Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 64

VALENTINA

That evening, Adrian asked me to put Stefan to bed. He looked worn out, the kind of tired that seeps into your bones after a long day of emotional strain. I could see it in the way he stood at the doorway—shoulders slumped, eyes heavy with exhaustion. It was as if the weight of his son’s silent rejection was pressing down on him, and my heart ached quietly for him.

After tucking Stefan in, I retrieved one of the new picture books I’d recently ordered and settled on the edge of his bed. The soft glow from the bedside lamp cast a warm light over the pages, but Stefan’s gaze wasn’t on the bright, colorful illustrations. Instead, his eyes kept drifting toward Milo, who was curled up on the rug, her nose tucked beneath her fluffy tail.

I smiled gently and patted the blanket beside us. “Come on, Milo. It’s story time.”

Her ears twitched in response, and with a graceful leap, she hopped onto the bed, circling once before settling comfortably between Stefan and me. Stefan’s small fingers immediately found her fur, stroking it slowly and rhythmically as I began to read aloud. His breathing gradually evened out, his little body relaxing in that way only a child can when comforted by a familiar ritual.

When I reached the last page, I smoothed the blanket over his legs. “Do you want Milo to stay with you tonight?”

Without hesitation, his eyes—wide and heavy with sleep—nodded.

“All right,” I whispered. “But if you get up and wander around, you’ll wake her. Can you promise to stay in bed until morning?”

He tilted his head thoughtfully, as if weighing a serious decision, then gave a firm nod. My smile deepened. Leaning down, I kissed his forehead, inhaling the sweet scent of shampoo mixed with the faint, lingering aroma of the park still clinging to his hair.

I switched on the dim nightlight and moved toward the door. “Goodnight, Stefan.”

I was halfway through closing it when a small, muffled voice broke the silence.

“G’night.”

The word was barely more than a whisper, yet it echoed loudly in my chest. I froze. Slowly, I turned back, but Stefan had already pulled the blanket over his head, hiding as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

My throat tightened as tears welled unbidden in my eyes. Swallowing hard, I stepped quietly into the hallway, closing the door behind me as gently as possible.

Still feeling a bit stunned, I made my way downstairs. Adrian was in the cigar lounge, setting up the pool table—a ritual we’d developed after long, heavy days to find some solace in the familiar clack of the balls. The dim room felt heavy with unspoken tension. He looked up as I entered, his brow immediately furrowed.

“Hey,” he said, lowering the cue stick. “What happened?”

“Stefan,” I breathed out. “He… he said good night.”

Adrian blinked, stunned. “He talked to you?” There was pain beneath his disbelief, a raw edge that made my heart ache even more.

I nodded quickly. “Just one word, but it’s something. It’s progress.”

He nodded too, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed the complex mix of pride and hurt swirling inside him. I stepped closer, wrapping my arms around his waist. “You’re gone so much,” I murmured against his chest. “Milo, Sofia, and I—we’re the ones he spends most of his time with. That’s why he’s opening up to us first. You just need more time with him. Take a walk with us in the park, have lunch with us—see him when he’s relaxed, not right before bed when he’s tired and cranky.”

Adrian exhaled slowly, his hand finding the small of my back. “We could spend his birthday at the beach house,” he suggested after a pause. “Stefan loves it there.”

I leaned back to look at him, a smile spreading across my face. “That sounds perfect. I’ll bake a cake and decorate everything with dinosaurs. Maybe we could invite Gemma and her family too? Her daughters are about Stefan’s age, right?”

“One’s a year younger, the other’s two years older,” he replied, his expression softening. “That sounds like a good idea.” He reached up and brushed a few strands of hair from my face, his fingers lingering gently against my temple.

I laughed softly. “Do you still hate my bangs?” I teased, remembering that first night when he’d looked at me with mild disapproval and said they didn’t suit me. Back then, the comment had stung. Now, it felt like just another quirky piece of the puzzle that was Adrian.

His gaze softened, and a faint smile touched his lips. “There’s nothing I hate about you,” he said quietly.

My heart pounded fiercely. I searched his face, trying to decipher the meaning behind his tone. His lips found mine, cutting off my thoughts. His kiss deepened, growing more urgent as he gripped my hips and lifted me onto the pool table. I squealed in surprise. Adrian positioned me so my hips rested on the edge, pushing my legs apart. It was awkward, but I refused to complain. My short plaid skirt rode up. “What about my skirts? You don’t hate those either?”

Adrian pulled out. I gasped, my walls clenching from the sudden loss. Cold air hit my wet skin, but then his tongue was there, warming me again. He licked carefully, knowing I was still hypersensitive. I went limp on the table, suspended by its edge as my legs gave out.

Soon, the pleasure built again. His hunger grew, the gentle lapping turning into a frantic thrashing. Time slipped away as I surrendered to him, letting him take control, giving and receiving pleasure until I felt delirious. We ended up sprawled on the pool table, breathing hard. I was fairly certain I’d wake up with rug burn and bruises, but none of that mattered.

“Sometimes I wonder what I’ll say to Stefan when he’s older and starts asking questions. He’ll want to know why half his family is gone.”

I turned toward him, then rolled over, propping myself on his chest with my chin resting on my intertwined fingers. “You sound guilty.”

“Sometimes I feel guilty.”

“You had to kill Lorenzo. Even if you hadn’t done it in a fit of rage, you would have had to because he was a traitor.”

“I never got confirmation. I didn’t question him or Serena. I should have, but I killed him before I could torture the truth out of him. And Serena… I couldn’t force information from her. She wouldn’t have told me anything anyway.”

I bit my lower lip. “Lorenzo was a traitor. Everything pointed to it, so his death was inevitable. Serena’s death was the result of their forbidden affair—it was inevitable too. It was her choice, and you couldn’t stop it.”

“I killed Stefan’s and Sofia’s grandparents too.”

“Stefan will ask questions one day, and we’ll answer them. We’ll tell him Lorenzo was a traitor who ran away. His betrayal broke his sister’s heart, so she killed herself, and their parents couldn’t live after losing both children. It’s a story few could challenge, and those who could, won’t.”

His palm stroked my back gently. “I didn’t think you’d be someone who’d choose to lie.”

“If it protects you and the kids, I’ll lie about anything.”

Adrian sighed, his strong chest rising beneath my chin. “But first, he’ll have to forgive me for whatever it is he holds against me.”