Page 23 of Valentino

It doesn’t work.

I already watched her tongue slip out to wet her lips back at the curb. It was only a second, but now I’m hard in a way that makes me dizzy.

I think about her mouth. About what that tongue would do to me. I hate myself for it, because I’ve got no right to any of these thoughts.

I tell myself to stop, but my body doesn’t listen.

"You never answered me," she says. Her voice is light, but there’s an edge to it. "Why are you driving me to my hotel? You have your own work, Conti. Whatever it is."

I have no answer.

None I can say out loud.

So I say nothing.

The truth is, I can’t stand it.

Elio is here to protect her now, and months ago, he had his hands on her like she was his to touch.

I don’t care that it ended. I care that it happened, and that he’s still close enough to want what he already had. If she crooked one finger, he’d forget the job. Forget Vittoria. Forget every rule that put him ten steps behind her instead of beside her.

Protection be damned.

I want to put my fist through his face for it.

"How long?" I say.

She turns her head. "What?"

"You and Mancini." My jaw is tight, but the words come out flat. "How long were you fucking him?"

For a moment, she just looks at me. Then she laughs. "Wow. Okay. That is absolutely none of your business."

I stop the car.

It wasn't planned, but my foot just comes down on the brake hard enough that her seatbelt locks across her chest. She gasps, one hand flying to the dash. The engine idles. Her breath comes fast with fear. Real fear. That should make me let go.

It does not.

I reach over and catch her chin between my fingers, tilting her face up to mine. Her skin is soft, warmer than I expect, and I feel the small tremble that runs through her.

"How long," I say again. Lower this time. Closer.

Her eyes search my face.

Something in my expression must convince her I mean it.

"Months," she says, and the laugh vanishes into a whisper. "We were... it was months. But it’s over. It’s been over a long time."

Months.

My grip tightens on the wheel.

Months of him touching her. Seeing her. Knowing what she sounds like when she⁠—

Fuck.

"Do you want him back?" I ask.