Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
BEX
Valentina Navarro is, hands down, the prettiest person I’ve ever seen up close. I don’t mean to stare, but it’s hard not to– she’s one of those people your eyes keep drifting back toward whether you want them to or not.
Her skin is smooth and golden, so flawless it almost looks airbrushed.
Her eyes are this otherworldly shade of hazel, framed by thick, dark lashes that somehow make them look even bigger.
Glossy brunette waves tumble over her shoulders like an old Hollywood starlet, and the rest of her is just as exquisite– long legs, a tiny waist, perfect tits and ass.
It’s honestly a little rude.
The way she looks is what catches your attention, but the way she moves is what keeps it.
She doesn’t walk so much as glide, every step graceful without looking practiced.
There’s an effortless femininity to her in the way she smiles, the way she laughs, the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear while she’s listening to someone speak.
She doesn’t have an accent– not one I can place, anyway– but there’s the faintest lilt to her voice that softens the edges of every sentence and somehow makes everything she says sound just a little bit sexier.
Suffice to say, I understand the appeal.
Whether it’s vampire allure or just who she is, there’s something magnetic about her.
She’s the kind of person who makes you feel like you’re the most interesting thing in the room simply because she’s chosen to focus her attention on you.
Before long, you find yourself willing to do anything to keep it.
I can see why Elliott would be attracted to her.
Hell, I’m attracted to her.
There are plenty of things I love about men– the size of their hands, the solid weight of their bodies, the blunt, uncomplicated hunger in their eyes when they want you.
But women are different. Softer, more intuitive.
Men hit like lightning, while women slowly draw you in until you suddenly realize you’re already standing in the middle of the storm.
By the time we sit down for dinner, I find myself hanging on Valentina’s every word, torn between admiration and outright envy.
You’d think it’d be awkward, sitting beside the vampire who claimed me as his source while making small talk with his breathtakingly gorgeous ex-girlfriend. Instead, I’m… actually having a good time.
Which is every bit as annoying as it sounds.
Valentina has a way of making conversation feel effortless.
She asks about my tattoos, seeming genuinely interested in how I got into art and listening so intently that I catch myself sharing far more personal details than I would with an average stranger.
When I mention one of my worst tattoo requests from a client, she laughs so hard she nearly spits out her champagne before immediately demanding to hear another.
Then she turns the conversation toward Elliott, asking about his latest research before accusing him, with mock horror, of forcing me to slave away in his lab.
He’s less than amused, which only encourages us.
Before long, Valentina and I are exchanging conspiratorial glances across the table, trying– and mostly failing– not to laugh every time Elliott sighs or corrects one of our increasingly ridiculous accusations.
He takes it all with long-suffering patience, though I swear I catch the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth once or twice.
It’s… fun.
Unexpectedly so.
Until Elliott leans over and murmurs something only Valentina can hear. She smiles at him slyly, answering just as quietly.
There’s nothing remarkable about the exchange. No touching, no flirting, nothing I’d think twice about if it were anyone else. But there’s an ease between them that catches me off guard; the kind that only comes from years of shared history.
And just like that, the jealousy I felt when he first introduced me to her creeps back in.
I feel it settle low in my gut, ugly and irrational, making me painfully aware that I’m the outsider at this table. The one who still has to guess what Elliott’s expressions mean while Valentina seems able to read him without trying.
I hate how inadequate it makes me feel.
Then Valentina turns her attention back to me and asks another question about the tattoo shop, blissfully unaware of my brief spiral. Within minutes, she’s laughing at another story, and somehow I’ve forgotten all over again why I was supposed to dislike her.
The two of them barely touch their food while I demolish my filet, and the serving staff continually materializes every time one of our glasses dips below half full.
By the time the dinner plates disappear and dessert arrives, I’m halfway drunk on expensive champagne and even more expensive company.
Someone steps up to the podium, tapping lightly on the microphone, and a collective hush falls over the ballroom.
The president of the National Science Foundation introduces himself, launching into a speech filled with words like innovation, excellence, and scientific advancement. Everyone around me seems captivated.
Meanwhile, I’m bored out of my damn skull.
