Page 243 of Valentino

“Those things you talk about, the strippers, the women and the coke…those are Carlo things, Anna. Not Ferrara things and most definitely not me things.”

“Please.” I roll my eyes.

“I haven’t stepped foot in a brothel in years; I have zero interest in strip clubs,” he spits. “I don’t even remember the last time I partied on blow, and the never-ending line of women you talk about…I’ve been there, done that. I can’t even get over the fucking line without intervention. It is the very last thing that I want in my life.” He throws up his hands. “Why the hell would I ever want another woman if I had you waiting for me at home?”

I stare at him across the table. “And what about the getting yourself killed part?”

His tongue darts out and rolls over his bottom lip. “I could….”

“What?”

“I could minimize risks.”

“How?”

“I’d stop going out on the field.” He thinks out loud and gives a shrug. “I’d be more careful, work from the office.”

“Prison?”

“I’m not going to prison, Anna.”

“You might.”

“Trust me, I’m not. If I go to prison so will the entire Italian police force.” He takes my hand in his. “I know it’s not the life you planned.” He kisses my fingertips. “But it’s my life and I want you in it.”

I think for a moment. “What does me in your life look like?”

“You will move home to Milan and in with me. I will buy us a house, somewhere you pick.”

My eyes hold his. “And my job?”

“Your current one?”

“Yes.”

“Would be a logistical nightmare, I would prefer it if you didn’t go away without me.”

“Val, it’s my whole job.”

“And my whole point.”

“What does that mean?”

“Anna, if you agree to this, you know that you will need a guard with you at all times, and you know that you will live in a protected environment. There is nothing I can do to change that.”

“I don’t want that life though, Val. This is the whole problem,” I whisper. “I want you to leave Ferrara. We could…” I shrug as I think out loud, “…move away, start again in another country,” I whisper. “You could run your own business, we could do it together.”

He squeezes my hand in his. “I can’t leave Italy. My father.”

“We could take him with us.” I smile hopefully. “He can come.”

“Anna.” He sighs, his face is solemn. “I made a lifelong oath to Ferrara, and I’m not letting them down. I won’t leave them.”

“You’d rather leave me instead?”

“If you cared for me…you’d want me to be happy,” he murmurs.

“And if you cared for me, you’d want me to be free.”