Page 62 of Seduced By the Enemy

His entire familyhad spent more than a year watching Raf go off the rails, after the breakdown of his marriage and long term relationship. Salvatore’s cousin had been to hell and back, and he’d gone from the mild-mannered, confident guy they all knew to a train wreck.

At least, that’s what Salvatore had thought, until his own life exploded and he found himself on the same path as Raf—except, with a vengeance. As soon as Emilia had left after that god awful fight, he’d texted Leandro with the news that they’d broken up. It had felt important to put it into writing and have at least someone know the truth, but even more so, he’d needed to believe Emilia wouldn’t be alone. He’d needed to think someone in her family would reach out to her, look after her when Salvatore couldn’t.

As soon as the text was sent, he started to drink. And drink. And drink. He stayed in his apartment, until all the good liquor was gone, and then he simply ordered more in. He didn’t work. He didn’t look at his phone. He simply wandered around, then slept, then drank. On repeat, for days. After about a week, he started to pull her stuff out of their room. At first, he’d thrown it all onto the sofa and stared at it. A messy pile of Emilia, to bedealt with. He’d drunk then, too, and put on some metal music at full volume, so the whole penthouse seemed to reverberate.

When he was drunk, he thought about calling her. Texting her. It was only through an amazing act of willpower that he didn’t. Sometimes, he’d wake up and reach for his phone, heart racing, because he’d dreamed that he’d weakened and sent her a message. And he knew that would be a mistake. It would just set them back. Even when the thing he wanted most was to tell her he still loved her. It was a particularly unfair byproduct of their circumstance that he couldn’t at least give her that.

But it just would have made it harder to have the clean break they needed.

After three weeks, he text messaged Leandro again, in one of those drunk, weak moments: How is she?

He didn’t hear back until the next day. She’s great. Happy to be home.

Salvatore’s gut had rolled with that. Had there been a part of him that had hoped she’d shun her family, as he continued to shun his? How stupid, when the whole reason he’d broken up with her had been to see her reunite with her parents and brothers.

After receiving Leandro’s text though, Salvatore messaged his assistant and had the jet prepared. He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him sooner, but there was no need to stay here, in Manhattan, where memories of Emilia were everywhere.

17

IF HE HADN’T BEEN SO drunk, he wouldn’t have answered Dante’s call. But his thought process was lagging a fair way behind his brain, so he swiped the call to answer without thinking, so his brother’s voice came down the line before Salvatore could remember that he’d sworn he would have nothing to do with the family that had refused to see the value in Emilia.

His Emilia. His perfect, beautiful, kind Emilia. Just because she was a Valentino.

“Salvatore.” Dante’s voice was as familiar as his own.

Salvatore reached for his scotch, cradling it in his hand. He’d bought a mansion in Singapore, deep in the rainforest, and his view from the floor to ceiling windows was of a densely rainforest covered mountain with a dark storm cloud brewing overhead. “What?”

Dante sighed. “I’d ask how you are but that one word tells me everything I want to know.”

He grunted.

“I thought you’d want to know that Marco and Portia have had a baby.”

He took a step back, shocked by how much that hurt. By how much he missed them in that moment—despite his anger. This was not an event he would usually have missed.

“I know they’d like you to be here.”

He grunted again, closing his eyes. ‘Here’ was London, where Marco and Portia spent most of their time. If Emilia wasn’t welcome, then he wouldn’t go. Never mind that she was no longer a part of his life. That she was doing ‘great’, while he felt utterly torn to shreds.

“Tell them congratulations from me.”

“You’re not coming?”

“No.”

“Salvatore, listen?—,”

He waited, eyes closed, so he saw Emilia and his whole body reacted as though a storm was incoming. He threw back the rest of his scotch then walked unsteadily towards the kitchen.

He wasn’t an idiot. He was aware he was being seriously stupid to drink the way he was. To be ignoring the concept of food. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was anesthetizing himself however he could.

“Yes?” he heard the slur in his voice and ignored it.

“Mum and dad never wanted this. You’re a part of our family, and you know what that means to them. Surely Emilia Valentino will understand and let you see your family.”

He bristled at that. “Emilia would never ask me not to see you.”

“Then why are you staying away?”

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