Valentino could have his life back, and he could have it with his wife.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Henry and Eloisa are at the gate asking to be let in,” Dario announced. “Do you want to allow it, Valentino?”
Emmanuelle spun around, glaring at her husband. She opened her mouth to snap at Dario, who was safe in the control room, but Val laid his palm over her mouth, one arm locked just under her breasts, holding her back to his chest.
“Sure. I’ll handle them, Dario.” He kissed the side of Emme’s neck, blazing a trail of fire all the way to her ear, where he tugged with his teeth on her earlobe. “You’re such a little spitfire, woman.” There was amusement in his voice.
It was impossible to resist him when he was like this, and Emmanuelle didn’t bother to try. She turned in his arms and linked her hands behind the nape of his neck, leaning her body against his. “Why would you want to allow Eloisa into our world?”
“I think it’s time I make it perfectly clear she isn’t the one running your life anymore.” He sank his teeth into her bottom lip and then her chin.
Her heart accelerated. He made her weak so easily. She liked it though. Before, she was always terrified of losing herself in him. Now she found strength in loving him. In being a part of him. “Who is running my life now?”
“Me. It’s always going to be me.” He kissed her, pouring the familiar fire down her throat. “Go ahead and protest, but it won’t change a damn thing. It’s still going to be me.”
“You tell yourself that, Valentino Saldi.”
His laughter was warm against her skin when he kissed his way down her throat to the tops of her breasts, spilling out above her tank top. Before, if her mother was anywhere within a hundred miles of her, Emmanuelle would have never worn anything showing cleavage. Now, when she was with Val, she preferred to wear clothes that showed off her curves.
“I do tell myself that. And I tell you. I figure if I tell you often enough, you’ll listen.”
He pushed down her tank top and the lacy bra that didn’t do much more than showcase her breasts for him. His hot mouth latched on, and she cried out, throwing her head back as heat rushed through her veins. His fingers stroked relentlessly at her other nipple, not hard, just gentle brushes that threatened to undo her because all of a sudden she needed so much more.
Dario’s voice came over the intercom. “Pulling up to the door now. Whatever you two are doing, you’d better stop and pull it together.”
Emmanuelle cradled Valentino’s head to her, fingers in his thick hair, hating to give him up. Her hips rocked against his thigh. “If I were wearing panties right now, Val, they’d be soaking wet for you,” she whispered when he lifted his head.
He groaned and pushed his forehead against hers. “That’s not very nice, Princess.”
She tugged up the hem of her long, flowy skirt, inch by inch, prolonging his agony, baring her thigh slowly. Taking his hand, she pulled his palm to her bare mound and then curled a finger into her wet heat.
“That’s all for you, honey.” She pulled his hand away from her body, let her skirt drop and brought his fingers to her mouth, deliberately curling her tongue around them. “Too bad we don’t have the time. If you’d wanted to talk to Eloisa, we could have met her somewhere else, not in our private home.”
She hated the idea of her mother setting foot in her house. Eloisa would turn up her nose at everything. Nothing would be good enough for her—especially Emmanuelle’s choice of husbands. She would find a way to try to cheapen what they had together and make Emme feel small and ugly, a traitor to her family. She would be horrible to Valentino.
“I can meet alone with them outside on the patio.”
“She’d really like that.” Emmanuelle stuck her chin in the air. “I refuse to allow her to intimidate me. I just don’t want her in our home.” Her mother had managed to ruin everything Emme had ever loved.
“We’ll ask Lando to bring them around to the courtyard. They don’t have to come inside,” Valentino said. Before she could reply, he was already issuing the orders to Dario and then holding out his hand to her. When she tried to tidy her hair, he caught her wrist and pulled her hand down. “Leave it, baby. You look so damn sexy. This is our life, not hers. Fuck her if she doesn’t approve. We’re not asking for her approval. She came to see us, not the other way around. You sit close to me and keep your hand in mine. You want to end the charade, you dig your nails into my palm, and they’re gone. Just know, if I don’t like anything she says to you, she’ll hear about it.”