Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Her words are like a cold glass of water has been thrown on my face. The harsh reality of the two of us being apart isn’t something I’m prepared to face yet. If ever.
As she sits on the edge of the bed to put on her shoes, I kneel down and take them out of her hands. “You aren’t going to New York, and I’m not going to Rome.”
“As nice as this little vacation has not been,” she gives me a smirk, “it does need to come to an end.”
I don’t respond, but instead sit beside her on the bed, lower her shirt off her shoulder so I can inspect her wound that is still covered in a bandage. The good news is I don’t see any fresh blood seeping through caused by all her moving around. I don’t want to tell her this, but Z had told me this morning that Valentina got the Z green light to get moving again. He didn’t feel she was in any danger of infection or opening the wound again. But I’m still not so sure. Frankly, after the fear I went through watching Valentina almost die, I’m not sure I’ll ever feel like she’s good to go.
“And I’m anxious to get back to work. I’m getting itchy for the thrill and the risk,” she confesses.
I chuckle. “You haven’t gotten enough thrill and risk lately?” I ask, covering up her shoulder again with her shirt. “Bullet wounds are just a day in the park?”
She shrugs. “Right of passage or something, right? I’m sure it won’t be my last bullet.”
“It sure as fuck will be. No way are you ever putting me through that again. If I have to wrap you in bubble wrap and bullet proof glass, I will.”
“It’s time,” she repeats softly, patting my thigh as she stands up. “Work is calling.”
I reach for her arm and pull her back down on the bed. “I disagree. We’re on hiatus.”
“You may be on hiatus, but I’m not. I have a life waiting and I can’t keep ignoring my responsibilities.”
“Yes, you have a life, and it’s damn time you start living it to the fullest. There is so much in this world you haven’t seen or explored.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll ask for a two-week vacation in my next hiring package so I can book a trip to Disneyland.”
Ignoring her snark, I say, “I was thinking we’d start in France, maybe Italy.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You and I have a lot of casing to do in Europe. I’ve been away long enough, and you have a lot to learn about how Europe is completely different than how we operate in the States.”
“I’m not following you—”
“We’re partners. We made a deal to work together—”
“For the gala that didn’t happen.” Her eyes are wide, and she’s leaning back away from me so she can examine my face better. “We agreed to work together on one job. That was the deal. Not partners forever.”
“You want to elevate to the next level, and I think you’re ready. You and me as a team can truly be unstoppable. It’s time we start working together rather than against each other. Being partners takes a level of trust that I didn’t think possible to have with anyone. But if you taking a bullet for me doesn’t prove the highest level of trust, I don’t know what does.”
“Who says I trust you?” She smirks.
“You do. I know it.”
“Cocky much?”
“Always,” I reply, loving that the sass is back in Valentina fully. It’s clear she is truly fully recovered.
“So, you are wanting us to travel? To Italy? France?” she asks.
“I don’t want to dive in without doing the time and research. You and I need to truly immerse ourselves in the art scene first. We need to be present but not make any hasty moves. It’s going to take patience as we observe and plan.”
“But what about your father? He wants you in Rome to work the family business,” she says, though I notice she isn’t saying no to my proposal.
“This is my family business. This is who I am to the core. This is what makes me tick, just as it does you. There’s a reason you’re climbing the walls in this hotel room. You don’t like being in a cage, just as I don’t.”
“But what about your father?”
“I don’t care,” I admit. “I’ve been living in his shadow and trying to earn his love my entire life. But it’s time I follow the path I want.” I reach for her hand and squeeze. “I see a long road for us.”
“As partners?”
I nod. “Is that what you want? Can you see yourself working with me as your partner?”
She’s quiet for several moments, and though I want to say something—anything— to fill the silence in the room, I’m giving her the time she needs to process her answer. “Yes,” she finally says. “I’d like that. But there are a lot of logistics I need to handle in New York first.”