“You’re welcome.” He steps back with a mock scowl. “Don’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t want to ruin my brooding, not-nice persona.”
I roll my eyes, smiling. “You? Nice? Never.”
His eyes flash with amusement as I turn and climb into the car. I slide into my seat, heart lighter than it’s been in weeks. I tuck the journal into my bag, resting my hand over it like it’s something sacred.
Because maybe it is. My life is filled with expensive luxury, but the simple things—like this—are the ones that mean the most.
Valerio gets in the front and glances at me through the mirror. His eyes flick to my neck as I take off my scarf. When I meet his gaze, he quickly looks away.
“That necklace,” he says, almost absently. “It’s the Davacalli necklace.”
I look down at the small pendant. “It is. Matteo gave it to me years ago. It’s a family heirloom passed down from one Davacalli woman to the next.”
His jaw twitches, but he says nothing. Just nods once, starts the engine, and pulls away from the house.
We drive in silence all the way to the spa, a gift from my husband. With the new collection looming and New York Fashion Week around the corner,stresseddoesn’t begin to cover what I feel.
Valerio parks in the lot and steps out, letting me exit the car.
“Enjoy being pampered,principessa,” he says, settling back into his seat with his phone in hand. “And remember—your panic button. On your phone.”
I nod.But just as I’m about to close the door, I pause and look back at him.
“Is there something going on?”
His brows pull together, expression unreadable behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Why would you ask that?”
“You’re shadowing me,” I say plainly. “Matteo only asks you to shadow me when he’s out of town or when there’s a threat. And he’s on the Upper East Side—thirty minutes from here. So what is it?”
I don’t want to jump to the worst-case scenario, but history has a way of haunting me. If something has resurfaced, I need to know. Ideserveto know.
“I requested to be on your security detail today,” he says.
Liar.
“Why?”
He blinks once. “For all your yapping and intrusive questioning, Beatrice, I actually enjoy your company. And I wanted to give you your gift personally.”
I smack my lips together loudly. I don’t buy that for a second. “Oh. That’s… unlike you.”
“You don’t know a whole lot about me, Bea.”
And he’s right—I don’t. But I’ve lived in this world long enough to recognize when something in the air shifts. When danger moves before it speaks.
“Don’t overthink it,” he adds. “Go in. Enjoy your rest and relaxation. I’ll be right out here.”
I stay exactly where I am.
“Valerio,” I say quietly, “over the years we’ve grown to be friends, correct?”
He nods once.
“And as friends, we don’t lie to each other. So you would tell me if something was going on… right?”
Another nod.
“So,” I shift my weight, holding his gaze, “is there something I should know?”
