You should be in bed."
I drop into my chair, let the leather take my weight. "Get the guys together. Dinner tomorrow night with the soon-to-be bride. All of them."
He sets down his tablet. "Tomorrow night? Can't, bro. I've got a hot date."
"Elio, in the last two weeks alone, you've rotated through at least four women," I say dryly. "You can survive skipping one night. Hell, your dick might even thank you for the break. You act like there's a shortage of women willing to share your bed."
He grins, unapologetic. "Unlike you old heads, I don't need recovery time. My stamina's solid."
I scoff. "We're not that much older than you, dickhead."
Elio's chuckle is sharp, arrogant. "Sure. And now who's delusional?"
I wave him off. "Figure it out. I want everyone here tomorrow night."
"Even Shadow?"
"Shadow's still overseas. Let him know, but tell him I won't be expecting him."
"Yes, sir." He gives me a mock salute.
"And Elio." He stops at the door. "Arturo’s oversees but make sure he’s briefed."
"Moving kind of fast on this, huh?"
"We've waited years for this debt. That's not fast." I smile. "That's the bill finally coming due."
My brother steps out, and I return a call to one of the families regarding Raffaele's handling of the recent confrontation. Raffaele is not only dangerous, but he's a fearless, stubborn asshole. But I told him to handle it, and however he chose to do so is fine with me.
I let the man on the other end talk for a while before wrapping up the conversation.
"Your men crossed the line. If it happens again, you may not be so lucky to get the chance to call me out on it." I make sure he gets the message loud and clear, then disconnect.
I spend the day catching up. I haven't been in my office in over a week, so there's plenty to do. I know I should work through this pile on my desk. Return more calls before it gets late. There's so much I *should* do.
But I can't get her off my mind.
I log into the surveillance feed on my phone, but she's not there. Rosa didn't tell me she was leaving her room.
I wait to see if she comes out of the bathroom, but the door is open and there's no shadow moving around inside.
Her room is empty.
The bed is made, but she usually leaves her slippers right beside it.
They're not there.
No sign of her.
No Valentina.
I call Rosa. She doesn't answer.
I walk to her room as if she might magically appear by the time I arrive, but she's not here. I sit at the edge of her bed, trying to remain calm. The truth is, I've been on edge since the shooting.
This wasn't my first bullet. Not the first attempt on my life. Before I was the Don, my brothers and I protected my father fiercely. Since becoming the King, everyone around me works to keep me safe so I can run this kingdom. For a moment, I guess I forgot how it feels to almost die.
Or maybe there's something different about this one.
Maybe it's the fact that I chose a woman to be my wife. Decided I wanted more.
More than my father had, even though when my mother was alive, he was a complete man. The way she lit up the mansion with her stories. She spent countless hours in the library, and while most mafia wives and politicians’ wives focused on buying expensive bags and jewelry, she collected books.
Books with history most people wouldn't want to explore. She was brilliant, kind, caring, and consistent.
I see the same beauty in Valentina. The moment I saw her photo, I started watching her. Everything about her called to me, and I knew she was the one.
I knew I was going to make her my queen.
But these past few days, I've been avoiding her. Not only because she saw a weakness I've always hidden, but because I made her a promise. She was going to be my wife. Everything that belongs to me would be hers. And I nearly defaulted on that promise.
What would have become of her if I'd died?
It's not like Raffaele to hurt a woman, but she's here. The only outsider we've ever let stay in the mansion, because I chose her.
The thought of dying and leaving her with impossible options makes my blood boil.
What would have happened? What would have become of my bride-to-be?
But most importantly… where the fuck is Valentina?
I send her a message.
You're not in your room.
I watch the three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Remove the cameras, Salvatore.
I don't respond.
Where are you?
Does it matter? You're just going to spy anyway.
I don't want to have to pull up the feed from the entire estate. I have security for that. Just tell me where you are.
A pause. Then:
What do you want, Salvatore?
What do I want?
I want you underneath me. I want your nails in my back and my name on your lips. I want to hear you scream and beg and break apart while I'm buried so deep inside you that you forget to be a smartass.
I want my cock inside that pretty little mouth of yours. I want to ruin you in ways I've never ruined anyone before. I want to make you want to stay.
Valentina, I want to know that you're still here, so I don't have to burn this whole fucking town down to find you.
But I don’t any of that. Instead I take a deep breath and respond.
Dinner tomorrow night with my family. 7:30. Don't be late.
You didn't have to spy on me for that.
See you later, gorgeous.
She wants me to remove the cameras? Not a chance in hell.
I call Nico, who picks up on the first ring. "Boss?"
"Nico, the book she was reading when your men drugged her." I lean forward, getting to the point.
"Sorry, Boss. I was trying to find an angle, but I knew she'd put up a fight—"
"That's not why I called. Do you have the book?"
"I can get it."
"Good. Get it to Rosa to put in her room. Tonight."
"Done." “Oh, and one more thing, go to her library I need you to get something for me.” I send him the details and the answer for Rosa who finally calls me back. But the fact that Valentina texted me has already put my mind at ease, at least a little.
"Hey, Mr. Vitale. I'm sorry, I called you back as soon as I could."
"Where's Valentina?"
"She’s not in her room?”
“No.”
“Ok. She's been finding her footing a little, so I've given her some space to do that. She's either in the library reading or the garden writing."
" The library. I should have gone there first. Instead, I checked her room three times like a fool." I disconnect and head to the library.
The moment I walk in, I can feel her.
My mother.
That's why I don't come in here. She died years ago, but this library has captured her essence in a way I can't explain.
I think about her, everything she was. She would have been pissed if I were running around here searching for a woman I want to keep captive. A woman I actually want to love me one day. The same way she loved my father.
What the fuck is happening to me?
The pain in my side sharpens suddenly, so I sit down, leaning back in the chair with my arm across my face, giving it a minute to subside.
Before I know it, my leg is shaking again.
This is the second time this month. I haven't had this much anxiety since I was a kid, and it's really fucking with me.
I sit there, arm over my face, willing my leg to stop.
It doesn't.
Figure I'll just stay here for a while. It'll stop soon.
While I sit there, thinking about everything I've seen, everything I've done, everything I've become, my leg keeps shaking.
Just relax, Salvatore.
I begin to breathe in and out, summoning my body to obey me.
Suddenly, my leg stops.
My body tenses. Not because it stopped, but because of why it stopped.
I open my eyes to find her hand resting on my thigh, her fingers tracing gentle circles against the fabric.
I catch her wrist before she can pull away completely.
"Valentina." My voice is rough, stripped of it’s usual control.
She waits. Patient. Those green eyes fixed on mine like she can see straight through every wall I've ever built.
“You're here. “
“I'm here.”