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He shoved it away violently.
Their night together wasn’t the issue; he’d self-medicated between the soft, willing thighs of many women over the years. But this…thisintrusioninto his home, into hisheart…
He could not risk either. Not now, and not for the foreseeable future.
Desmond began counting breaths, tapping rapidly on his leg as he did so. He had to be calm when he left this bathroom, when Val was awake and looking at him with her usual gentleness, the gentleness he clearly had responded to so intensely the night before.
Had they really only known each other for two days?
The softest of noises in the doorway made him look up; Val stood there in the dressing gown, which was now anchored securely around her curves. Though the silk clung just as suggestively to her body as it had the night before, he did not feel any lust. Instead, he felt a tug in his chest that was much more disconcerting.
In the warm, natural light of the early morning she looked lovelier than he’d ever seen her. She was carefully expressionless.
“Good morning.” The huskiness in his voice surprised him.
“Good morning.”
“Did you sleep well?” Why was this painfully awkward already?
“As well as you did, I think.” There was a flicker of a smile on her face, enough to make him feel a bit better.
“It’s all right,” he said, careful to match her neutral expression with his own.
“I—I appreciate your trusting me enough to bring me to your father’s memorial service. I didn’t know him, but I’m sure, I’m sure he would be so touched. This deal is…it’s important for both of you, and I’ll help you in any way I possibly can.”
He waited for a moment. She said nothing else, only folded her hands.
“Thank you,” he said after a moment.
She cleared her throat and drew the crimson silk more tightly across her chest. “I should…get dressed.”
“I’ll walk you back to the guest wing…”
She shook her head. “I can find my way. And, Desmond…” she hesitated.
“Yes?” His heart was pounding in his ears, a dull rush of blood.
“I want to find him.”
“Find…?”
Val continued, stating her words carefully and decisively. “I don’t want to be married to him anymore. I want to be free. I want to put that bit of my life behind me, officially. I think the past couple of days have made me see things differently.”
Desmond’s heart was squeezed so tight in his chest he found it hard to breathe. “Go on.”
“You’re getting better at the listening bit,” she remarked, crossing her arms.
“You’re a good example. Go on, then.”
“Every single moment married to Malik felt like work. He was so—” She cut herself off; as if she wasn’t quite ready to discuss all that. “Exhausting,” she said as a compromise. “His ambition was great, and it was exhausting. And then he left, and that was exhausting. And then I found out about the debts. I was arrested, and then everything became a struggle. Getting up. Taking care of myself. It was all exhausting. Even sleeping was exhausting, because my mind was constantly racing. Where the hell would I get that kind of money?”
He nodded. “I wondered why your family didn’t help, but given what you’ve told me about them…”
She shook her head, one short sharp movement. “They think I’m out here by choice. I…couldn’t. Too many of them warned me about Malik, but I married him anyway.” She sighed. “You had your own break with your family, and I had mine. I couldn’t… I couldn’t burden them with this, not when they didn’t want me there.”
“Valentina—”
“Living a life where you’re constantly reminding yourself how foolish you’ve been—” She broke off. “Pursuing a divorce would have been another thing I had to do, and I was already so tired.” She paused, blinking hard, but a tell-tale wetness was already making its way down her cheek. “I wish I had a better excuse.”