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“Of course.” She breaks a biscotto in two and offers me half. “I have no desire to step into my father’s shoes. What he does is not for me.”
I get that. What my father does is not for me either. But unlike Antonio, Dad doesn’t have someone at the ready to step in—at least not anymore. It still gives me chills to think about how close Worthington came to murdering him.
“Rafael’s the right person to take over Huntsman Industries and to assume the responsibility for the valley and the industry.” She doesn’t hesitate or equivocate. Not for a second. “He’s fair—unless it involves Marco. People like and trust him. He and my father have many similarities, but he’ll be a more modern leader. I’m confident he’ll do a great job—with all of it.”
Relief and a sense of hope courses through me as she talks about him with pride in her voice. She won’t stay mad at him forever.
“Once you feel he’s been sufficiently punished, you should tell him what you just told me. I think he worries that he’s lost you.”
The evidence against Marco might have been concocted, but it was damning. Yes, they behaved like jerks. But they were in an impossible situation. I’ve thought a lot about it since Rafael showed me the documents, and I’m not sure that I would have done anything so different.
“I love Rafael,” she admits, the words thick with emotion, “and the distance between us breaks my heart. I’m not punishing him. I’m fighting for my marriage.”
Something about her tone is wistful. And resigned. As though she can’t have both her family and Marco. Is this why she’s not going to Antonio’s birthday dinner?
“Are you not going to the party to teach your father a lesson?”
She glances up from her coffee and meets my eye. “I’m not like that.”
No. You’re not. “Is Marco?” I ask gently.
“Rafael and my father crossed a line. Think of how you would feel in his shoes,” she says defensively before taking a sip of coffee. “He needs time to move past how he was treated. And he needs to know that I choose him over all else. Our marriage depends on it,” she adds, almost in a whisper.
I’d like to wring Marco’s neck. She would go to her father’s party in a hot minute, but her husband is forcing her to choose sides. He’s punishing them, but he’s also punishing her in a way that cuts to the quick. To keep Valentina, who’s been through so much, away from her family is just plain mean.
My respect for Marco has decreased immeasurably in the last month. I’m starting to think he’s a manipulative little asshole. But until she says otherwise, he’s her manipulative little asshole.
“What about you and Rafa?” she asks, studying me. “I know what you said in your email, but I heard there was a big blowup.”
As I try to come up with something to tell her, it occurs to me that Rafael wanted me to choose him over Valentina—who is like my family. It’s not much different from what Marco wants. I sigh heavily. “It was ugly, but inevitable. In some ways better to have happened sooner rather than later.”
“I don’t understand. I assumed you patched things up and that’s why you came back.”
I cradle the paper cup between my palms. “I never made it to London. My father’s organization had a major shake-up. My mother was moved to a safe location. It made sense for me to stay in Porto for a bit longer.”
It’s not a lie, just a watered-down version of the truth. When I began tracing the traffickers’ movements, I wanted to talk through my suspicions with someone. Normally that would have been Valentina. But I didn’t want her involved in anything related to them, and I still don’t.
Her dark brows draw together. “I’m glad you’re here, but that doesn’t sound good. Are you worried about your parents?”
“A little. But my father’s on top of it. They’ve identified the traitor, which is huge, and contained most of the fallout. They just need to mop up any issues that might still arise. In the meantime, Rafael’s letting me help Tamar with some research so that I don’t die of boredom.”
“Launch stuff? We certainly can use all the help we can get.”
There’s no way I’m telling her a thing about what we’re doing.
I smile. “I think you have that launch well under control, girlfriend.”
She beams at me but then her face twists with sadness, and she takes my hand. “I know how much you liked him, and I’m so sorry that I ruined things for you.” She squeezes my fingers. “I really am.”
She didn’t ruin anything—at least not in the way she thinks. Rafael wants to try again. I’m the one with cold feet.
“Sorry enough to lend me those red sandals and maybe an outfit to go with them?”
She snorts so hard that coffee spurts out her nose, and we laugh until tears stream down our cheeks. For a short while, we’re the two girls who shared everything. Not a single secret between us. Or the teenagers who pinkie-swore we’d never let a guy come between us—but we’ve let two.
While the damage to our relationship, so far, has been minimal, the little lies, half-truths, and omissions will eventually take a toll. They’ll pile up and create a heart-wrenching barrier between Valentina and me, or even a rift. I feel it in my bones.
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