I stand up and block his way. “It’s not Martina.”
“Who is it then?”
Cazzo.
“Give me a moment,” I bite out. “I have a guest staying with me.”
Without giving Nelo a chance to ask me more questions, I scale the stairs and duck into Valentina’s room.
She’s standing by the bed, her breakfast tray broken at her feet. She’s wearing Martina’s clothes-a pair of spandex shorts and a white T-shirt. Her eyes shoot up to me. “It slipped off the bed.”
I lock the door behind me. “Listen to me. Nelo and Vito are here sniffing around. The don sent them. You’re going to come downstairs with me. You don’t know anything about who I really am, got it? You’re only an employee who’s sleeping with me.”
Her lips part in shock. “The guy I stabbed is here?”
I pick up one of my sister’s sweaters off the floor and toss it to her. “Put this on. Yes. Did you hear what I said?”
“We’re sleeping with each other, I got it. Why do I have to go down there?”
“Because they heard the crash.” I grab her by the elbows. “We don’t have time for explanations. Just follow my lead.”
She nods, and we exit the room.
Nelo is waiting at the foot of the steps, just where I left him, and the stunned surprise on his face when he sees Valentina with me is unmissable.
“You.” The word is an accusation.
“Me,” Valentina responds.
When he won’t move to let us pass, I give him an annoyed look. “You were so curious to know who was in my room, I thought I’d show you.”
A prominent vein appears in his neck. “Vito, you know who this is?”
“Who?” his brother calls out from where he’s still sitting on the couch.
“The bottle-service girl who stabbed me,” he says. “Apparently, she’s also Damiano’s new girl.” His expression darkens even as he steps aside.
“Let me see her,” Vito says, coming up to us. “Ah, what a beauty. No wonder you seem so impatient to get rid of us, cugino,” he says. “I would be too if I had her in my bed.”
Valentina keeps her head high as Vito rakes his gaze over her. An urge to cut his eyes out solidifies in my stomach. I step between them.
For a moment, everyone is silent. Then Vito makes a loud sniff. “The spezzatino smells like it’s ready.” He tips his head at Vale. “Why don’t we go check on it.”
“Let’s all go,” Nelo says, his gaze flicking between Valentina and I. “I’d like to get to know Damiano’s new flame a little better. Our previous two meetings were cut short, wouldn’t you say?”
Valentina stays quiet, but when Vito starts making his way to the kitchen, I nudge her to follow. I don’t want either of them out of my sight.
The three of us take our seats on the wooden stools around the kitchen island while Valentina makes her way to the pot.
I do not like how Nelo is looking at her. It’s clear he’s far from getting over his embarrassing injury, and men like him deal with embarrassment in one way.
Violence.
“Ale, was it?” he asks the back of Vale’s head.
“Yes,” she says without turning around. She takes a wooden spoon the cook left on the counter and mixes the stew with it.
He directs his next question to me. “Is she living with you?”
I know what he’s trying to get at. He wants to know if Vale is important to me, which means I have to show him she’s anything but that.
“She stayed the night.”
“You don’t bring many women back here, do you? You must really like this one.”
“Just because you can’t convince any women to go back with you to your place, doesn’t mean others have that problem.”
Vito snickers a laugh but shuts up quickly when Nelo glares at him.
Vale opens a bunch of cupboards before finding the one that contains the bowls. She takes out four and starts pouring the stew inside of them with a ladle.
“You’re quieter than before,” Nelo notes. His gaze dips to her ass, and it makes me want to strangle him. “Was Damiano’s lovemaking so depressing?”
Her shoulders square. She turns around and brings the first bowl to me.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
Nelo’s face turns red. “You’re ignoring me.”
I send Vale a cautious look. There’s no worse insult to a man with an ego like Nelo’s than being ignored.
She serves the next bowl to Vito. “Be careful, it’s very hot.”
“Sure,” he says.
A vein in Nelo’s temple twitches as he watches Valentina go back to the stove. I hope he’s decided to stay quiet to save himself from further humiliation, but I know that’s wishful thinking.
When she comes over to him, the tension in the room reaches a fever pitch. The bowl lands on the wooden island with a soft clank. She places a spoon beside it.
Nelo peers down at the stew and hums loudly. “It looks juicy. Just like your fat ass, bella,” he says as he places his hand on Vale’s behind and squeezes it.
Hard.
Hard enough to make her flinch.
Hard enough to make her gasp in pain.