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“Wait, do you think he’s gotten to all my old doctors?” I think about my pediatrician, an octogenarian who was hell-bent on dying in his office. I want him to fulfill his wishes, but I suspect death by Valentino isn’t what he had in mind.
“He probably didn’t think about it, but if you put it out there, he might look into your medical history.”
“Tácito!” I try again to impart why Valentino’s course of action imperils everything. “Don’t you understand how dangerous this is? Suppose he gets caught? What will that do to our family? Oh my God.” I gasp as another thought whirls in my head. “I’m going to have to help him, aren’t I? I mean, if I want to make sure he cleans up after himself and doesn’t leave a trail leading back to him, I’ll have to have his six. We can’t let him get—”
“Just change your doctor.”
“But Dr. Ortega is so good. He listens! And he’s actually gentle with the thingy when my feet are in the stirrups.”
“Exactly what kind of doctor are we talking about?”
“My OBGYN.”
“Yeah, está muerto. Call him to say your goodbyes. You’ll have to change, anyway. Valentino won’t let him live.”
“But maybe if you talk to him, you could convince him otherwise.”
“I’ll give you a list of doctors to consider.”
“Don’t you practice that do no harm thing?”
“Your OBGYN isn’t my patient. And if I’m being honest, I’m not mad at Valentino. Not. One. Bit.”
During our conversation I must have missed the signs of Tácito turning dark. On the video screen, he exudes a subtle savagery I’m only used to seeing from Valentino.
“But you’re supposed to be the good guy.”
“Even good guys have their limits.”
A shiver runs down my spine. This Tácito is new to me, but deep down I know he still won’t hurt me. My doctors are another story.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Valentino
Papers litter my desk in my home office. Budgets, bids, proposals, and more duties that have taken the time I want to spend with my family. Coming home after everyone is asleep most days had to stop. Since the job is never ending, I’ve designated two days a week where I take it home. It’s not ideal, but while I plug away at finding solutions to Douglas’ problems, I have Sloane and Tácito near.
I glance to the corner. A smile tugs at my lips at the sight. Tácito rests his head on Sloane’s lap, relaying his day while she combs her fingers through his hair. Although they quietly sign on the couch in the corner, their presence is all I need to motivate me to work faster.
The happiness in their relaxed faces fills my heart. Yesterday’s confrontation with Sloane whispers in my ear. I’m glad she knows. Not that she will get the chance to add people to my list. Tácito and I can more than satisfy all her needs.
As she signs something I can’t see clearly from my position, Tácito takes her hand. First, he kisses her palm. Then he sucks a finger into his mouth. My groin tightens. Will they torture me in a bid to lure me from my work by fucking in front of me?
When they play one on one, the murderous possessiveness that comes over me at the thought of a stranger taking liberties with my Sloane never appears. For years, I’ve thought it was because of my deep friendship with Tácito that has protected him from me. I’m sure our closeness and dependency on each other is a huge factor, but as I watch them kissing and loving each other, I know there’s more and it doesn’t center around Sloane.
I can’t describe the feeling, but whenever I think of my life without Tácito, my chest tightens. When I moved and thought my life was ending, Tácito’s voice on the other end of the phone saved my sanity and my life. College with him beside me, helped buffer and reverse some of the effects of having Giulio dictating my every move. I shake my head to clear it. Reminiscences have a tendency to turn me morose. My present and future…nothing but champagne and celebrations. At the end of the day, if Tácito has never questioned our connection, I won’t either.
I return to my work with a periodic glance to see Tácito and Sloane’s progress. They have too many clothes on for me to join in yet.
“Sir, you can’t go in there!” Someone on my staff yells before the office door is thrown open and Giulio strides inside.
I shoot to a standing position over my desk and Tácito rises to block Sloane from view..
“Before you call your dogs, I’m here to make peace.” Giulio stalks inside like he owns my home. His footsteps falter when he glances at Tácito and Sloane’s movements. “What the hell are you allowing to happen under your roof?”
Tácito’s untucked and unbuttoned shirt exposing his chest makes things pretty clear. As does his attempt to shield Sloane, whose breasts are exposed and beautifully swollen, from view. While hiding behind Tácito, she pulls her top on.
“You said something about making peace?” I resume my seat and wipe the seething rage inside me from my face. “Don’t look at them,” I bark when Giulio doesn’t stop staring at my wife and best friend.
