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Valentino rolled his eyes. “You played Cupid with our chef and head maid?”
“They’d been flirting for so long.” I placed a peck on his cheek as he carried me through the hallways and came to the kitchen, “just like you didMr. Masquerade.”
Placing my bottom on the kitchen island, he took a step back and brought his hand to his chin. His eyes trailed up and down my body with a devilish, crooked grin. “That reminds me.”
I groaned. “I know.” I hopped off the island and walked to the refrigerator. Opening the door, I searched the drawers and shelves, grabbing ingredients to make sandwiches.
Leaning against the cabinets, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you sure you’re okay about it?”
“You had that party every year before you met me, right?” I lifted a shoulder as I pulled a knife from the block on the countertop. “So, what’s the difference now?” I spun toward the counter, set the knife down, and removed the lettuce from the plastic wrapper.
Slowly, he strutted over, gripping my hips, and turning me to face him. With a shy smile, I wrapped my arms around his neck. He sighed, knowing this was quite a delicate topic for me. After all, the masquerade was how we met.
I understood what he did before me. It never made me see him differently. It was a part of his world. They did not force those women to be there. Had they been, I would have run away from him a long time ago.
After getting to know Valentino and seeing how insane the public could be about him and his friends, I also understood why he felt the need to meet women discreetly in a setting that was safe for all of them. Some of his friends were married and took their wives as dates. They were only there to enjoy the food, music, and to donate money to the selected charities chosen by Valentino and three of his friends.
Being engaged to him brought on many challenges for us. The media was always interested in what we were doing and trying to sneak to find out our wedding details. It was a constant battle to keep our lives secluded. Apart from me, his need to remain private was the most important thing in his life.
Furthermore, I knew why he chose the same event as a way to continue to protect me closely with zero suspicion about his motive. I peered into his eyes, nodding. “You know I’m okay about it.”
He cocked his head. “Are you sure? You know I would never want you to feel uncomfortable. I have no problem telling my friends to host it without me this year. William will have Tanya there, and you know Giovanni’s in a weird place right now since—”
“Valentino.” I placed my palms on his chest, sliding his tie between my fingers. “Yes, I swear I’m okay about it. Turning away, I began to slice tomatoes. “I understand the need for others’ privacy too.”
Resting his palms on the countertop next to me, he leaned his head toward me, trying to meet my gaze again. “You know I am not wanting—”
“Val, yes I know.” Giggling, I put the knife down and pointed at him. “Plus, this time, you have a date, and not buying one.”
Just as his smile returned, and he pressed his lips to my cheek, his phone rang. Reaching over, he grabbed a slice of turkey, popping it into his mouth as he lifted the phone to his ear. Playfully, I shooed him away before continuing building picture perfect sandwiches.
Yes?I answered the phone as I stepped out of the room, into the wide hallway.
Mr. Greco. Everything is set for your fiancée’s birthday party on Friday. Jillian, the event planner, cheerfully announced.
Thank you. I appreciate it.
My pleasure, Mr. Greco. You made great selections.
Email over the final invoice and I will send the payment.
Sure thing. I’ll do that now.
Thank you.
Without a goodbye, I hung up just as Joseph swiftly marched up, appearing rather bothered.
I pursed my lips, knowing he was about to deliver unwelcome news. “I thought I told you to take the rest of the day off.”
“I think you should take my advice and hire a publicist.”
“And why the hell would I need one? I speak when I want the public to know something. I don’t need anyone to speak for me.”
“Funny you ask why you’d need one, sir. Please, follow me.”
He led me back into the kitchen and sauntered to the breakfast nook. “Alexa, turn on the kitchen display.”
Isabelle was standing in front of the open refrigerator and spun around the moment we entered the room. “Joseph, would you or Noah like a sandwich?”
