36. Valerie

Chapter thirty-six

Valerie

T he waiter pours me a glass and I smile because of course, it's my favourite wine. Of course, he knows exactly which one I prefer, down to the year.

He sits with a smug look on his face until the waiter leaves, "Are you happy with the wine choice?"

"How did you know?" I ask, taking a sip of the delicious wine.

"I am a wine connoisseur."

I roll my eyes and chuckle. "You're so full of yourself."

"You could be full of me too, just say the word." He sips his wine and I nearly choke on mine.

"If I wanted to have a dinner filled with innuendos, I'd go out with Adriano and Gus."

Ambrose's face sours so quickly that I can't even stop myself from laughing. "I'm kidding. What's going on with you guys anyway?"

"What do you mean? How do oysters for starters sound?" He lifts a menu so it partially obstructs his face. I raise my brow at his obvious avoidance of the topic.

"I hate oysters, they taste like phlegm, and you know exactly what I mean. I know you and Adriano are close but I never see you and Gus alone in a room for more than five minutes at a time. Not to mention what happened at your papa's funeral."

His green eyes flash to mine from above the menu and from the darkness behind them I can tell I've struck a nerve, but before I can get any more details the waiter returns and we place our orders for starters and mains.

He sighs as soon as the waiter leaves. "Adriano and I have always been the closest amongst our brothers. He's the most mature out of the three of them." He shrugs.

"I'm surprised you and Enzo aren't closer since you're practically the same age."

A smile runs over Ambrose's face and he shakes his head. "Over my father's dead body, he's too much like his father for us to ever be close. I've never seen someone so rich, be so desperate for money, the way that he is."

"He is a bit weird, but back to Gus, it doesn't just seem like you guys aren't close–it looks like more."

Another sigh . "For someone who gave me shit about prying this morning, you're feeling awfully chatty."

I shrug, knowing he's right. "I am, I'm sorry, you don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable."

"I wouldn't say uncomfortable…" He runs a hand over the stubble on his face. I noticed he didn't shave this morning and he usually purposefully doesn't when he knows he has a stressful day ahead. "More so angry," he finishes

"Angry? Was it that bad?" I know the answer. I've seen the boys fight before but the way Ambrose and Gus fought the night of the funeral was like nothing I've ever seen before.

"You're going to think I'm a horrible person if I tell you the story, or at least you'll think I'm a horrible brother," he admits, eyes trained on the plate in front of him.

"I'm not here to sit in judgement of you for whatever happened."

"It isn't a crazy story, but when my father had his heart attack, he was with Augustus handling business. Instead of doing the logical thing and calling for help, Gus froze and just stood there until one of the nearby store owners eventually called for an ambulance, but by the time they got there it was too late." His jaw clenches and he's not looking at me. His eyes haven't moved from the empty plate in front of him. "They said if he had gotten help sooner, he might still be alive today."

"So you blame him." I end, and he simply nods. I never knew the cause of Luciano's death but this is the furthest thing I could have possibly thought it would be. "I don't think you're a bad brother or person. I do think you have to realise that everyone deals with trauma in different ways. Some people are good in those sorts of situations and they can function, but others tend to shut down the way Gus did."

"I know, I've heard it all before. I know it wasn't truly his fault but I can't help it. Whenever I think about it all, I get so angry," he says and I can tell he's exhausted from feeling this way.

"Angry at Gus for not doing anything? Or angry because if your father didn't die, you wouldn't have all this responsibility now?" I ask, and he stares at me as if he's never thought about it in that way. "I'm not trying to tell you how to feel or where to place your anger but whether Gus called for help or not that day, your time is your time, and your father was unfortunately meant to die that day. I went around in circles when my mamá died as well, wondering if we could've done more but at the end of the day it's never in our control anyway."

"I guess I just wonder what things would've been like if he survived that day instead." Ambrose slumps back into the seat bringing his glass of wine to his lips.

"Well, I doubt we'd be sitting here right now," I say and he nods slowly.

"No, I guess we wouldn't be," he says.

The starters arrive as the conversation winds down and as I'm enjoying it, I realise an odd point. "Did your dad have heart problems? Because I can't remember ever hearing anything. "

"No, he didn't, it was a sudden one. The doctors said it was brought on by stress and he definitely had a lot going on with me constantly making tabloid headlines," he says sheepishly.

"To be fair, I didn't even know about the headlines until I got back into town so it isn't like the entire world knew," I smirk.

"Or you just lived under a rock, sweetheart…everyone knew." he chuckles. But that's all behind me now, I'm a changed man."

"Oh yeah? Since when?" I scoff.

"When did you get here? Wow, has it almost been half a year already?" he asks, checking his phone, my stupid heart does the biggest cartwheel it ever has and for a few seconds, I feel like I'm having a heart attack and might join Luciano today.

"What made you ask about my scar?" I ask abruptly in the middle of our mains.

He freezes a fork midway to his mouth as if he's wondering if he should even begin to indulge in this conversation again.

"I noticed it the first time at the family dinner, but recently …" He trails off and unfortunately confirms something I've been suspecting since this morning. First, it was the bags under his eyes but that coupled with him always acting a bit weird in the mornings, always checking if I was okay.

"The nightmares started again didn't they?"

