Fuck.Sebastian Callahan had just become the biggest problem in my life, and I was running out of options that didn’t involve a body bag.
I unlocked the car and slid inside, pulling my phone from my pocket. No missed calls. Yet. Good sign—or a terrible one.Either Sebastian hadn’t reached her yet or Valentina was already dealing with the aftermath alone. Neither option was good, but I’d take the first. I’d figure the rest out on the way.
I pulled away from the curb, gripping the wheel tight enough to turn my knuckles white.
She wasn’t answering my calls, hadn’t responded to the texts I’d sent, and the AA meeting had ended at least half an hour ago by the time I arrived.
When I got home, I shoved the door open harder than necessary, stepping in.
It was dark.
Quiet.
The house felt colder without her, emptier in a way that immediately unsettled me. The tight knot of worry in my gut twisted more.
She wasn’t at her meeting. Not answering her phone. Sebastian was out, pissed, and he’d been one step ahead of me all night.
Panic crept in. I’d always been good at controlling it, pushing it aside, staying calm under pressure, but not tonight. Tonight was different. Tonight was personal. It was about Valentina.
Before I knew it, my hand was moving on its own, swiping violently across the countertop and sending a stack of useless papers scattering to the floor. Bills, files, all of it tumbling to the tile.
I braced my hands on the counter, my breathing ragged, pulse hammering in my ears. “Fuck!” The word ripped from my chest, raw and furious, echoing off the empty walls.
I didn’t recognize my own voice—strained, rough, desperate. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady myself, to pull it together.
My breathing was ragged, harsh, as I tried to piece together my next move. José’s, maybe? She always went there when things got hard. Or maybe?—
But I never finished the thought.
I froze as I heard the sharp clicking near the door.
Heels.
I knew exactly who they belonged to.
Every muscle in my body locked tight. Valentina was here. The relief hit me instantly, hard enough to knock the breath out of me—but the feeling lasted barely a second. Because then I saw her standing in the hall.
Fuck.
I’d expected ... hell, I don’t even know. Maybe tears. Sadness. Disbelief. Devastation. Something I could handle; could explain away, or at least soften. But rage? Pure, unfiltered fury blazing from her eyes? Shit, I’d never seen her look at anyone like that. And now she was aiming it straight at me.
I tried, stupidly, to say her name. “Valen?—”
I didn’t even finish before one of her shoes came hurtling straight at my chest. The pointed heel hit dead-on, a pain like a hot poker searing through my chest. I bit down hard to swallow back a curse. My hand instinctively reached to the spot where she’d nailed me.
The woman had deadly aim.
“Jesus, Valentina?—”
“¡No me vengas con eso, cabrón!”Her voice cracked like a whip. She was already slipping the second shoe off her foot.“No tienes derecho a decir una puta palabra.”
She didn’t pause, just hurled that second shoe at me. I barely ducked in time—Christ, who taught her to throw like that?—the sharp heel sailing past my face close enough for me to feel the rush of air against my skin.
“Youliedto me!” she snapped, voice shaking, trembling, but not with sadness.“¿Crees que soy estúpida,Marco? ¿Crees que no iba a enterarme tarde o temprano?”
She stormed closer, barefoot now, eyes flashing dangerously in the dim light. I’d seen angry men before. Sebastian had once put a gun to my head. But nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to Valentina: tiny, furious, shaking with the kind of wrath that would make most men step back. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
She crossed the distance before I had the chance to figure out my next move, grabbed my tie, and yanked me forward hard enough to knock me off-balance. She was close enough now that I could see every detail of her expression—the hurt, the betrayal, buried beneath layers of blazing fury. Close enough that her eyes burned holes straight through me.
