17. Valerie

Chapter seventeen

Valerie

T he dinner is filled with small talk at our table, charitable donations that could put all my debt to rest and a searing heat on my left thigh, where mine and Ambrose's leg touched for the entire meal.

Now I'm sitting bored out of my mind at the table. Ambrose and Adriano excused themselves to speak to a few investors, and after checking on me multiple times, and me reassuring him I was fine, Ambrose finally left me alone to focus on whatever they needed to discuss.

Adriano's date, Gabriella, as I've learned in the last five minutes, is so deep into her phone, I'm worried she might get sucked into the matrix without even needing a pill.

I sigh, when I reassured Ambrose that I'd be fine I assumed the discussions would be light and short, but I was mistaken.

There's an entire museum, I'll be damned if I'm going to sit here and stare at flowers, as beautiful as they are. I'm not that interested in them. I also have no interest in being an art piece myself just sitting here on display.

Weaving through the crowd, I make my way out of the exhibition space and down the hall to where things seem quieter and less...rich. Well, that's an understatement, since so many of the pieces in this museum are priceless .

I stroll down the hall until I can no longer hear the chatter of the dinner before picking a room and heading inside. A gasp immediately lodges itself in my throat, but I hold it in with the hopes of staying silent and not getting in trouble for sneaking around a museum.

The exhibition space I've entered has an entire wall lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that allow the white glow of the full moon to light up the otherwise dark space. Small floor lights are littered around, what appears to be some sort of moat, presumably to make sure no one falls in even after dark.

My heels click against the tiles, echoing as I walk to the centre of the room. The space must be part of an Egyptian wing in the museum; the walls are all covered with different kinds of hieroglyphics, along with small figures that I presume were placed in the tombs with the mummies for their rest in the afterlife.

I scoff to myself, wondering what treasures like this are doing so far from their home.

As I stroll around the exhibit, the details of the art pieces and treasures draw me in, telling me more and more of their story. The tale of a love story between a pharaoh and his queen. The details of their lives, and their fall from glory.

Seems like even the greatest of loves crash and burn at some point.

A light tap against the window makes me jump, and I quickly slide behind one of the large sarcophagi in the centre of the room. A chill shoots down my spine as my eyes dart between the large doorways of the room waiting to see a security guard enter, but nothing.

A sigh of relief leaves my body, the last thing I need is to get caught and then be banned from this place forever.

"You could give a burglar a run for their money with how sneaky you are," a voice says from behind me.

Spinning around quickly causes my ankle to twist uncomfortably, and I nearly end up on my ass when a large hand shoots out and grabs my waist, stopping me before gravity can continue to embarrass me further .

"Okay, maybe I'm going to have to take that back," Ambrose's voice comes out like velvet as he steadies me on my feet again. His eyes trace over me making sure I'm stable enough, but even then his hand doesn't leave my waist.

"What are you doing here?" I cringe, as my voice comes out in more of a hoarse whisper than I anticipated. Clearing my throat, I step back out of his hold and wait for his answer.

"Could ask you the same thing, sweetheart," he steps closer and I find myself backing up further. Mischief glints in his eyes as a small smirk plays on his lips. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, and it's the first time I notice how perfectly carved his features are.

Of course, I know Ambrose Vitale is attractive, even a blind person would say that if they were only able to feel his face. The way he looks in this light, with his green eyes filled with trouble, he could put every piece of art in here to shame. I'm sure he is what Auguste Rodin envisioned when he started working on his sculptures of man.

"I saw you leave, got a bit worried when you never came back," he reveals.

He's still stepping closer and I'm still backing up, but it's not long before my back hits the wall of the centrepiece.

"I didn't want to disturb you while you were busy." I try to compose myself. It's taking every ounce of self-control to not melt into a puddle at his feet under his inviting warmth.

He scoffs and my eyes snap up to him, but now they're looking up at the ceiling. A laugh escapes his lips, it doesn't sound sincere though, it sounds strangled and painful. When his eyes return to mine I no longer want to melt under them, instead it makes me want to run away at how harsh they seem.

"You're a walking, talking, pink-wearing distraction," he says.

My words form a ball and lodge themselves in my throat as I try to process what he's saying, but he's too close. He's everywhere all at once. His entire body pinning me against the wall, as his hands rest slightly above my head. The gold chain peeking out from his shirt catches the light of the moon and glints back at me.

