I think about the way he looks at me.
"Yeah," I whisper. "I'm safe."
It's not entirely a lie.
"Okay," Lindsay says finally, though she doesn't sound convinced. "But if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me immediately. I don't care what time it is."
"I will. I love you."
"Love you too. And Val?"
"Yeah?"
"Whatever you're dealing with... you don't have to deal with it alone. Remember that."
"I know."
We disconnect, but I sit there for a long moment, phone pressed to my ears, throat tight with unshed tears.
Then I stand and look at the red dress hanging on the chaise.
My phone buzzes with a new text from my mother:
Mom: Hold onto your power.
* * *
Dinner is served on the terrace overlooking the gardens, candles flickering in the warm night air. The food is exquisite. I barely taste it.
I sit alone at the table, robe tied loosely, posture perfect. Not submissive, nor defiant, controlled. If he's watching, I won't give him tears. I won't give him fear. I will sit here confidently, eat my dinner, and hold onto whatever power I have left.
I lift my wine glass and just as the glass touches my bottom lip, my phone buzzes.
SV:Turn around.
My pulse jumps but I don't move.
SV:Now, Valentina.
My fingers curl against the table. I turn and see him standing at the edge of the terrace, half in shadow, jacket gone, sleeves rolled, displaying the multiple tattoos that I find much more attractive than I should, that same predatory stillness coiled in his body like he's been there the entire time. Watching.
My breath catches.
"You're not supposed to be here." I cross my arms.
His gaze drags over me, slowly. "I'm exactly where I want to be."
I rise to my feet, heart hammering. "Well, you said you wouldn't be."
"I changed my mind. I brought you something."
He approaches unhurriedly, gaze never leaving mine until he reaches me.
He stops too close, his presence swallowing the air between us. His mouth curves, and then, he hands me a book.The Prince.
I don't take it right away. Our eyes lock instead, and my heart pounds. I don't look away. Neither does he. The moment lingers longer than it should.
Then I reach for the book. My fingers brush his. And he doesn't let go.
