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VALENTINA

Five years earlier.

My fingers tremble as I peek out from behind the heavy velvet curtain. My parents sit proudly in the front row, flanked by some of my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Ignoring them, I scan the room for a different face—the only face I want to see right now.

Movement toward the back of the darkened auditorium catches my eye, and my nervous breath stills. He’s never looked more handsome than he does tonight, but then again, I think that every time I see him.

Enzo leans against the wall, lounging casually in the shadows by the emergency exit. His sandy-brown hair shimmers like gold in the atmospheric light. I almost convince myself I can see his eyes from my hiding spot behind the drapes—deep pools of jade green. Our eyes connect, and he flashes a crooked smile in my direction.

My golden boy. He came.

“Valentina!” the stagehand whisper-yells in my ear. “Position. Let’s go!”

A drop of sweat slides down my nose, and my fingers twitch uncontrollably, but I take a deep breath and center myself. As soon as the music starts, everything else slips away, and I perform the opening pas de deux lost in a daydream. My body feels weightless, my muscles pushing and pulling me as I chase the high that only a perfect performance can give me.

By the time curtain call rolls around, I’m floating in a haze of shimmery happiness. I take my final curtsy as I watch Enzo slip out the door, and my heart drops. Of course, I didn’t expect him to stay—that would cause too many complications.

All that matters is he came.

My family swarms me backstage, congratulating me and praising my performance. I plaster on a fake smile, accepting their hugs and flowers. I finally pull away, excusing myself from their clutches.

“I just need to pop back into the studio to grab my things,” I lie, fidgeting with the hem of my costume. “I’ll meet you at home.”

“Don’t be late,” my father warns, suspicion creeping into his eyes. I nod obediently and high-tail it to the car.

Adam, my driver, takes his sweet time cruising under the speed limit, and I nearly bite his head off. Only the knowledge that he’ll report my “high-strung mood,” as my family often calls any type of emotion, to my father keeps my mouth shut.

I force myself to relax while I undo the tight bun from my hair and let it loose. When we pull up to the studio, I tell Adam I need to do some cool-down exercises and pack my things. He grunts and settles into his seat with a book.

I explode into the dark, silent studio and spin around, looking for Enzo. My heart flutters inside my ribcage, all chaotic and painfully fast. Maybe he didn’t come. Maybe I’ll never see him again.

“ Bonjour , Lenny.”

I whirl around as the studio door floats closed behind him. He stands in the middle of the room, grinning like a fool in love, and I mirror his expression. I catapult into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist and peppering his face with kisses.

“If I knew French turned you on so much,” he gasps under my attack, “I would have learned something sexier than ‘hello.’”

“Shut up, Enzo,” I warn. “And don’t call me Lenny.”

“But it suits you,” he teases, sliding me back down onto my toes. “Besides, Valentina is such a mouthful.”

“I’ll give you a mouthful.” I laugh and tackle him to the floor.

“God, I hope so.” He smirks at me and flips me onto my back, kissing me deeply. My body hums and sings beneath his, the euphoria taking me higher and higher. The good girl, prima ballerina Valentina, disappears, and my insatiable appetite for Enzo takes over.

I grind my hips into him, feeling him getting hard for me. Enzo moans, tracing his lips over my neck and collarbone as I slide my fingers into his hair. The hum of the air conditioner kicks in, sending a cool breeze across our bodies.

My body begs to feel his bare skin against mine, and my brain dutifully listens as I tug off his shirt. He struggles with my complicated performance costume, trying to find a way to get inside it. I giggle as I slide off his jeans, and he shoots me a devious little grin.

With one hard tug, he tears my costume apart, leaving me completely exposed to him. His eyes glaze over, and his breathing hitches.

“Enzo, you fucker,” I moan as his lips trail across my chest and down my stomach.

“Send me the bill, darling,” he quips, right before he nudges my thighs wide open and slips his hands under my ass. I land a solid smack on his shoulder, but he just flattens himself on the floor, innocently kissing my knee.

I relax on the cool, wooden floor with a smile on my face as he continues his teasing. Slowly, softly, he covers my kneecap with kisses while his strong fingers massage my ass cheeks. My thighs are spread, my pussy dripping and begging to be licked, but he feigns nonchalance and kisses my other knee.

“Enzo,” I wail, thrusting my hips up none too subtly.

“Yes, Lenny? Can I help you with something?”

“You can stop calling me Lenny,” I huff, squirming as his fingers dig deeper into the delicate skin of my hips. “And you can fucking eat me out already.”

His rich, warm laugh booms around the studio, bouncing off the empty walls. I feel like I’m inside the core of Enzo’s soul when he laughs, and it feels safe—like home. I thrust my hips petulantly one more time for comedic effect, and he grins, disarming me with his dimples.

“Since you’ve made such an articulate argument, I shall oblige,” he says happily and dives between my thighs. Moans of pleasure escape my lips, so low and wild that I’m almost embarrassed. When I hear him match my feral noises, the shame easily slips away.

And that’s the way it always is with Enzo. He never makes me feel bad about any part of myself—whether that’s acting hysterical for his love or having an emotional outburst that’s decidedly not mafia style.

I come fully undone as his tongue explores every single inch of me, delving inside and circling my most sensitive spots. My orgasm builds even more quickly when I drop my head to the side and catch a glimpse of us in the full-length mirrors surrounding the room.

My pale, milky skin against Enzo’s glowing golden limbs looks so erotic that I can’t take my eyes off the sight. I watch the muscles in his back ripple and tense as he pumps a finger, then two inside me. My hips rise off the floor, and he looks down at me proudly.

“Good girl, you’re so close,” he breathes, licking his lips. “Fuck, you’re delicious.”

I whimper as the euphoria swirls and twirls across my insides like a kaleidoscope of butterflies. I fucking love this man so much. How am I ever going to live without him?

“Come for me, love,” he whispers as his fingers stroke that glorious, sensitive spot inside me.

I bite my lip to keep from screaming and move my hips wildly, but Enzo holds on tight. When my insides feel like they’ve been lit on fire, I explode, falling limp onto the floor. Stars spin in my eyes as I gasp for breath. Enzo grins down at me and moves to rise.

“Where the hell,” I gasp, pulling him back toward me, “do you think you’re going?”

“I just came to make you come,” he whispers and tucks my hair behind my ear. I groan in frustration and tackle him with all my strength. He goes down pretty easily, his laugh reverberating around the room.

Even though I’m deeply exhausted, I slide down his length, straddling him as he moans in ecstasy.

I never know when I’ll see him next—or last. I’ll take everything I can get tonight.