“I love it when you beg,” he murmured. “Love knowing I can make you feel like this… lost in my hands…”
Then his voice sharpened.
“Come for me now, Valentina.”
His thumb pressed perfectly against my swollen clit as his fingers sped up.
My body obeyed.
The orgasm ripped through me—violent, uncontrollable—my entire body convulsing as I screamed his name, breaking apart in his hands.
“Yes,” he groaned, approving, keeping his fingers inside me while I shook, savoring every pulse, every spasm, every second.
I was panting, trembling, clinging to him, my face buried against his neck as I fought to breathe and find even a hint of clarity.
Enrico pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, tasting me with a look of pure satisfaction.
Then his eyes found mine again—brighter, darker, more dangerous.
“Now,” he murmured with a promise-laced smile, “we go to the bedroom.”
He bent, one arm under my knees, the other behind my back, and lifted me easily into his arms.
He carried me out of the elevator and into what I knew—without a doubt—would become a massive regret in the morning.
But right then?
Right then, I didn’t care.
FIFTY-NINE
ENRICO FERRARA
I opened my eyes—then shut them again almost immediately.
The curtains were open, and morning light poured into the room, casting a soft glow over everything around me… including the woman sleeping peacefully at my side.
Valentina.
I watched her in silence for a few minutes, taking in every detail of the face I knew so well—yet somehow it looked even more beautiful now, more precious, after everything we’d lived through.
She looked relaxed. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing slow and steady, completely surrendered to deep sleep.
How had I ever been stupid enough to believe lies about her? How had I allowed anyone to convince me that Valentina could be less than what I had always known she was?
My wife.
My daughter’s mother.
And the only woman I had loved—and would love—for the rest of my life.
I reached out carefully and traced her cheek with my fingertips, caressing her warm, soft skin. She let out a quiet sigh and instinctively turned toward my touch, still half-asleep.
I smiled without meaning to.
That small, honest reaction did something to me.
I couldn’t keep waiting passively for a chance to win her back. I couldn’t keep relying on luck, patience, or the possibility of Valentina someday deciding—on her own—to forgive me completely.
