Page 32 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

The smell of coffee lures me to the kitchen, where he stands at the counter, his back to me while he pours two mugs. He turns, offering one to me with a raised eyebrow.

“Thank you.” I accept the steaming cup. Our fingers brush, and I jerk back, nearly spilling the coffee.

Valerian’s lips quirk in amusement. “Careful. It’s hot.”

I take a sip, using the mug to hide my flushed cheeks. The rich flavor momentarily distracts me from the tension in the room.I’m not exactly a coffee aficionado, but I can appreciate there is something smooth and luxurious about this brand that my cheaper usual can’t emulate.

“Valerian, I...” I set down the mug, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I want to apologize for my outburst yesterday. It was unprofessional and uncalled for.”

He leans against the counter, studying me over the rim of his own mug. “No need to apologize. Your reaction was understandable, given the circumstances.”

I fidget with the hem of my blouse. “Still, I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. It won’t happen again.”

He sets down his mug with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Are you sure? Because I rather enjoyed how our ‘argument’ ended.”

Heat rushes to my face. “Stop,” I say, my voice sharper than intended. “I don’t want to hear about or talk about that kiss. It was an impulsive mistake.”

“If you say so.” He pushes off the counter, moving closer. “I agree we shouldn’t discuss it further.”

Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived. He pauses at the kitchen doorway, turning back with a cocky smirk that sends my pulse racing.

“You might not want to talk about it, Claire,” he says, his voice low and intimate, “But I guarantee you won’t be able to stop thinking about it. I know I haven’t.”

My mouth goes dry. “What do you mean?”

Valerian’s eyes darken. “I mean that when I stroked my cock in the shower last night, I imagined it was you kissing me. Kissing…and doing a lot more.”

The mug slips from my suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering on the counter. Coffee splashes across the pristine surface, but I barely notice.

“That’s completely inappropriate,” I sputter, my face burning.

Valerian’s smirk widens. “Perhaps, but it’s the truth.”

Before I can formulate a response, he’s gone, leaving me alone with my turbulent thoughts and a spreading puddle of coffee.

I grab a dish towel, mopping up the spill with more force than necessary. How dare he say something so crude? So blatantly sexual? My hands shake as I wring out the towel, anger and something else, something I refuse to name, coursing through me.

As my initial outrage fades, I’m forced to confront an uncomfortable truth. My anger stems more from Valerian’s effect on me than from genuine offense at his words.

I sink into a chair, burying my face in my hands. The memory of our kiss floods back, along with the unbidden image of Valerian in the shower, water cascading over his muscular form as he grasps his cock. I already know he’s packing serious equipment from the times I’ve caught glimpses in the massage room, so it’s easy enough to picture his shaft, long, thick, and throbbing?—

“Stop it,” I mutter, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes until I see stars. “This is insane.”

But is it? The traitorous voice in my head whispers,“You’re attracted to him. Admit it.”

I groan, dropping my hands to the table. Fine. I’m attracted to Valerian. Physically, at least. It’s hard not to be, with his chiseled features, hard body, and amazing eyes. That doesn’t change anything. He’s still a dangerous man, a criminal who’s holding me here against my will.

Except... is he? The thought catches me off guard. I came here willingly to protect my family. Valerian’s never physically restrained me or threatened me. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to ensure my comfort and safety.

I stand abruptly, needing to move. Pacing the kitchen, I try to sort through my jumbled emotions. The circumstances of my being here are far from ideal, but I can’t deny he’s has treated me with respect. More than that, he’s shown genuine interest in me as a person.

I absently trace the cool marble of the countertop while remembering our conversations about various things, both important and mundane, usually while I’m massaging him…

The truth I’ve been avoiding crashes over me like a wave. My anger, my constant irritation with Valerian, isn’t just about the situation I’m in. It’s about the way he makes me feel. The way my body responds to his presence, the spark of connection I can’t deny, even though I’m desperate to do so.

“This is a mess,” I say to the empty kitchen.

I’ve spent so much energy fighting my attraction to Valerian that I’ve ignored the real issue. I’m not just physically drawn to him. I’m starting to care about him. To see beyond the dangerous veneer to the complex man underneath.

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