The touch promises things I shouldn’t want but desperately do.
Conversation flows again. I contribute more ideas, sharper now, riding the adrenaline. Valentino supports every point, his voice carrying new weight.
The clients respond positively, nodding along. Dominic Calder watches us critically the entire time, his expression unreadable.
Halfway through the main course, Piper arrives in a rush of energy, carrying a sample centerpiece for her own event. She spots us and waves discreetly before stepping back into the lobby to wait. I excuse myself briefly to hand Nico over.
In the lobby, Dominic Calder stands near the entrance, reviewing something on his tablet. Piper approaches to collect Nico from me. Dominic looks up and his gaze lands on the floral arrangement she carries.
“Those look like a florist had a nervous breakdown,” he says coolly, voice dripping with disdain.
Piper straightens, eyes flashing. “And your personality could use emergency resuscitation. Perhaps a personality transplant while we are at it.”
They stare at each other for a long, charged beat, the air crackling with pure irritation and something sharper underneath. Piper’s cheeks flush. Dominic’s jaw tightens. Then both turn and walk away in opposite directions, furious.
I return to the table with my heart racing. Nico is safe with Piper now. The dinner continues. Valentino’s hand finds my knee under the table once, a brief, searing touch that leaves me breathless.
We don’t speak of the assumption Margaret made. The lie hangs there, binding us in ways I cannot yet untangle.
As dessert plates clear, Margaret Aurelius raises her glass. Her voice carries across the table with finality. “Valentino, Livia, and young Nico, I formally invite you to join us at the Hudson Valley estate for the full retreat. As a family unit, of course. We look forward to deepening this partnership.”
She smiles expectantly, sealing the invitation.
I sit frozen beside Valentino, the weight of the lie and the heat of his presence pressing down on me.
I'm in trouble.
Chapter Ten
VALENTINO
The morning after the Aurelius dinner, the city outside my office windows stretches gray and restless under a heavy sky. Rain streaks the glass in silent lines.
I stand at the far end of the room reviewing the overnight security reports, but my mind keeps circling back to last night.
The way Margaret Aurelius had smiled at us like we were the perfect family unit.
The way Livia’s hand had rested on my thigh under the table, warm and trembling with urgency. The press of her fingers. The heat that had surged through me at her silent plea.
I had not corrected the assumption.
Now the lie sits between us like a live wire, and I need to address it before it burns everything down. I texted Livia to meet me in my office at nine.
She arrives precisely on time, wearing a tailored navy dress that skims her hips and draws my eyes despite every effort to keep them professional. Her hair falls in loose waves over one shoulder.
She closes the door behind her with a soft click and faces me, chin lifted in that way I am beginning to recognize as defensive armor.
“Mr. Ferretti,” she says evenly.
“Valentino,” I correct. “Given the circumstances, formalities feel pointless.”
She crosses her arms. “Circumstances. You mean the part where your client believes we are engaged and that Nico is our son.”
The word “our” lands with unexpected weight. I gesture to the seating area near the windows. “Sit.”
She remains standing. “I prefer to stand.”
I lean against the edge of my desk and study her. “Margaret’s assumption changes things. The consortium values family stability. They see it as proof that I understand what their protection contracts truly safeguard. Backing out now risks the entire deal.”
