Page 162 of The Mafia King's Reign
"What?"
"To myfuckingsurprise," she continues, leaning back against the counter, "he didn't tell me to drop the case."
"What did he say?"
Her expression shifts, something heavier settling into her features.
"He told me to make sure I didn't put you in harm's way again."
I see the guilt flash across her face, quick and painful, and suddenly we're both back in that moment. Her looking at my bruised face on the video call, with tears streaming down her face, apologizing over and over for something that was never her fault.
"I hate what happened to you, Valentina," she says quietly. "I hate that I—"
"Don't," I cut her off, stepping closer. "Lin, I wouldn't have taken that chance if it were anyone else. You told me not to go alone. That was on me. Not you."
Her face crumples slightly.
Mine probably does too. “That shit was fucking nuts, Lin. Like… a really bad movie.”
“I can see that. You’ve always been a terrible actress,” she says dryly.
I huff out a laugh. “Okay, fair. But at least I’m not worse than you, right?”
She smirks. “Oh, I won’t argue with that.”
And then we're both laughing and crying at the same time, the tension breaking in the only way it can between best friends who've been through too much to keep pretending they're fine.
"I missed you," I say through the tears.
She shakes her head, wiping under her eyes with the heel of her hand. "God, this is insane."
"Tell me about it."
She looks down at the envelope again, her expression sobering.
"So," I ask her quietly, "what do you think? Take the money and run?"
I let out a slow breath, leaning against the counter beside her.
"I don't know."
She studies me for a long moment, her sharp lawyer's gaze seeing far more than I'm comfortable with.
Then she shakes her head.
"I can't tell you what to do, Val. You already know what you want."
My chest tightens.
"Do I?"
"Yeah," she says softly. "You do. You just don't want to admit it yet."
She reaches over and squeezes my hand.
"You don't need my permission, or anyone else's, to love who you want to love."
"But I'm afraid," I admit, the confession tearing out of me before I can stop it. "I'm afraid of who I'd become. Of what loving him means."
