Page 26

"You're going to give me a heart attack," Valentina said, her voice cutting cleanly through the stillness of the night—sharp and steady, the way her heels struck the pavement with purpose, each step echoing like punctuation in the cold air.

Lilith flinched at the sound, not visibly, but inwardly—where the world had started spinning too slowly and too loudly all at once.

The streetlamps seemed to hum. The quiet of the evening no longer felt peaceful.

It felt exposing. Her senses, dulled by alcohol and sharpened by pain, betrayed her in a thousand subtle ways—every sound was exaggerated, every shadow dragged longer than it should have.

The phone call hadn't gone well. In fact, calling it a disaster might've been generous.

At first, Valentina hadn't understood a single word spilling from Lilith's mouth—sentences blending into curses, names tossed around like blame, a mix of rage and vulnerability pouring out without permission.

Lilith had cursed out the entire world, and somewhere in the middle of that chaos, Valentina realized she hadn't hung up—not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't.

And so, once she'd pieced together where Lilith was, she'd thrown on her coat with a resigned sigh.

"Is that a compliment?" Lilith asked, her voice sluggish but carrying the same dry bite she always wielded when she didn't want to seem small.

She lifted a trembling hand to her lips, inhaling from the cigarette like it was the only thing keeping her upright, even as the cold bit at her fingers and turned her skin a shade too pale.

The wind was merciless. Even beneath the leather jacket she hadn't properly zipped up, Lilith could feel the night seeping in, settling deep in her bones. Her black tights offered no protection from the creeping winter, and her legs shook despite how tightly she pressed them together.

She looked as if she'd been sitting there for a while.

"No."

Valentina's voice held no gentleness. Just clarity. She stopped in front of her, unmoved by the way Lilith's eyes trailed upward to meet hers.

It was a striking contrast—Lilith slouched on the edge of the kerb, disheveled and exhausted, the glow of her cigarette casting a faint orange light over her hollowed cheeks, while Valentina stood above her like the closing act of a tragedy.

Her black coat framed her tall figure, the high collar brushing against her jaw, and her lipstick tonight—deep, dark red—was unforgivingly bold.

She looked beautiful.

Like always.

Lilith didn't know what surprised her more—that Valentina looked so composed, so unapologetically beautiful in the kind of night that made most people look undone.

Or that she didn't want to speak to her.

Not really.

Because all the words inside her tasted bitter now, even the ones she used to reach for when she wanted to tease her. The need to perform, to impress, to dance around the discomfort—she couldn't do any of it tonight.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

Valentina's tone had shifted—still calm, but not indifferent. There was something patient in the way she spoke now, something quietly insistent. As if she was offering Lilith a choice she already knew the answer to.

"What happened, Lilith?" Valentina asked again, her voice low and steady, carefully measured like the footsteps she'd taken to find Lilith here.

Lilith didn't bother to meet her gaze. Instead, she exhaled a thin plume of smoke, her eyes fixed somewhere beyond the dim streetlights, where shadows blurred into one another.

"Let's just say your employee is doing a fantastic job representing the warmth and humanity of your company," she muttered, voice thick with irony, the words dripping with exhaustion and a trace of something colder—disillusionment, maybe.

Before Valentina could respond, before the calm in her tone could even settle, Lilith's frustration broke loose—raw and unapologetic.

"By the way... is it a requirement to be a bitch to work there, or just a fun little coincidence?"

Her voice was sharp, a knife cutting through the quiet, revealing layers of irritation she hadn't bothered to disguise. There was no subtlety here—only the fierce, reckless honesty that came from being too tired to care.

Valentina's brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing her features as she tried to untangle the web of whatever had pushed Lilith to this edge. What exactly had made the blonde unravel like this?

And yet, beneath the sharp edges of Lilith's words, beneath the reckless anger and the biting sarcasm, Valentina found something quietly endearing.

Something painfully human.

It was the first time she'd seen Lilith so openly annoyed—so vulnerable in a way that didn't hide behind wit or deflection.

And all Valentina wanted was to understand the story behind the storm.

She was about to speak—about to ask again when Lilith cut her off, faster now, breathless almost with the need to unload.

"Also, you didn't have to bother coming. I saw how busy you were earlier—I would've hated to interrupt the CEO circus."

Valentina's eyebrow lifted slowly, arching in perfect, measured disbelief.

"You're angry," she stated simply.

Lilith laughed then—sharp and hollow, the kind of laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes as she stubbed out the cigarette.

"Me? Angry? This is just how I express my overwhelming joy," she said, rolling her eyes in mockery.

"I won't ask again."

Lilith let out a breathy laugh again, her head rolling back.

"Oh no, the final warning. I'm shaking."

Valentina exhaled a long, slow breath, the kind that carries patience but also a warning.

She knew—knew better than anyone—that Lilith was lucky tonight was one of those rare days when exhaustion hadn't completely stolen her own patience.

Because if it had, if the weight of the day had finally pushed her over the edge—

She might have handled this blonde haired brat much differently.

In a way she wasn't proud of.

Just like the first time they'd met.

So instead, after letting out a soft sigh, Valentina let her voice soften just enough to sound coaxing, almost gentle.

"If you could stop yelling at the air for two seconds, I'd really like to know what actually happened."

Lilith didn't soften her tone—not even a fraction.

Her voice held that familiar edge of stubbornness, the kind that made Valentina simultaneously exasperated and amused.

"Guess you'll just have to live with the mystery."

