Page 243 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

“Yes,” she said. Her heart was thudding so hard in her chest she could barely hear her own voice. “Yes, I—I can meet.”

He washere! He’d come.

And need was, once again, clawing at her insides, just in response to the sound of his voice.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

IT WASN’T EASY, or grand, or beautiful or dramatic—it was none of the things that’d had his imagination in a choke hold since he’d heard her voice. As he walked through the door into the dim coolness of the near-empty restaurant, Valentina stood. He tucked his hands deep inside his pockets and slowed his walk so he could better take her in.

She was a little thinner in the face. She wore a sundress the color of buttermilk that glowed against the rich brown of her skin, and she was wringing her hands. She didn’t say a word. And when he reached her and peered down into her face, when he saw the expression there and the way her pulse hammered in her throat, not to mention her eyes, and how they—

She crossed her arms. She was wary. Watchful.

“What are you doing here, Desmond?” she asked.

He’d thought he was ready for this question; ready to articulate what was in his heart. He’d practiced on the plane, for goodness’ sake. But when she looked at him, all he managed to get out was, “I wanted to see how you were.”

Disbelief crossed her face. “I’m fine.”

“Have you…found a place? Are you settled here? Are you—?”

“Desmond,” she cut in tightly. “I’m touched that you came all this way to check on me, but I don’t think it’s good for either of us to—”

Damn, he was handling this badly!

“Fine, I lied. I’m not here to check on you. I needed to explain why I did what I did. I didn’t have the words then, but now—” He stopped and collected himself.

Valentina was staring at him. Her arms were still crossed protectively across her front, but at least the anger had left her face.

It was time. If he couldn’t speak now then he never would. She was worth it. He began to speak quietly, so quietly and hesitantly that he barely recognized his own voice.

“I’m not good enough for you,” he said.

Something in her face shifted, something subtle.

“I don’t know if I can…be with you without hurting you,” he continued. “There’s just so much that’s messed up about me, Valentina. I don’t know if I have the strength to work past it, or be what anyone needs. I know I don’t deserve you. And you—”

“You always do this.” Valentina shook her head, her face sad. “My ex-husband criticized me because I was never good enough, and now you’re abandoning me because you thinkyou’renot good enough? You don’t get todecidethat, Desmond. Just like you shouldn’t have paid off my debt without telling me. You claim you’re doing things for my benefit, but you’re giving me no say. That’s notfair, Desmond.”

Her eyes had begun to glimmer.

“You’re such a good man, Desmond,” she said. “Malik wasn’t. But you do actually have something in common.”

He stiffened, and she smiled a little.

“You’re incredibly proud people. It just manifests differently. And love, love works because it kills pride, every day. It means you’re naked to each other, every single time. You have to be brave enough to be vulnerable, and you can’t do that.” She chewed her lip for a moment and then looked intently up into his face. “You denied us the possibilities we could have had.”

Desmond clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. Those soft-spoken words pierced him more effectively than the slimmest needle; he could feel them burrowing beneath his skin, threatening to break it open. And it must have shown on his face because she reached out and placed a hand on his chest.

“You’ve told me everything about yourself except what’s in here,” she said, and his insides contracted so painfully he had to turn his head away for a long moment.

“Desmond?”

Run!his senses commanded. And he could have; it would have been so easy. He’d get back on his jet and run for his life—the life he’d carefully curated for himself. But instead, he set his jaw and stayed.

Things had to change at some point. It had to be now or he’d lose this magnificent woman for good. So he’d do this, even though he felt physically ill, and his chest was tightening painfully.

“I wanted to protect you,” he said after a long moment.

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