Luciano’s back rested on the wall, as his gaze fixated on her.
Every inch of her face glowed even more magnificently under the scrutiny of his eyes.
The way her hair tumbled the length of her back, down her waist. The opened collar sleeveless shirt she was wearing, revealed the curve of her neck. Her stubborn eyes matched her equally jutted stubborn chin.
"MrLuciano?" He repeated her words, and chuckled.
"What’s so funny?" She eyed him with a scowl on her face.
Luciano shrugged his rather large shoulders, drawing Valentina’s attention to them.
Broad, and sturdy like the greek God of–
"It’s just very Arican of you to call Mr," he said.
"Oh–" she snapped out of her wandering thoughts. "Well I am Arican, so–"
The door opened, and an older maid walked into the room.
She didn’t say a word to anyone, nor did she make any eye contact.
Her aged experienced feet led her straight to the table where she dropped a paperbag.
As she turned to leave, she bowed to Luciano, and then walked out of the room.
Luciano waited for the door to close, before shifting his attention back to Valentina.
"Please sit," he said politely.
Valentina eyed him suspiciously. She didn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust.
Still, she found herself sitting down, no questions asked.
"I’m surprised you’re being very agreeable."
"As opposed to?" her lashes curled up, so she could see him clearly.
He held her gaze for a few seconds, and then nudged at the paper bag. "Look into the paper bag," he ordered, seeing how far he could stretch her obedience.
His forehead creased sharply as she reached into the paper bag without arguing, and pulled out a plastic bowl.
"What is this?" She said, her fingers already fishing through the top part, in search of an opening.
Luciano didn’t answer until she had successfully opened it.
Hot steaming fries revealed itself to her, causing her to sharply look up.
"I noticed you didn’t touch your food at breakfast. We usually eat more fancy food. But today is different. Today we went the traditional route. Your friend seed like she enjoyed it. Perhaps, because she’s a lot more cultured?"
Valentina’s eyes did not even twitch at the clear intent to provoke. She didn’t respond either.
Instead, she reached into the bag again, and pulled out sothing else.
Her eyes widened a little on seeing what it was. "Ice-cream?" Again, her gaze shifted to him.
"Yeah, ice-cream." He nodded.
"Nana would flip if she sees eating this for breakfast," she blurted.
Nana?
Luciano took a ntal note.
"I figured if your taste in food is anything like your taste in n, then you much prefer sweets," he said.
Her smile crooked, half-amused, half-puzzled. "What does that even an?"
He shrugged again, and didn’t say a word in response.
"You know what? I see what you’re trying to do." She bobbed her head.
"You do? Pray tell." He encouraged, tilting his head to the side.
Valentina took her ti to respond. First she opened the ice-cream, and took a scoop.
Her eyes closed briefly, as the taste exploded in her mouth.
Luciano’s breath quickened, as he watched her reaction to the ice-cream.
But he composed himself admirably, before she opened her eyes.
"This is your way of getting to confess to you, because you were not successful in getting whatever information you wanted from Natalia," she looked directly at him as she spoke.
Luciano’s expression following her theories was one of dry amusent. "No, that’s what you think I think."
"So you’re saying you have a different thought?"
"I’m saying, you can’t force a thought on . Eat up."
Valentina really smiled this ti. "You know what? I don’t care what your motives are. I was taught to always be grateful to every source of food. So thank you." She scooped another spoon into her mouth, and shuddered with excitent as its coolness slid down her throat.
"Can I ask a question?"
"Depends. Is your question just going to be you accusing falsely?" She lifted a brow.
"Nope, it’s more a customary question."
"Then shoot," she replied giddily.
The ice-cream had lifted her mood a lot. Maybe because it tasted so much better than whatever it was she was used to having back in the States.
Whatever the case was, she felt more relaxed in the presence of the gangster.
"Do you have any dical conditions we’re supposed to be aware of? Food allergies- things like that? I an we’re not sure yet how long you’ll have to stay."
Valentina’s breath caught in her throat as that question rolled out of his lips.
Even her hands, which were about to scoop so of the ice-cream into the spoon, froze for a few seconds.
"I do," she said.
"You do? What is it?"
"Soti ago, I was diagnosed by my doctor with an illness called hypersucrose," she explained in a dead serious tone.
His eyes narrowed on her. "Hypersucrose?"
"Yep. Basically, when tested, it so happened my blood ca out extrely—sweet. Perhaps, it explains why I like my n like I like my food?" She held his gaze, as the ice-cream spoon dangled loosely from her mouth.
Luciano’s eyes began to widen, but then narrowed, as it gained clarity.
His chest rumbled, and he let out a deep chuckle.
"You think you’re funny, don’t you?"
"Well I pulled a chuckle out of you, so—" she shrugged.
"You’re very calculated, Valentina."
The way he called out her full na made her pause, and stare at him.
"I am?"
"Yep. Explains your little show earlier. You wanted to see it, didn’t you?"
Valentina racked through her brain, and stopped when she figured what he was talking about.
Using the ice-cream as cover, she lowered her head quickly to hide the red tint that had ford on her face.
"You saw that," she said, trying to keep a steady voice.
"You wanted to see it, Valentina."
There he went again. Calling her na like he was reciting poetry.
"Well I had to make a statent. It’s not fair to be locked up for sothing I didn’t do." She scooped so more ice-cream into her mouth.
"So you say. Still, we have to follow protocols. Also, how does telling to fuck off help your case? You’d think you’ll be more humble."
That word cut straight to her chest. She dropped the spoon, and pushed the ice-cream to the side.
"I haven’t been humble enough?"
"No, you haven’t. In fact, so people would consider you extrely rude."
She let out a small dry laugh. "I’m the rude one, yet my ancestry has been decimated and questioned recklessly? If I’m rude, What’s your wife to be?"
"Cute," he answered in a heartbeat.
"Cute?" Her eyes twinkled in amusent.
"She’s the woman I’m marrying. I find everything she does cute."
Valentina spotted the bait a second ti, and decided to jump over it.
"Well I do wish you and your woman a happy married life then. You are a match made in–" her eyes swiftly road around the room. "Heaven," she chuckled, and picked up her ice-cream again.
Luciano’s gaze fixated on her, just like in the beginning.
He didn’t understand this woman with moods like waves.
The things he thought would make her mad, she laughed over.
So far, all of the bait he threw her, she wriggled her way out of.
"Her parents. Use her parents," that wicked voice returned.
But as he watched her devour the ice-cream, all he wanted to do was see behind the facade.
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