My eyes drop from his, but he reaches for my chin and forces me to look up at him. It's a contrast to how he grabbed my face that night at the restaurant. It's gentle yet just firm enough to force me to look up at him without me being able to object

"A distraction so perfect, it's as if you were made just for me."

"Maybe I was."

I have no idea why those are the words that decide to leave my mouth, they feel foreign on my tongue, especially towards Ambrose of all people. Something about the way my entire body is on fire right now, and the sudden wetness pooling in my panties makes me want to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, I am his perfect distraction because he sure as hell feels like mine.

He inhales deeply before he opens his eyes. He‘s now mere inches from my face. "And that sweetheart, is what terrifies me."

"Why?"

The hand that is gently cupping my chin now slowly moves until it's wrapped around my neck, holding me firmly in place.

My heart wants to burst out of my chest, as his lips move even closer. His eyes still locked with mine

"Because you're not mine to have."

Before his words even have the chance to register, he's gone. The warmth, his scent, his hands. Everything.

He backs up drastically and is now staring at me as if he could pounce at any second. It looks like an internal battle for control and all I want is for that shred of control to snap.

"Let's go," he commands, as he takes my hand and leads me out of the exhibit and back to where dinner is. As if the sudden rush of air brings back reality, I realise how horrible the situation is. Aside from having no idea what Ambrose is talking about, everything went in the completely opposite way of how things were supposed to .

This was supposed to be a stupid little date. I pretend to be with him, and he pays me an ungodly amount of money for it. Instead, I've been broadcast to every news site in Europe and possibly the rest of the world. I'm supposed to be healing from my awful marriage turned divorce, working on my art, and taking care of my father, not almost hooking up with my boss.

Oh, my God. I was considering letting my boss, who is also my best friend's brother, who is also Ambrose Vitale, Europe's most notorious playboy, kiss me.

That's beyond fucked.

I'm beyond fucked.

My brain doesn't stop its overthinking when we reach the dinner table, nor does it stop when we start saying our goodbyes.

I somehow manage to smile and nod in all the right places as we greet a few investors, but something about how Adriano looks between me and Ambrose makes me feel uneasy. It's as if he knows exactly what happened. As if he was right there in the room with us, but then his face changes to his usual charming smile and relief washes over me as we move to leave.

It isn't until we're almost at my house that Ambrose finally graces me with his attention again. "Horatio and Diego couldn't stop talking about you. Did you happen to put them both in a trance?"

My head snaps in his direction, surprised by his question. He seems to do that a lot, surprising me with the questions he chooses to ask.

"Depends." He smirks at my response, the same as when he asked me to tonight's event. "Horatio knew a lot about a few French artists I'm interested in, so we had something to talk about."

He nods the muscles in his jaw tensing. "I'm sure that's the reason he was so eager to talk to you." His eyes look at me before they return to the front of the car where the driver sits.

"Are you jealous?" I exclaim, shifting forward in my seat to get a better look at his face. I can see him glance away, but at the same time try to hide a smile by running his palm over his mouth and jaw.

"I don't get jealous, Valerie. It seems like you were the only one able to hold his attention."

I shift, taken aback, I can't tell whether to be upset or not by what he's said, mainly because I can't tell if he's joking or not. "Oh right, I wouldn't want to be too much of a distraction."

We pull up outside my house, and I can see him try to suppress a grin. "The mere thought of you is enough of a distraction for any man, Val," and with that, he hops out of the car and rounds it, opening the door for me.

"Thank you for your help tonight," he says, walking me toward the door.

"Thank you for inviting me, I had fun." I smile up at him as we reach the door, and I open my purse looking for my keys. As if everything from tonight didn't leave me confused enough, what he does next shocks me to my core.

He leans down and kisses the top of my head. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

I freeze and stare at him awkwardly, "Okay, bye." I bolt inside my house and slam the door closed behind me.

I can hear his deep laugh from behind the door and I peek through the small window and watch as he walks back to his car, only for him to turn back and look at the door briefly. The smile on his face makes me weak in the knees, and I practically buckle in my heels and for the second time tonight, a thought runs through my head.

I truly am fucked.

As I turn around, I spot a black paper on the floor and all happiness from this evening disappears in an instant.

God, no.

I hesitate for a second before I bend down to pick up the piece of card.

Running doesn't matter. I'll hunt you down if I have to. He can't protect you.

Fuck.