Chapter 8
Enzo
Valentina’s place was exactly what I expected.
Spacious, luxurious, with no expense spared.
It wasn’t a cozy, approachable sort of place.
The décor was lavish with vaulted ceilings, marble floors, and oak wood paneling.
In the daytime, the huge windows would let a hell of a lot of light in, but right now, everything was brightly lit with antique chandeliers.
Red was the dominant color in the living room and the reception area out front, the bloody color offset by gold accents.
Every table was decorated with red roses.
Another elegant, opulent touch from a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.
“Nice place,” I said looking around as she led me to the red sectional sofa in the living room.
She smiled and motioned for me to sit down. “You like it? I decorated everything myself.”
“It has your touch which means it’s sublime.” I sank down onto the sofa, exhaustion taking hold. The past twenty-four hours bad been an ordeal. The engagement party followed by the attempt on Don Romano’s life. Hard to believe how much things had changed within a day.
“Sublime, huh? Been reading more poetry?” Valentina asked.
Now it was my turn to smile. “Warrior poets mostly.”
“Of course,” she said, her sensuous lips still curved in a secret sort of smile.
“Aren’t you going to sit?” I asked.
“In a minute. Make yourself comfortable,” she said, heading out of the living room. “I’ll get us some dinner.”
I leaned back in the sofa, the faint scent of roses in the air. I wasn’t sure if she’d bought the place or inherited it, but either way, Valentina had definitely done well for herself. This was a palace fit for a mafia princess of her caliber.
Soon, she returned with a tray of food. Two steaming plates of fettuccini with chicken and broccoli, along with two glasses of some kind of golden liquid on the side.
Not only did she come bearing food, she had changed into her own clothes—a flimsy blouse and denim shorts that accentuated her long, shapely legs.
Naturally Valentina was even more mouthwatering than the meal in her hands.
“Don’t get too excited,” she warned, setting the tray down on the large coffee table. “These are frozen dinners. I didn’t cook this and my chef isn’t here tonight.”
“Food is food,” I said, shamelessly rubbing my hands together. In addition to the exhaustion, it seemed I had worked up an appetite.
Valentina laughed and sat down beside me.
The sound of her laughter was making my heart clench.
She didn’t seem the type of laugh easily but when she did, it fucking ruined me.
It did something to my insides I couldn’t explain.
Sure, there was a desire that her laughter inspired, but there was something deeper.
Being able to make her smile under the circumstances felt really fucking good.
“Buon appetito,” she said.
“Your accent sounds pretty damn good,” I told her.
She smiled faintly. “Thanks. I think the Italian lessons are paying off.”
We started eating, the whole time I was aware of Valentina’s proximity. The warmth of her body made me sweat. The way her legs accidentally bumped against mine sent a jolt through me every time.
As dinner went on, she started telling me about the history of the house.
Not the most exciting topic, but the truth was, Valentina could have talked about anything, and I would have hung on to every fucking word.
From the way her voice went higher when she got excited, to the wistful tones as she talked about family memories, there was a music to her voice that made me sit up and listen.
With dinner winding down, she got quiet. I could sense her exhaustion, probably as much emotional as physical. That was when I said the first thought in my head without thinking.
“You’re going to want to hold on to this place even after we—” Fuck, this was the worst time to get all personal.
“After we get married,” she finished for me, her tone soft. She suddenly seemed fragile. Easily breakable despite the fact that I was pretty sure she was currently armed to the fucking teeth. She had put on a brave face all day. Now it looked like that was beginning to waver.
“Sorry. Guessing that’s a heavy topic right now,” I muttered, wanting to take the words back.
“I suppose I do want to keep the house,” she said. “Did you have any ideas on where we’re going to live?”
“Hadn’t given it much thought,” I answered. “Been so focused on the day, that anything beyond that seemed...out of reach.”
“I hope my papa will be there to walk me down the aisle.” Her voice broke at the end, and her pain tore at my heart, turning it into a bloody pulp.
Without thinking, I reached out to place a hand over hers. All I wanted to do in that moment was ease her torment. “He’ll be there,” I told her firmly. “He’ll fucking be there.”
