𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝒀𝑶𝑹𝑲—𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑰𝑻𝒀 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒖𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔, 𝒎𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒉𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒎𝒊𝒄 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒖𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄. The skyline loomed over us, steel and glass glittering like scattered jewels in the morning sun, but my focus was inward, lost somewhere between exhaustion and disbelief.
The private jet ride had been uneventful; I'd slept through most of it, a habit that had taken root over the last few months because of my pregnancy. Being five months pregnant wasn't just a physical weight—it was an anchor, tethering me to naps and the persistent ache in my lower back. As the car glided through Manhattan's arteries, I shifted in my seat, uncrossing my arms and stretching my legs across Valentino's lap.
He didn't mind. One hand rested possessively over my knees while the other scrolled through the tablet in his grasp. His golden eyes scanned the contents with laser focus, a faint crease forming between his brows as he digested whatever Michael had sent him. Despite his apparent ease, I felt the slight shift in his posture every time I moved, his fingers brushing over my leg as if to remind me to stay still.
In those fleeting moments of vulnerability, behind the carefully constructed walls of perfection, power, and poise, Valentino had let me see him—the real him. It was raw, unguarded, and achingly beautiful. The memory lingered like a warm ember, sparking something deep within me.
A faint blush crept up my cheeks as I thought about it, the teasing ache in my lower back serving as a vivid reminder of how the night had unraveled. The way we'd lost ourselves in each other, consumed by the heat of the moment, had left an imprint on me that I couldn't shake.
It wasn't just the intensity or the passion; it was the way he looked at me, as if I was the only thing that mattered. It was the quiet moments in between—the soft murmurs, the way his hands had trembled slightly against my skin, and the unspoken promise that hung in the air.
I tried to distract myself from the throb in my back and the surreal weight of everything. My eyes drifted to my hand, and there it was—the ring. Small but impossibly significant.
