Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Valentina. She’s… ah…” A sigh finalizes my reply. I’m a fucking soft cock admitting this after only a week, but I’m snowed under. Gone. I won’t ever move past this, so if Valentina takes after her mother and turns down a Caruso, I’ll have to get inventive.
None of my plans will involve her leaving the country while carrying another man’s baby.
“Those are the exact words I spoke to your grandfather when he asked me about your mother.” My smile reaches only half its ability, but it’s still the biggest he’s given in months. “Does she know about Valeria?” Before I can speak, a light bulb switches on in his head. “Valentina was at the gathering last week. Valeria said she was your surrogate.”
My jaw clenches. I want to tell him Valeria is a liar, but until the baby is born, no one will know the truth. Although I hope the test comes back positive and we discover that the child is mine and Valentina’s, there’s a niggle that’s screaming this was too easy.
The game is meant to be harder than this.
The utmost certainty in my father’s tone could cut diamonds. “You’re worried.”
“Fucking terrified,” I admit. “If it’s not Valentina’s—”
“There’s a possibility the child is Valentina’s?” My father shouts his words loud enough to wake the house.
My nod sends him sprawling back, and in this very moment, I realize Valeria didn’t tell him everything. She told him only what would favor her.
That ends now.
I tell my father everything. The chase, the capture, the hiccup at the IVF clinic. I leave no stone unturned.
He processes the deluge with the shrewdness that comes from years of experience before asking, “The clinic?”
“Ashes.”
I burned it to the ground seconds after securing an unconscious Valentina in my SUV.
Papa hums in approval. “The staff?”
I look at him—really look at him. Dr. Di Petro was his friend, but I couldn’t let a mistake like this go unpunished. Our family would be a mockery if I had.
“Very well,” he says after a brief pause for contemplation. He places his hand over mine, frail but steady. “Invite Valentina and her mother to the compound.”
I balk, taken aback. “For what?”
“Dinner,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. “I’d like to officially meet the woman who’s brought out a side of you I never thought I’d see.” His lips curve teasingly. “And to be reintroduced to the woman who clearly raised her right.”
Since there isn’t an ounce of dishonesty in his words, I nod. Concetta influences Valentina’s life in a way most people will never understand. I respect it because I get it. I have a similar bond with my father. He imparted all his knowledge to me, and his guidance continues to empower me as I age.
“I’ll arrange it.”
He nods, pleased, and then settles back in his bed, his eyes briefly closing.
“I’ll let you rest.”
His reply is muffled by a yawn. “I’m not tired. I’m just resting my eyes.”
He feels my smug grin more than he sees it when I press my lips to his temple. His skin isn’t as clammy as it usually is, but it prompts me to remind the doctor that he didn’t finish his vitals.
I’m halfway to the door when he calls my name.
I pause at the threshold, then turn around.
“Don’t worry.” His tone carries more than reassurance. It’s also factual. “Blood doesn’t make you family. Being a biological parent isn’t any higher than stepping up to the plate and taking responsibility for someone who doesn’t share your blood. If Valentina’s heart holds one ounce of the camaraderie her mother’s does, her beliefs will align with mine. I truly believe that.” His words are both painful and soothing.
With my throat too dry to speak, I nod.
His eyes once again drift shut as he murmurs, “Love isn’t about blood. It’s about choice.”
Love?
I’ve spent my entire life scoffing at the idea of being tied down to one person forever. I also discredited my father’s claim that he knew my mother was “it” after seeing her only once. I called his notion that he “knew” foolish. A game, and a sign of weakness.
Now I understand because that’s what my obsession with Valentina is leading toward. That’s what she is to me. She’s my weakness. My biggest challenge. But if I’m willing to put in the hard years, she could also be my everything.
What I feel for her isn’t solely an obsession fueled by lust.
It’s the foundation of a love story that will rival my parents’.
Love is a risk. It means Valentina could walk away, and I’d have to let her even if it kills me. Loving her isn’t about owning her. It’s about ensuring her happiness is prioritized before anyone else’s—even my own. She must come first.
Although the thought should terrify me, no amount of caution tapers my smirk.
Valentina Raimondi is mine.