I breathe in. Hold it.
This close, my body reacts with a small shiver, and I fucking hate it.
Valentino Ferretti is nothing like that passionate lover who whispered“patience, tesoro”into my ears. This man is arrogant, cold, and treats love like a variable to minimize.
But I can't forget that damn tattoo. It's a brand on my mind. My skin remembers every single touch, every press of skin on skin.
I release my breath. “I'm sor–”
“Find a way around it by next week. I need your body, mind and soul in this.” The emphasis on body, mind and soul doesn't land innocently in my mind.
He leans down so his face is level with mine. Wood and spice from his cologne mixes with the air coming into my lungs.
God, this smell. I resist the urge to whimper from all the memories it triggers.
His gaze drops to my mouth for half a second, barely long enough to register, before returning to my eyes. “Aurelius isn't a file you can do at fifty…not even seventy percent. Do you understand me, Livia?”
I swallow, pulse kicking up as I nod. “Yes,” I squeak.
He watches me for a moment, then nods, as if satisfied with whatever he sees on my face. Then, he straightens.
“Good.” He turns and leaves.
Only then do I realize I've been holding my breath.
“Liv, you better get yourself together,” I mutter to myself, getting back to work.
I start shutting down my station at five forty-five. I take the revised profiles. I'll read them on the train. I'll read them at the kitchen table after Vito's in bed, in the small quiet of eleven o'clock with the lamp on and my cold tea beside me.
I will not be at seventy percent.
I will not give him reason to doubt it.
I say goodnight to Priya, who is still working. She raises a hand without looking up. I respect that.
At the elevator I press the button and wait.
I don't look back.
But I know, the way you know before you turn around, that he's watching from somewhere across the floor.
The elevator doors open.
I step in and give myself just until the doors close to banish all thoughts of his face so close to mine, his eyes on my lips, that dizzying scent of him.
The door closes, and I wait for the magic to happen.
I count to five.
One. Two…Then his eyes flash, almost physically, in my mind once more.
I nearly burst out laughing.
Chapter Six
VALENTINO
I stand at the far end of the operations floor the next morning with a coffee that has gone cold in my hand.
