Fuck.
I cross the hall to her room, each step measured, controlled. I knock on her door, not gentle, not patient. A command, not a request.
"Valentina."
"Go away, Salvatore." Her voice is muffled through the door, but I can hear the steel in it. The defiance that makes me want to break down this door and remind her exactly who the fuck she's talking to.
Every instinct I have screams at me to use my key or break the fucking door down. To walk in there, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her back to my bed, where she belongs. To strip her down and fuck the attitude right out of her until she remembers that she's mine.
But my father once told me,Never fuck with a woman when she's pissed off. You'll lose every time.
So I leave.
Matteo confirms everything with the severance packages is done.
Good. One less thing standing between me and Valentina's trust.
Then I call my assistant.
"Mr. Vitale. How can I help you?"
"I need you to arrange something for me."
"Of course. What do you need?"
"A car. Black Mercedes, fully loaded. Top of the line. Heated seats, the works. I want it delivered with a red bow on it."
"For you, sir?"
"For Valentina."
There's a pause. "I'll have it arranged immediately."
"And one more thing." I lean back in my chair, "Look into purchasing the downtown library. The one on Morrison Street."
"Sir, I don't think we can. That's a public library. It's funded by taxpayer dollars and owned by the city. You can't exactly buy it."
"Everything has a price." My voice goes hard. "Everything."
"Yes, sir." He clears his throat nervously. "But it's a public library. There are laws, and regulations.”
"I'm aware. Look into it anyway. If there's any angle, any loophole, any board member who needs convincing, or replacing, I want to know about it. Send whatever you find to Elio. He'll know what to do."
"Of course, sir."
"In the meantime, I want to know what it would take to get Valentina back on their staff. Full-time. Whatever position she wants. I don't care what it costs. Make it happen."
"Right away, sir."
I hang up and stare out the window at the city that spreads out below me like a kingdom, and all I can think about is one stubborn woman who won't come to my bed.
She said she wanted freedom. Wanted a car. Wanted to go back to work. Wanted control over her own life.
And I kept saying "after the wedding"
That ends now.
Because she doesn't think I love her. Not really. She thinks I'm playing a game. That I kept those women around as insurance, as backup plans in case she didn't work out. She thinks she's temporary, replaceable, just another warm body in my bed.
