"Oh, please, it's not like you don't have a key. Leave me alone… Sally."
He pauses.
"I don't want to use my key. I want you to let me in. Please?"
I wait another minute before getting up to open the door, then return to sit on the chaise in my room.
"Valentina." He closes the door behind him. "What happened out there?"
"Oh, nothing, just me and your employee making dinner plans."
He moves closer, studying me. "Don't lie to me."
"That's rich." I laugh. "Coming from you."
His jaw tightens. "What happened?"
"What happened with your housekeeper with the special schedule?"
Recognition flickers in his eyes.
"She was coming out of your bathroom when I got back from my room." I tilt my head, watching him. "Adjusting her uniform. Buttoning up her shirt. Wearing a very expensive bracelet that you apparently gave her."
"Baby, it's not what you think."
"Really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks exactly like what I think. And I think you've been fucking her and lying about being faithful, and last night… You said you loved me. Was that a lie, too? Wait, what am I saying? Of course it was a lie."
"Valentina, listen.”
"No."
I step closer, forcing him to meet the fury in my eyes.
"You listen. She left you a kiss, Salvatore. Lipstick on a towel folded into a swan in your bathroom."
"She was in there fixing her clothes," I continue, my voice dropping to something lethal. "Wearing jewelry you bought her. Acting like she owns a piece of you. She made it clear that she'd keep your bed warm long after I'm gone."
Something dark and possessive flares across his expression.
"Valentina, you're not leaving."
I stare at him in disbelief.
"That's what you're focusing on right now? Not the woman you've been screwing? Not the fact that she dared to stake a claim on you to my face?"
"I'm focusing," he growls, stepping into my space, "on making sure you understand that you're not going anywhere."
"Answer my question." I refuse to back down even as he towers over me. "What is she to you?"
"Nothing. She means nothing to me."
I wait for more.
"She was…”
I laugh, bitter and sharp. "She was."
The unfinished sentence hangs between us.
