“No,” I sighed. “But I hope by now you have better taste.”
“Is this your version of an intervention?”
“Call it whatever you want,” I said, straightening the stack of papers in front of me, unable to hold still. “But Callahan isn’t someone who deserves your loyalty.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, curious. “And who does?”
“Someone who hasn’t already proven they’ll let you down when it matters.”
She watched me carefully, as if searching for something beneath the words. “Someone like you?”
I held her gaze. “I wouldn’t still be sitting here if I planned on letting you down, Valentina.”
She stood up slowly and walked around the desk. She leaned against the edge, half-sitting, half-standing, like she couldn’t decide how much of my space she wanted to claim.
“You really think you wouldn’t let me down?”
Her eyes stayed on mine, waiting for an answer.
If the question had come from anyone else, I wouldn’t have paused. I would’ve said something clean. I would’ve redirected. But it had come from her, and I didn’t lie to her—not when it mattered. I lied to everyone else. Max. Judges. Enemies. Myself. But not to her. At least not convincingly.
“No,” I admitted. “I wouldn’t.”
I sat back in my chair and studied her, more out of habit than comfort. There were nights when she filled every inch of space she entered. Tonight she was doing it in silence.
She was close now. Closer than she needed to be. One of her legs pressed lightly against the side of the desk, hip nudging into the edge of a folder I hadn’t touched since she walked in. Her perfume lingered in the space between us—lavender. God, she had no idea what she did to a room. Or maybe she did, and that was the problem.
“You wouldn’t?” she asked again, feigning interest like it was all hypothetical.
I didn’t answer her, because it wasn’t hypothetical. She knew that. She wanted to see what I’d do with it.
Truth was, I’d thought about it more than I should’ve. About what would happen if she asked something of me I couldn’t give. If she wanted more than I was built for. If she turned thatsharp little mouth of hers on me with something real behind it. Not sarcasm. Not teasing. Just honesty. Could I handle that? Probably not. But I didn’t say any of that. Instead I sat there perfectly still, the bones in my jaw clenched so tight I could feel it in my ears.
“I haven’t yet.”
She moved toward me, and I knew right then I was fucked.
Because this was Valentina. She didn’t ask for permission, and she never tiptoed. She just pushed my knees apart, invading every boundary I tried and failed to set.
I should’ve stopped her. I could’ve, probably. But I didn’t. I sat there frozen like an idiot, trying not to focus on how perfectly her thighs fit between mine or the exact way her breath hitched as she settled on my lap.
Her legs straddled me, skirt riding up her thighs, and I was trying—failing—not to look; to keep my eyes locked on hers instead of wandering down like some teenage boy. But goddamn it, I was only human, and Valentina knew exactly what she was doing. She always did.
She put her hands on my face, fingertips gentle, thumbs brushing my jawline, and leaned in until I had nowhere else to look but straight into her eyes.
“Still want to talk about Callahan?” she asked.
“Fuck no,” I hissed.
“Good,” she said, leaning down again, lips hovering close enough that I could taste every syllable she spoke. “Because I’d hate to think you were thinking about another man right now.”
I slapped my hand against her ass. “I swear to God, Valentina,” I muttered against her lips.
I wanted her so fucking badly it hurt, and she knew it. Hell, she thrived on it. She always had. Probably always would. The more off-balance I was, the more control she seemed to have, and I’d already lost any hope of getting it back.
Then she kissed me.
And shit, it wasn’t soft. Wasn’t sweet. It was demanding, almost confrontational, like she was proving a point.