His eyes are wide and he nods slowly. "You know about them? I thought you had always forgotten by the morning so I've never asked."

"I don't have any recollection of them starting up but it must be because you're soothing me back to sleep, but when they happen, when I'm alone, I always wake up in fright as if I'd just lived them," I say pushing my now unappetizing pasta around the plate.

"Do you know what triggered them again?"

I stay silent. Today is supposed to be a happy day, a day to celebrate, not one where I dig up my past and throw it out on the table.

"I've already trauma dumped so don't think you'll ruin dinner if you bring it up."

I shake my head and take a deep breath. My vision is already blurring and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

"Shhh, come here." He calls me over. Without hesitation, I walk over to him and he pulls me onto his lap and into his chest. The tears run down my cheeks freely and land on his chest staining the expensive suit jacket. His one hand settles on the side of my thigh while the other gently rubs my back.

"The whole relationship with Mattheo started pretty quickly, and I was head over heels for him–I'm sorry you probably don't wanna hear about all that." I sniff.

"Tell me everything, Valerie." His voice is deep but not cold. Somehow it sounds like a warm hug that brings me enough comfort to allow me to carry on.

"I was obsessed with him and for a while I thought he was obsessed with me too but I was wrong. Anyway, at the start of the relationship, he'd always be busy in meetings and we would fly to so many countries for him to meet with different people but I didn't realise that the meetings were actually with really bad people." I sigh and Ambrose squeezes my thigh gently encouraging me to carry on.

"It was only one day when a few friends and I were in a club and this guy cornered me on the way back from the bathroom with a gun, that I started to realise what was going on. He threatened to kill my family if I didn't go with him–"

My voice cracks and I'm full-blown sobbing at this point, as I allow years of repressed memories to all come flooding back in.

Ambrose is fully cradling me as I cry and I swear I couldn't thank God enough for him right now.

"I was so scared because my mamá was sick at that point and my papá was the only one who could take care of her. Thankfully, one of the security guards worked for Mattheo and told him he saw me leaving with a random man. Mattheo's jealousy was probably what saved my life that night, because after they had gotten me into their van and realised they were being followed, they quite literally tossed me to the curb. I broke my jaw and had a few other minor fractures. The doctor said I was lucky to be alive." I say, a shiver running down my entire body.

The door creaks open and I panic trying to shoot up but Ambrose holds me in place. "Get out," is all he says, causing the door to quickly shut again.

"Anyway, long story short, it turns out it was someone Mattheo owed money to and they were trying to take me for ransom and now here we are two and half years later, me still dealing with nightmares from that night."

"So when Horatio grabbed you in the club…"

"It all came flooding back," I say, my voice cracking towards the end. It's a horrible uncontrollable cry that has me shaking and struggling to breathe, the kind I've only ever let escape when I was alone.

Ambrose is right there through the entire thing, trying to soothe me, allowing me to feel all of my emotions after I calm down enough to talk. I sit up slightly and I wipe what I can only assume is a masterpiece of smudged mascara and lipstick.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart, stop it." He wipes a tear away.

"I got make-up on your suit." I frown trying to wipe it with a napkin.

"I own the label, I can have another one here tonight. I don't fucking care about it. I care about you being okay, sweetheart," he says in a hushed tone.

"I don't think I've ever told anyone that story before, not even Natalia."

"I'm honoured that you'd trust me with something like that Val, I want you to know I'm here for you, whenever you need it."

All I can do is nod, too scared to say anything else, because from everything this morning I don't think anyone has ever cared for me as much as Ambrose does.

"C'mon, let's get out of here." He kisses my cheek quickly before smacking my ass lightly as I get up.

As we're driving towards Ambrose's house to pick up my things, my phone's notifications are going off like crazy. It's a reminder about the commission and how the delivery date is coming up in the next few weeks and it's reminding me how I definitely haven't started yet.

" Cazzo," I breathe out

"What's going on?" Ambrose asks as we pull into the driveway, his eyes darting around the driveway checking who is at home even though we always take the side entrance to get to his room.

"I have this commission coming up, and I haven't gone to get the supplies yet." I sigh and slump onto his bed.

"How come?" He furrows his brows.

"I guess I've just been procrastinating it, I've been struggling with my creativity a bit."

He remains quiet for a bit. "Do you want to go get them on the way to your house? I don't know what time art stores close around here." He shrugs as he starts packing up my things.

"Could we please? Also, I can do that," I say, standing up.

"Sit down, Val, I've got it," he scolds.

"Are you trying to get rid of me, Ambrose Vitale?" I ask hoping my tone conveys how insulted I feel.

"Never, sweetheart," he stops next to the bed. "Quite frankly I'd ask you to move in but…" he trails off.

"But you know I can't because of my papá and also because Antonio will lose his shit," I say with my eyebrow raised and he rolls his eyes before leaning down.

"But I know you deserve more than sneaking around every single day." He connects our lips.

"I wouldn't mind sneaking around every single day if it ended like this." His lips on mine are enough to have me throbbing. He gently pushes me backwards until my back hits the mattress. The kisses slowly start moving along my jaw and down to my neck melting away the stress of today.

"The nearest art store closes in thirty minutes." I moan out.

"How far is it?"

"About ten minutes."

"I can do a lot in ten minutes."