Chapter 11 Boundaries and Bruises
Killian’s POV
It’s been a long, torturous month since Valentina moved into our room at the clubhouse. Every night, I lie next to her-her warm body pressed against mine, the scent of her hair filling the dark-and do absolutely nothing. My balls are a lost cause. But she needs time to heal, and every time she tries to take things further than just holding each other, I shut it down. Lately, she’s quieter, retreating into herself, spending evenings alone in our room while everyone else hangs out.
I know she’s missing her dad. Gia too. I caught Gia crying in the kitchen a couple weeks ago, muttering something about onions, but there wasn’t a vegetable in sight.
Blaise brings in five new club girls and suddenly everything’s tense. There’s one-Bianca-always looking for trouble. Every night after dinner, she makes her move, sliding her arms around my waist, pressing up against my chest, her red curls bouncing as she leans in close, her top threatening to surrender. I try to shrug her off, keep it polite, but I’m close to losing my patience.
Tonight, I finally ask Valentina, “Babe, can you get me another beer?”
“Sure,” she says, glancing over at the club girls’ table. I see the way Bianca watches her go.
Valentina’s barely out of sight before Bianca slides right onto my lap. I put my hands on her waist to move her, but she pulls me in, planting a kiss on my mouth-sloppy, uninvited, loud enough to set off a round of hoots and catcalls from the brothers. I jerk away, stand up, and Bianca tumbles to the floor in a huff, storming off to laughter. I wipe my mouth-lipstick smeared everywhere.
A half hour later, I realize Valentina still hasn’t come back. I head to our room and find her asleep, tear tracks shining on her cheeks, pain pill bottle open beside her. She’s out for the night. I undress and slip into bed, wrapping myself around her, holding her until I drift off.
When I wake, she’s still sleeping. I shower, dress, and leave quietly. An hour later, she shuffles out, looking wrecked. I spot her as I’m talking to Blaise about Sterling-about what’s left of him. Valentina’s misery is written all over her face.
Tonight, I have something planned for her. My Luna Fiera-the nickname the brothers gave her, the one she laughed at and said she liked.
I find her in the kitchen with Gia, both of them rattling off rapid-fire Italian as Valentina shreds potatoes for hash browns. She’s smiling, a sound I haven’t heard in days. I step behind her, press a kiss to her head. She stiffens. Gia catches it, her smile dropping.
“Hey, Killian,” Gia says flatly.
“Hey, Gia. I heard Slate made it official. Congrats.”
She nods, but there’s something bitter in her eyes. “Funny-you tell me, Papa, and Valentina that she’s your old lady, but it seems like you haven’t bothered telling anyone else.”
“Giuliana, drop it,” Valentina warns.
“What are you talking about? People know.”
“Do they? Because last night, didn’t look that way.”
)11:00
Uck,
arop
Valentina leaves. I turn to Gia, who turns her back on me, focused on scrambling eggs.
“What was that about?” I ask, forcing calm.
“Nothing.”
“Let me rephrase: what the fuck was that about?”
She slams the spatula down, cuts the flame under the pan. “Fine. Imagine being in love with someone, hearing him declare you’re his old lady, and then nothing. She hasn’t told you she loves you because she’s scared-her last guy said it all the time, then beat the shit out of her, cheated, broke her down. Now, she’s trying to get close to you, and every time, you shut her out.”
“She needs to heal. Her ribs are cracked. She had a fucking concussion. She was raped, Giuliana. I’m not touching her until she’s ready!” My frustration boils over.
“So why didn’t you say that to her? Why just block her, every time she reaches for you? She thinks- because Sterling raped her-you don’t want her anymore. That you regret saying she’s your old lady. And then, after all that, she walks in and sees some girl in your lap, kissing you, in front of everyone.”
“She kissed me. I didn’t kiss her.”
Gia’s eyes harden. “Killian, we saw you. We came out of the kitchen and you were kissing her. Valentina went straight to your room. I nearly put a bullet in you myself.”
“I stood up. Made her get off me.”
“That’s not what we saw. We saw the club’s enforcer with another woman on his lap, the room cheering him on. Then Valentina spends the night alone, wakes up to find you gone, no idea where you slept.”
