Page 60 of I Would Beg For You

Valentino frowns as he stares at me with narrowed eyes. Did he feel the sudden change in the air? The moment I came to the realization what we have is a fantasy just short of a fallacy, and we can’t sustain it?

Yet, nobody’s promised forever. What if we took what we got? Stolen moments they may be, but they’re ours.

“We can,” he says quietly.

His words break the tenuous thread struggling to find purchase between us, at the same time it binds a cord of hope in the space. Ill-fated, surely. Still, it’s hope.

A glance out the window shows how dark the night is. It’s late, and we can’t stay here forever.

“I have to go home,” I mumble.

Valentino nods. “Me, too.”

We reach for each other at the same time, falling into a tight embrace as our lips seek the other’s and we kiss like it’s our last time together.

As I pull away, I’m reluctant to leave his arms. My hand trails to his cheek, which I clasp in my palm.

I don’t know why it feels like this is the last time I will see Valentino Andretti…

Not if I can help it, though. He’s my anchor, my rock, my safe spot. I’ll find a way back to him, always.

I drop a final, chaste kiss on his lips then turn to Anya.

“Let’s go,” I tell her.

I don’t look at Valentino again as I leave. He doesn’t call me back, either.

What that means, I have no idea. I refuse to contemplate more as a tear slips down my cheek in the elevator taking us back down to the real world.

Chapter 20 Valentino

Carlito picks me upfrom Tribeca, and I’m silent throughout the trip back home.

Something’s got me rankled, and I can’t put my finger on it. It’s not the way Naomi and I left each other in the apartment. It did strike me as odd, the way she clung to me then pulled back and cradled my cheek. She’s always been on the sensitive side, though, and her world just got upended again with Declan Reeves making his appearance like that, when none of us expected any of it.

It seemed like it was the last time she was kissing me… I don’t know where the thought came from, yet there it was. Then the soft kiss she pressed to my lips before she left—something’s amiss, and it’s driving me crazy not knowing what.

I enter the house and shed my coat, making my way to the study where I get a glass of whisky and down it in one gulp. What the fuck wasn’t I figuring out?

My phone rings. I throw the screen a glance and pick up when I see who’s calling.

“Anya,” I greet.

“Good. You’re home,” she rattles off. “Expect a video call in the next five minutes.”

I sigh. “I don’t do your bidding.”

“You know he wants to talk to you.”

“How did you even know I’m home?” Was she, or her employer, tracking me or something?

“It’s been an hour and a half since you left Tribeca.”

She didn’t saydumbassat the end of that sentence, but I heard it, nevertheless.

“Fine,” I breathe out.

“Good. Five minutes.” She cuts the call then.

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