Page 47 of Valentino

"Safe," he says.

"That's not a place."

One corner of his mouth moves. "It's the only one that matters right now. You need to lie down," he says.

"I just got up."

"You got up too soon." He sets the glass on the table, takes it from my hands so smoothly I don't even feel them empty. Then his arm is around my back, broad and certain, turning me toward the hallway. "More water later. Sleep now."

"I don't want to sleep." It comes out smaller than I mean it to. The truth underneath—I don't want to be alone in my own head, I don't want to close my eyes and see the lamps and the hands again—stays buried.

"I know," he says.

He puts his hand against my back, guiding me back toward the room, and I let him. Because right now? He’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Amanda

The chair scrapes the floor as Valentino drags it close to the bed. I pull the blanket higher, like a shield from the memories.

"I know you're not ready," he says. "But we don't have much time."

"That's reassuring." I try to joke but it comes out rough, raw, and shaky. "Nothing makes a girl feel safe like a deadline."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

His eyes show pity, already deciding I'm fragile, but he's too polite to say so. I am so tired of people deciding things about me.

"Why are we here, Valentino?" My voice comes out smaller than I want it to. "And don't say safe. You've used up your allotted safes for the week. Where is here? Whose house is this? Why does Elio keep looking at me like I'm a vase he dropped?"

He doesn't blink. "I need to know what happened first."

"That's not how conversations work. That's not even how negotiations work, and you people negotiate for a living."

"Amanda."

Just my name, but he says it softly enough that I stop.

Damn him.

Because I know what he’s asking for. Not the argument. Not the sharp little pieces I keep throwing at him so he has to deal with those instead.

The truth.

"Okay." I press my palms flat against the blanket. "Okay. Just give me a second. It's not in order.”

"It doesn't have to be in order."

I nod.

The words don't come all at once. I have to drag them out piece by piece.

"I went to the powder room." The marble gleamed under soft lighting. Gold taps caught the light. In the mirror, my reflection looked expensive and completely fine. "You gave me six minutes. I was being a brat about it." A laugh catches in my throat.

"And then Francesca. She said there was someone I needed to meet. Someone important."

"You went with her."