I grind my jaw. “I slept with her. She took a pain pill, passed out. I was right there till morning.”
Gia just shakes her head, turns away. I realize too late how much I’ve let Valentina down, how my silence and good intentions have hurt her far more than anything I could have said.
“Who actually knows Valentina’s your old lady?” Gia asks, arms crossed, challenging me.
“Blaise does,” I answer. “He gave me a pass on the two-week separation. He knew Valentina needed me close-needed help healing.”
She shakes her head, wry. “You know, that whole trial nearly broke me. I had no idea what was going on. I thought Slate moved on after I told him I loved him. You guys need a new test-one person isn’t ‘people,’ Killian.”
I let out a breath, steeling myself. “I’ll talk to Valentina. But first-I want to show you something. Think she’ll like this?”
I unbutton my shirt, exposing the ink above my heart: Property of Vandal.
Gia’s face lights up. “She’ll love it.”
“Wait, there’s more.” I pop my jeans open, reveal the tattoo just above my cock: Caterina’s.
She laughs, shaking her head, but I catch the shimmer of tears. “Yes. God, she’s going to go crazy for
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that one.
“One more.” I hold out my left hand, show her my ring finger-Valentina, inked in delicate script, wrapped around the digit like a permanent band.
Gia’s voice goes soft. “Killian… she’ll love them all. But that one-her name as your ring? That’s everything.”
I grin, buttoning up. “I wanted her to know I love every part of her. No doubts. No room for second- guessing.”
She gives me a playful shove. “So, where’s the Luna Fiera ink going?”
I pause, thinking, then flex my fists. “Across my lower knuckles-with hearts on my thumbs. She’ll see it every time I touch her.”
Gia’s eyes shine. “You really do love her, huh?”
“I fucking do,” I say, voice thick with certainty. “Now, I’m gonna go find my girl and show her just how
much.”
And with that, I head off to claim what’s mine-with her name written over my skin and my heart beating only for her.
Valentina’s POV
Tears streak down my cheeks as I ride across town in the back of a silent Uber, face pressed to the cold glass. Two weeks of feeling invisible, rejected-maybe it’s the bruises, the swollen nose, the lips still healing and cracked. Maybe it’s me. Each mile I put between myself and the clubhouse, my
confidence shrinks another size.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but the memories flood in: that moment with the new club girl, the way she looked at me, the way I felt-shattered, discarded, less than nothing.
The driver glances at me in the mirror. “Ma’am, you okay? You want me to call someone for you? Are you safe?”
I open my eyes, meet his worried gaze. “Yeah. My ex beat me up, but I’m safe now.”
He nods, voice steady. “Well, I’m glad he’s your ex.”
We pull up to my apartment. I thank him and get out, realizing too late-I left my keys and phone back at the clubhouse. In my hurry to leave, to get away before Killian could see me fall apart, I forgot everything but the urge to escape. I cross the lot, tears still burning, and find the building manager, Lois. She’s kind enough to let me in.
The apartment smells like dust and old pain, the air heavy. There’s a huge, dark stain on the carpet-a reminder of how things ended here. I start gathering what’s left of my life. I fill two totes: one with underthings, shoes, purses, stacks of dresses, jeans, hoodies, t-shirts, crop tops, sweaters. I slide my blades-hidden for years between mattress and bed frame-into the pile. The second tote gets hair stuff, makeup, a blanket my Nona crocheted, and jewelry that belonged to my mother. Gia and I split the pieces that meant the most. I don’t bother with photos. The memories are enough, and they hurt.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, staring at the mess, the emptiness. How am I supposed to get these
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heavy totes across the city? My phone’s at the clubhouse, but I know Gia’s number by heart. I drag the totes to the manager’s office and ask Lois if I can use her phone. She hands it over, patient and silent, but Gia doesn’t answer. Lois sees the defeat in my face and calls me an Uber herself.
I sigh, uncertain, clutching the blanket in my lap. I don’t know what to do about Killian, about love, about any of it. Why does being in love have to hurt so much?