“This house is big enough for a family you know,” she said then, absently glancing around as if imagining what the place might look like in the future.
“Right.”
“Three or four kids would be ideal,” she said.
“You’re serious?” My eyebrows went up as I watched her. This topic of children had come up only once before and Valentina hadn’t taken it well.
She gave a shrug. “I’m an only child so I’ve always wondered what it would be like to grow up in a house with siblings.”
I snorted. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Sibling rivalry with your brothers?” she asked.
“With those assholes?” I snorted again and shook my head.
“You’ve got to have worthy competition for a sibling rivalry.
Love ’em but my brothers are fucking idiots.
They spend my father’s money on cars and women.
Their idea of a good time is illegally racing our sportscars in the middle of the night. ”
“You don’t get along?” she asked.
“We get along fine,” I said. “But I can’t lean on them. I’m the only brother who takes the business seriously.”
She squinted at me, the gears in her head turning again. “You’re not the oldest brother, right? There’s one older?”
“Yeah, but we don’t base things on age or next in line in my family,” I said.
This was likely a reminder to her instead of it being brand-new information.
Valentina might have missed the secret wedding negotiations, but she hadn’t missed much else.
She’d done her homework pretty fucking thoroughly.
“We pick whoever is best for a job. And with none of my brothers of any use to our father, somebody had to step up.”
I hadn’t simply inherited the role as second.
De Lucas did not crown next in line. We fought for our positions.
In the end, though they’d tried, my brothers weren’t strong or ruthless enough to seize power the way I had.
But other men were strong and they had done everything in their power to block me.
It had been a brutal, violent struggle for the De Luca criminal empire and I had bested everyone in my way to right-hand man.
“That sounds lonely, Enzo,” she said. “Having nobody to lean on.”
“It’s a lonely business at times,” I said, maintaining a flat tone without a hint of emotion.
She’d been right about the loneliness, but there was no point dwelling on it.
Everybody in the underworld had their own cross to bear.
With our violent struggles, loneliness was the least of our problems anyway.
Hard as it was to have nobody to lean on, it was a walk in the park compared to having a hitman after you.
I wouldn’t want to trade places with Don Romano right now.
Loneliness beat a bullet to the chest for fucking sure.
Still, there were times when the isolation hurt in ways I couldn’t describe. Just an endless wasteland that I could never escape. Like walking on a silent, empty, barren landscape—sand and glass at your feet, the world on your shoulders with no one to help you, no one to share the burden.
Funny how I hadn’t felt the pain and despair of loneliness since meeting Valentina. No matter how barren the landscape, she was right beside me. Often, she was insulting or plain trying to fucking kill me, but there had never been a moment of loneliness or boredom. Not once.
“What about you? Do you have anyone to lean on?” I asked her, trying to get the focus off me.
Getting personal with her was cutting a little close to the bone sometimes.
I sure as hell didn’t want to tell her that she had banished a lot of the darkness in my days.
That would just give her power over me, which was something I couldn’t afford.
“Not all the time.” A pained expression softened her features as she picked up her glass with her free hand to swirl the remainder of her cider. “Some days it feels like me against the world.”
“Could be us against the world,” I told her. “You and me.”
“You mean that?”
“You’re going to be my wife,” I said. “Fuck yeah, I mean it.”
“Yes, but are you saying this out of obligation?” she pressed. “Or do you truly mean that you want us to be a team for real? Like a real couple? A real couple that cares for each ot—”
Suddenly our cell phones pinged at the same time.
Probably shouldn’t have been relieved that I was getting literally saved by the bell. Because I sure as fuck didn’t want to actually consider her question.
Valentina set her glass down to reluctantly check her phone. “This might be an update about Papa.”
Nodding, I dug my phone out of my pocket to check the new notification.
As I swiped at the phone screen, I realized I didn’t want to examine my true feelings for her. Much easier to tell myself that a fiancé or a husband would come through for his woman regardless of what he actually felt for her.
Ultimately, feelings didn’t play into this at all. A man had obligations in life, and he saw them through because his word was as ironclad as the law. Valentina was mine to protect. I would stand beside her, as was expected of me.