Chapter Nineteen

Hanging out with Gracie and Mrs. Valentino was incredible as we shopped, ate lunch, and gossiped for hours, but all I could think about was getting home to Damiano and our special dinner.

He'd been different this morning when I confessed my imprisonment. The way he held me and the intense look in his beautiful, stormy gray eyes felt like we had a breakthrough.

I picked out the perfect dress for dinner tonight. I skipped up to our bedroom with my purchases, or rather, Adriano helped me. "Goodness, what did you do, buy out the store?"

"Come on, you're built like a building. Is it really that heavy? I can take them from you."

"Ha. The boss man would have my neck."

"Do you know when he'll be back?"

"He's in his office, but you know you can't interrupt him."

"Yep. Learned my lesson, unless there's a bitch in there." I give him a side eye.

"You don't have to worry about that, Mrs. Valentino."

"Says you, but he owns a club called Body Count and there are half-naked women dancing around there, and he's very comfortable up in that suite of his. He has tons of women up there."

"What? Who told you that bullshit lie? If I were you, I'd never say that in front of Mr. Valentino. He wouldn't take it too kindly. That's for business and friends only."

"Yes, but my stepsister was up there, so there's no accounting for taste."

"That was a safety precaution, and Gracie got an earful for that, I'm sure." He nods and chuckles. "By more than the boss man."

"Thanks." We stop at the bedroom and I open the door, entering first. Adriano sets the bags on the floor near the door and then says, "If you need anything, I'm outside here until there's a need for a switch."

"Thank you again."

"No problem, Mrs. Valentino." He nods and steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.

I take a moment to sit on the bed without saying a word and let out a hard breath. It's been on my mind since that night, but I refuse to bring it up because there is nothing that will change the past. So what did he mean by it? Did she put her hands on him? That's possible. She could have flirted with him, and he brushed it off like the jerk at the bar did with me. I didn't welcome it, but it happened anyway and there wasn't a way to stop it.

A knock shakes me out of my thoughts. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Valentino?"

"Come in, Adriano."

He opens the door and peeks in. "Mr. Valentino would like to have an early dinner since he needs to be at the club in two hours. Please be ready in an hour."

"Okay. Thank you." He closes the door, and I look for the sexy dress I plan to wear and hang it up. If he doesn't intend on staying home with me, it's pointless to wear. Grabbing a cute dress, I slide it from the closet and wash up in the shower, leaving my hair pinned up since I don't have time to dry it.

When I finish preparing for my evening with my husband, I'm a ball of nerves. This could totally go sideways. Damiano and I haven't said or done much together since we've married but fight or have sex.

Since I'm ready early, I leave my room, only to run directly into my husband's broad chest. "Whoa," Damiano says, catching me before I fall back.

"Sorry, I thought we'd meet downstairs."

"We are. I wanted to clean up. Stella, you look beautiful."

"Thank you."

He releases me and says, "I'll be ready shortly. Do you want to wait in our room, or downstairs?"

"I'll be in the library."

"Very well, Stella." He kisses my cheek and passes by to go into the bedroom.

Benz is on the steps waiting for me. "Mrs. Valentino," he mutters an obligatory greeting.

"Benz. I'll be in the library. You don't need to escort me there."

"I do."

"Okay—if you enjoy being a glorified babysitter." I huff my way down the marble staircase. The mansion is truly gorgeous. If my life had been different, if Damiano had feelings for me, I could absolutely fall in love with this magnificent home. Instead, it feels like a luxurious cage.

When I open the library doors, I get an icky feeling that Benz is going to follow me inside. It's so weird that I didn't get a strange vibe when Adriano, the giant tank, brought the clothes into the bedroom, but the lean Benz follows me anywhere and I want to jump out of my skin. Would it be wrong to mention it to Damiano? Probably. He's a mobster—"the" mobster. He's likely either to tell me I'm paranoid or take his man out back and put a bullet in his head because I'm being irrational.

"You don't need to be in the room with me. I'm perfectly safe inside the library unless I manage a paper cut, and I'm pretty sure Damiano already told you that you weren't allowed to touch me." He scoffs and closes the door on his way out. "Prick."

I pace the library, looking for something of interest, but my nerves are frayed. Picking up a nicely bound edition of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, I sit down on a high winged-back chair and rest my feet on the matching ottoman. With a sigh, I begin the classic and fall in love with the first few chapters before my eyes grow heavy.

****

I don't know what time it is when I startle awake, but Damiano enters our bedroom. "I didn't mean to wake you, sleeping beauty."

"Well, it's hard to eat dinner in my sleep."

"I'm afraid it's well past dinner, but we can go down to the kitchen and I'll fix you breakfast."

"Breakfast?" I gasp. "How did I get in here? Did one of your men carry me?"

"Not unless they wanted to lose their hands." That brings an internal burst of joy to my chest. "I went to check on you for dinner, but you were asleep. I didn't want to wake you, so I carried you to bed and then I went to the club early."

And there goes all happiness, joy dashed. "Oh. No, I don't need breakfast. I'd rather just go back to bed."

"Good. I'm tired." He slides under the covers and pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly as if somehow there's nothing wrong with what happened tonight. As much as I want to cry, I won't. You can't make someone love you.

"Goodnight, or morning, Damiano."

"Goodnight, my wife," he sighs sleepily.

"For now," I whisper, voice cracking as my hopes for us fade away.