She could have told Valentina everything—every humiliating detail, every cutting word thrown her way.

But what would be the point?

Lilith pictured the world Valentina moved in as a maze of polished, ruthless people just like the one who had made her feel small today.

And then there was the crushing weight of embarrassment, the kind that curled deep inside and refused to be spoken aloud.

To admit, even to Valentina, that her simple, hopeful gesture had been called pathetic.

The memory replayed itself relentlessly in her mind, each word cutting a little deeper, each moment a bitter sting.

Lilith leaned her head back exhaling a breath heavy with frustration.

"Fuck all of y'all," she muttered under her breath.

But Valentina's tone sharpened, shedding any remaining softness, dropping like a command in the quiet night air.

"Get up."

Lilith's eyes flicked up to meet hers, searching for something—was it anger?

Disappointment?

Or simply the hard edge of authority?

For a fleeting moment, Lilith didn't know if the annoyance she received from Valentina made her feel satisfied—or quietly upset that she could make the woman feel that at all.

Maybe it was the first.

Because she answered, without hesitation, with a simple, defiant, "No."

Valentina's brow arched, the movement slow and deliberate—like a cat intrigued by a new game.

"No?" she echoed, the word lingering in the space between them like a challenge waiting to be taken up.

"No."

Lilith shrugged, a quick, careless motion meant to dismiss the command, but it only made her resistance all the more palpable.

Without warning, Valentina's arm shot up like lightning—firm, certain—and she lifted Lilith from the kerb in a single, effortless motion.

Before Lilith could protest further, she was hoisted over Valentina's shoulder, her weight light enough to feel almost like a feather.

It made her blush—partly because of how effortlessly the woman had picked her up, even though she didn't weigh that much, and partly because of how ridiculous she must've looked now, slung over Valentina's shoulder like some helpless thing.

"Put me down!"

The words came out easy, a soft protest mingled with a teasing edge, accompanied by a gentle kick aimed at Valentina's ribs—playful but with just enough bite to remind her she wasn't completely powerless.

Valentina didn't flinch.

She simply moved forward, steady and unyielding, carrying Lilith towards the car parked just a few feet away—an island of warmth waiting in the chill night.

Lilith's breath caught briefly, and she murmured under her breath, voice tinged with dry humor, "I know you're rich, but kidnapping is still illegal."

Valentina's response was sharp and dry, laced with a subtle smirk that only Lilith could hear.

"Oh no. I'm devastated—really."

"You're such a relentless woman," Lilith murmured, voice dry with lingering defiance, though her eyes were already a little too heavy from the vodka, the wind, and the weight of the day.

Her cheek rested against Valentina's back, and for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to notice how solid the woman felt beneath her touch—how her scent clung to the fabric of her coat, warm and luxurious and painfully comforting.

It wasn't fair that the woman could smell that good.

"Tell me about it," Valentina replied, her tone effortlessly dry, like she'd heard that complaint a hundred times before and wore it like an old, familiar coat.

She opened the passenger door without ceremony and guided Lilith into the seat with a kind of mechanical grace—gentle, but impersonal, as if she were switching into a version of herself designed for damage control.

The car door closed with a low thud. The engine came to life. Silence settled in.

Outside, the street blurred under the passing streetlights.

Inside, the air felt stifled—thick with everything neither of them was saying.

Lilith shifted in her seat, hugging her jacket tighter around her as the buzz of her earlier drunkenness began to wane, leaving behind only a pulsing headache and the raw remnants of what she had said.

Maybe the way she'd spoken to Valentina had crossed a line she hadn't meant to draw.

But the thought of apologizing felt like peeling open her chest.

"I don't act like this usually..." she said softly, almost as if she was testing the weight of her own voice in the silence. The confidence she'd worn earlier had drained from her words. All that remained was a quiet admission, offered like a cracked porcelain dish—delicate and not entirely whole.

Valentina didn't look at her. She just nodded once, the gesture as subtle as a breath.

But Lilith caught the difference immediately.

It wasn't one of those quiet, tender nods the woman sometimes gave her—the ones that felt like they held a thousand unspoken words.

This one was rigid. Distant. Acknowledgment, not understanding.

And then she saw it.

The tension in Valentina's jaw. The way it clenched, just slightly. The muscle twitching with restraint.

Whatever soft remorse Lilith had felt five seconds earlier shriveled beneath the heat of her own defensiveness. It was easier to roll her eyes. Easier to hide behind attitude than sit in the discomfort of guilt.

"You won't say anything?" she asked, her voice now coated with sarcasm as she slouched deeper into the seat, arms crossed over her chest like a teenager refusing to admit they were wrong.

Valentina didn't respond immediately. When she finally did, her voice was as smooth and composed as ever—but there was an unmistakable chill beneath the surface.

"It's clear you have no intention of telling me what happened" she said, still not turning her head. "So—no."

That was it. Just that clipped, perfect calm that made Lilith feel like she'd already lost a conversation that had never even begun.

"Great," she muttered under her breath, turning towards the window again as if that single word could end the entire moment.

As soon as the car slowed to a stop outside her building, Lilith didn't give herself time to think. She pushed the door open with unnecessary urgency and stepped out into the cold night without another glance.

"Goodnight," she tossed over her shoulder—sharp, dismissive, intentionally careless.

She didn't even realize how deeply it unsettled her—how being on bad terms with Valentina Salvatore felt less like a disagreement and more like something quietly tearing at the edges of her.

A slow, shapeless hollowing Lilith hadn't expected to care about.