Page 79 of Wicked Rivals

Then Enzo pulled his gaze back to me and smiled.

“Okay, Mama. See you later.”

As he headed upstairs, the oven’s timer went off, conveniently giving me a minute to gather my thoughts while I pulled out the cookie sheets, set them on the counter, slid the last two into the oven, and set a final timer for baking.

When I turned around, Stefano had started on a cookie while nailing me with a heated but otherwise unreadable stare.

“So when does she want us out?” I asked.

I supposed I could have danced around the subject and extended the fantasy I’d stupidly allowed myself to fall into over the last few hours, but that would just make the inevitable even more painful.

“When does who ‘want you out’ of where?”

Stefano took another bite of his cookie, his lips lifting into a slight smile as he chewed.

I’d forgotten these were his favorite.

Keeping my eyes focused on the motion of the dishcloth, I wiped down the back countertop.

“Your fiancée,” I said. “She’s beautiful.”

“Is she? I hadn’t noticed.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Um, yes, you have. Men like you always notice a beautiful woman.”

“I might notice when a woman is attractive, Valerie, but I haven't thought of another woman as beautiful in a decade.”

The smoothness of his words made my legs weaken and my heart flutter.

And I hated him for it.

I hated how easily he manipulated me into wanting him.

“Look,” I blurted. “I don’t know what kind of arrangement you and Benedetta have, and it's none of my business. But I need you to know I will never be your mistress or your whore or the woman on the side, whatever you want to call it. Benedetta deserves better than that, and so do I.”

The words tumbled out of my mouth in a heated, slurred mess, and I hoped he understood because I couldn't bear to look up and meet his eyes again.

I couldn't risk him seeing the lie in mine.

After snatching up a spatula, I moved cookies from a baking sheet to the cooling rack, focusing so intently on the task that I didn't hear Stefano come around the island. I didn’t realize he stood behind me until he put his hands on my waist and pulled me backward against his chest.

He smelled so good, the rich spice and woody notes in his cologne overlapping but not overpowering his own scent.

I wanted to turn and bury my face in the hollow of his throat and let him hold me. Instead, I didn’t respond at all, keeping my eyes on the cookies.

He slid his hands to my hips and spoke close to my ear.

“I need you to tell me about the men in your life.”

“Stefano,” I whispered. “That’s none of your business.”

It might have been convincing if I hadn't been so breathless.

I still couldn't hide how his touch affected me.

“I promise you, this isn’t about me being possessive, Val. I’m not jealous, and I won’t get mad. But I need to know about the different men in your life. All of them.”

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