Pain explodes on my cheek. Valentina slapped me. “You're an asshole. If you think you're going to get me off your back by getting me pregnant, you're so wrong. Because that is only going to be the beginning.” She inches closer to my face. “As for you doing your duty, you keep telling yourself that. A man who is doing his duty doesn’t care about the needs of his woman. He just chases his own pleasure. But you?” She looks me up and down, her jaw clenched. “You're making sure you make me come, and not just once, but twice and more. You're pretending to be something you're not, thinking it's better. Thinking you're hurting me, but guess what? I know what to expect from you.” Her finger pokes my chest. “You? You don’t know what to expect from me. You're afraid. You have built walls around you.”
“I’m not afraid. There are no walls,” I snap and fist my hands at my sides. “I’m just trying to be the husband in this charade, the alliance. For your family’s sake and mine.”
“You keep telling yourself that. But let me tell you something. If you think you're hurting me by behaving this way with me, you're wrong. You're only hurting yourself.” She stands and leaves.
I lean my head back on the couch and close my eyes. I know she's right. I know I need to get detached in order not to feel and get closer to her than I already am. Keeping space between us is a necessity. Keeping no feelings between us is a need, and it isn't up for discussion.
The thought of going after her pops into my mind, but I stop myself. She needs to know that this is what she's getting from me. Maybe then she will want me to stay away from her, which would give me a reason for keeping her at arm’s length.
I stand with the intention of taking a shower to cool my head. I pass Valentina, who is wrapped in a towel in front of her closet, and as soon as I’m in the bathroom, I step into the shower and turn the cold water on, letting it calm my skin.
It takes a while for the cold water cools down any thoughts I had of Valentina being right, and as soon as I feel like myself again, I exit the bathroom. Instead of seeing Valentina in our bed, I find it empty.
We have a routine; I come home, we eat together, and then we watch some crappy movie. If I’m late, she eats and waits for me. Both ways, I end up fucking her, and after, we both sleep in our bed.
Except tonight.
Never before has she questioned what and how I feel, or the way I have sex with her.
Maybe she’s had enough of me.
Has she? I dress quickly and talk myself into explaining to her that this is the best way our marriage will work, not to have any expectation of love, just respect and mutual agreement.
I enter the living room, and instead of finding Valentina watching another movie, I’m met with empty space.
“Valentina?” I call. “Valentina?” I enter every room she might be in. I open the door of my study and almost expect her to be there, but nothing. This is the last room in the penthouse. Wherethe hell is she? Panic rises inside me, and I search for my phone. I open it and dial Valentina’s number. It rings a few times and is then disconnected.
A message comes through.
Valentina:
Don’t call me. I need some time alone.
A tight knot settles in my chest as I type my response.
Gabriel:
Where are you? You can have time alone here. It’s not safe, and you know it.
I sent the bodyguards home. The building is secure enough, and though there is security at the front desk down in the building, I’m sure Valentina ditched him too.
I wait for her to answer, but nothing comes through. I hit call again, but it doesn’t ring. I look at my phone, which is trying to proceed with the call, but nothing happens.
Frustrated, I march into my office and open my security surveillance. I rewind it and watch as Valentina exits the penthouse and goes down to the garage. She hops on her bike and rides into the night.
I call her one more time, and the same again. Did she block me? I refuse to believe that, so I’m just telling myself that she doesn’t have a signal.
I dress quickly, and on my way to the garage, I call Marco.
“I thought you were going home to your wife?” Marco says.
“I did, and then she decided she needed space and left. I’ve been calling her, but I can’t reach her. I need you to track her.”
“Has she finally had enough of your crap?”
I ignore him. “I need an answer now, Marco.”
“I’m not a crystal ball; you rub me and I give you an answer. I need my programs and devices, which I don’t have, but I can be in the club’s office in a minute.”
