She bends over the large, round soaking tub and turns off the water. Then she steps onto the one step and lowers herself in before turning to me. “Come, Franco, come soak with me.”
I step into the tub and sit opposite her as she reaches over and lights a candle.
“Would you like to talk about your scars?”
I shake my head.
She smiles sadly and looks down. “Our children?”
I feel my chest squeeze and look away.
“Right. We should start out by getting to know one another again.”
I look back at her, not saying a fucking word.
“I’ll start.”
I want to tell her no, that coming here was a mistake. It was. I never intended on seeing her. I never intended on feeling like a thousand years have passed. Yet, at the same time, it feels like not even a minute has gone by.
“I run a business,” she begins. “I needed something to keep me busy while I was pregnant. When Mel—”
“Sabato’s wife?” I interrupt.
She looks at me with amusement in her eyes at my obvious jealousy.
“My friend, yes. Our children attend the same school.”
I look away.
When water is splashed in my face, I look back and she smiles.
My thoughts escape me. “How is it you look no different than you always have after all these years?”
She blushes. “I keep active.”
I nod.
“Clearly, you have, as well.”
“Yes, that one hour a day of rec time was great for my physique.”
She smiles. “Well, it appears so.”
She leans back and the water once covering her breast ripples. They enamor me.
“You like?”
I look up at her eyes. “Why did you pierce them?”
“Well …” She shakes her head. “Through therapy, I learned that we do things to take control when we feel mostly out of control.”
“You have a therapist?”
She scowls slightly. “I did for eight months.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of life, Franco.”
“I see,” I say, stretching my neck.
She sits forward, grabs a loofa, turns around, and pulls her hair to the side. “Do you mind?” With that, she hands me the loofa and leans forward. “The body wash is to your left.”
I look at her back, not moving.
“So, I did therapy, which was all right, I guess.” She looks back at me. “I have to tell you something.”
“Yes?”
“It was court-ordered.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
She looks at me as if she’s taken aback. “I had an order of protection filed against me.”
“So, it was me.” I close my eyes and shake my head.
“Well then, yes, it was you,” she says.
I set the loofa down and begin to stand.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t do this.”
“If you think you’re leaving because I said it was you, then let me explain.” She grips my knee hard. “And I’ll explain while you wash my back.”
Not wanting a fight, I do as she asks. I squirt body soap onto the loofa then begin rubbing her back.
“As you know, I was never in control of my emotions. I let them lead me instead of me leading them.”
Understatement of a lifetime, I think to myself.
“In therapy, I did what was required, but I learned that my emotions ran me. I learned that I do things, like shop, to exert some control. From being around my family, I learned that I didn’t always have to shop, or go to clubs, or be entertained when they surrounded me. I watched them and learned from them. I watched Dominic and saw him soar, building the life we missed as children. I figured out I needed more in my life.” She turns and looks at me. “A career.”
I nod.
She continues, “I considered going back to university, but I was pregnant and not feeling well. I started getting depressed because I realized I had accomplished nothing that would make our children smile at me, be proud of me like my cousin’s children did them.”
She leans forward and sighs as I wash lower. “I had a very dark day when Aunt Joe came over and offered me a job. Typical me, I let my emotions push me and told her I wouldn’t accept a job because I had no qualifications, and I would rather stay in my apartment and rot than do something I hated or wasn’t good at.
“She assured me I was good at many things, none of which were true. I pushed her away and, over the next few days, wouldn’t answer my phone or messages. I slept and cried. Dominic came and forced me to go back to Italy.”
“You were in Italy?”
“We go every holiday,” she tells me.
I feel sick to my stomach, considering all the men who want my head on a platter and grateful they have left her alone.
“While shopping and walking through the vineyards, I took pictures and posted them as I always did. Thousands of people liked, commented, and sent messages telling me they were glad I was back.
“Aunt Joe flew to Italy a few days later and sat down with me. She showed me that, although I may not see what I’m good at, she did, and so did thousands of my fans.” She looks back and laughs. “Fans of what? I asked her. She told me, my lifestyle.”
“People are always gonna want what you have, Valentina.”
“Well, I guess, but it’s become a business, and it keeps me busy.”
She rubs her hands up and down my thighs, and my cock stiffens more. It never went completely soft, even after filling her mouth with my cum.
“You get paid to post pictures?”
She laughs. “Something like that.” She leans back against me and lets out a breath. “I’ve been busy trying to be a good mom, a business woman, and keeping busy because, when I’m not, I miss you terribly.”
“Do you have friends, Valentina?”
“Yes, I have Laney, Nikki, Mel, and Paige. We talk and send messages, things I suppose I missed as a teenager. Once a month, we do a night out without kids.”
“I’m proud of you.”
She looks up at me, showing every damn emotion she says she tries to hide. Secretly, I hope that, as strong as she has become, she allows others to see what it is she fought so hard to hide.
She turns her body and grabs my cock, stroking it slowly up and down.
I close my eyes, and she stops.
“You must be tired.”
I nod.
She stands and steps to the side. “Move forward.”
Capitolo Sei
Valentina
When I had asked him if he wanted to talk about his scars he told me no, so I rambled. Oh God, how I rambled.
Sitting behind him as he rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward, I start to wash his back, trying so hard to hide all the emotions I have hidden since seeing him in the bathroom lighting. It pains me not to ask, but I can’t push too hard.
When I finish, I press a kiss to his back, which startles him.
“Were you asleep?” I ask as he stands quickly.
“Haven’t slept in nine years,” he answers, stepping out of the tub and grabbing a towel. He turns and hands it to me, and I notice his eyes are red and unfocused, as if he were in fact asleep. I also notice he is no longer hard.
I wrap the towel around my body as he grabs another and wipes his off, walking into the bedroom.
I follow him out and watch as he bends down to grab his pants.
I take his hand. “Sleep here.”