I try to listen; I really do. But by the second speaker, I’ve started quietly ranking the centerpieces by which one I’d most like to steal. By the third, I’m contemplating whether I could fit one of the crystal vases under my dress without anyone noticing.
Valentina catches me staring off into space and bites back a smile.
“You look bored,” she whispers.
I heave a quiet sigh. “I am bored.”
She smiles knowingly, shaking her head. “It’ll be over soon.”
I glance toward the man still enthusiastically droning on about grant funding and scientific collaboration.
“I don’t know,” I mutter under my breath. “I think this one has another forty-five minutes in him.”
She snorts into her champagne, hastily disguising it as a cough.
Elliott turns his attention away from the speaker just long enough to dart us both a warning glance, and we immediately compose ourselves.
I go back to staring around the room, Valentina turns her gaze back to the podium.
Then finally, after what feels like a lifetime, the speaker announces Elliott’s name.
The room erupts into applause. I leap to my feet with everyone else, clapping and cheering so loudly that Elliott shoots me a withering look before making his way to the podium.
He doesn’t look nervous to be taking center stage. If anything, he looks mildly inconvenienced by the entire ordeal.
The board presents him with a crystal award while cameras flash from every direction. He accepts it with a polite nod, shakes the appropriate hands, then adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he steps up to the podium.
The ballroom falls silent. I have no idea what to expect, but for the first time since the speeches began, my attention is fully locked in.
Elliott clears his throat.
“Thank you,” he begins, the rich tone of his voice booming through the speakers.
He offers his gratitude to the foundation, acknowledges the collaborators who contributed to his work, and expresses hope that future discoveries continue improving humanity. Then he nods once and steps away from the microphone.
That’s it.
The speech lasts a whole two minutes, tops, and applause follows him all the way back to the table. I clap just as enthusiastically the second time, grinning at Elliott as he sets the crystal award on the table and retakes his seat.
“Not sure if I should congratulate you on the award or the shortest speech of the night,” I tease.
“Acceptance speeches are frequently self-indulgent,” he replies, reaching for his wine.
I smirk. “Isn’t that the whole point?”
He gives a small shrug. “For some.”
Valentina smiles knowingly. “Eli likes to pretend he’s above all this posturing.”
He doesn’t deny it, the two of them sharing a look. It only lasts a second, but it’s enough to make my stomach dip– not to mention that every time she calls him Eli instead of Elliott, something inside me wilts just a little.
I want to hate her, I really do, but then she catches my eye and flashes one of those dazzling smiles before leaning over to whisper about the president of the board finding another excuse to take the microphone, and I snort into my champagne before I can stop myself.
Dammit.
The president wraps things up with closing remarks, and moments later the orchestra swells back to life. Conversations bloom throughout the ballroom as guests rise from their tables, drinks in hand, drifting into little clusters to socialize.
Beside me, Valentina glances toward the growing crowd and lets out a theatrical sigh.
“I suppose I should make the rounds,” she says, rising from her chair. She smooths an imaginary wrinkle from her dress before resting a hand briefly on Elliott’s shoulder. “I’ll be back. Take care of my girl.”
She tosses me a wink before peeling away from the table, and within seconds she’s swallowed by a sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, effortlessly smiling her way from one conversation to the next.
I watch her weave through the ballroom, somehow managing to make every person she stops to speak with look like they’ve just been handed the greatest gift imaginable.
I probably watch for a little too long. She’s fascinating, especially in a room full of boring scholarly types. A wave of servers deliver dessert plates, but I barely even glance at the chocolate cake when it’s placed in front of me, my attention still fixed across the room.
“You like her.”
I glance back at Elliott. It isn’t phrased as a question, but a statement.
“Yeah,” I admit, unable to hide my smile. I gesture toward Valentina, surrounded by admirers. “I mean… what’s not to like?” My eyes drift back to her almost on instinct before returning to Elliott again. “Is that weird for you?”
“Not at all,” he replies without an ounce of hesitation. “I’m glad you’ve found some enjoyment in the evening.”
“Haven’t you?” I ask, cocking a brow.