“Safety?” I repeated the word slowly, carefully weighing it. “And you think going back to rules we’ve already broken twice—hours after we made them—is actually safe, Valentina?”
She looked away, clearly uncomfortable with my bluntness.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense.” She forced herself to meet my eyes again. “Last night was… it was a slip. A relapse. That’s all.”
A low laugh dragged out of my throat.
I shifted in bed, hovering over her, holding my weight on my forearms pressed into the mattress.
I brushed my mouth along her jawline, the tip of my nose at her neck, then kissed her lips lightly. Valentina squirmed under me, a soft moan slipping out.
“Mistake. Relapse,” I repeated, reminding her of her words. “That’s all.” I pulled back until our eyes met again. “It wasn’t any of that, Valentina. And it definitely wasn’t ‘just’ anything.” My voice turned firmer. “We have never been ‘just’ something. We were always everything. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”
She inhaled, controlling her frustration.
I lay back down beside her, but I kept us close—close enough that my body could still feel hers. I slid my hand into the curve of her neck, my thumb stroking her cheek.
“You can keep saying it as many times as you want, but we both know it’s not true.” My tone stayed calm, rational, steady. “You don’t want safety—not really. What you want is to protect yourself from what you feel for me. Because admitting it would mean admitting that maybe… you want exactly what you keep saying you don’t.”
Her eyes widened with surprise and indignation—yet beneath it, I caught a flash of recognition she couldn’t hide.
“You can’t just decide what I want!” she snapped defensively.
“I’m not deciding anything,” I replied evenly. “I’m observing the facts.” My voice didn’t rise, but it sharpened with certainty. “You want rules because you think they mean control. But what you’re doing is torturing yourself.”
“Torturing us.”
“It’s not torture, Enrico. It’s self-preservation,” she insisted, chin lifting with stubborn pride.
I pulled her closer, sliding an arm beneath her, holding her there while my eyes stayed fixed on hers.
“Self-preservation isn’t pretending what exists between us can be erased with rules and artificial limits.” My voice stayed quiet, relentless. “You can try to convince yourself of that, but last night proved the opposite.”
“And it’ll keep proving it every time we get too close.”
She opened her mouth to protest—then closed it, silenced by the obvious truth.
Her eyes flicked to my mouth before returning to mine, betraying her.
“You’re right to distrust me, Valentina,” I said quietly, honest now. “You’re right to still feel hurt and afraid with me.” I held her gaze. “I know what I did. That’s why I’m not wasting time with promises. I’m not saying anything I can’t back up.”
She stayed still, breathing hard, fighting the closeness I kept on purpose.
“What I’m going to do,” I continued, firm and unwavering, “is show you. Day after day. Action after action.” My chest tightened as truth settled in. “I’m going to earn you back. Piece by piece. I’m going to win back your respect, your trust, your admiration—and when you’re ready, your love.”
“But I’m done asking permission,” I warned her. “I can’t do that anymore.”
She swallowed, her gaze stuck on mine, shaken by the raw sincerity.
“I can’t stop you from trying,” she whispered, voice trembling, “but I can’t promise anything. What happened last night was physical, Enrico. Just physical.”
I smiled—not arrogantly. Just with absolute clarity.
“You can say that as many times as you want, Valentina, but we both know it’s not true.” My voice lowered. “Your body doesn’t lie. It never lied to me.” I brushed my thumb over her cheek. “You want me. And not only physically. And it’s okay if you’re not ready to admit it yet.”
“I can wait.”
Her lips pressed tight. She looked away, breath speeding up.
