The Hitman's Secret

Ch. 19: Power Struggles

VALENTINA

"Valentina, darling," Ezra cooed through a forced smile. "Don't forget to smile."

He placed his small hand on the side of her waist, tugging her closer to his side and angling their bodies toward the photographer he'd hired to document their outing. They'd spent the afternoon sampling hors d'oeuvres and cakes at Ezra's wedding venue of choice, the Plaza on Fifth Avenue. Naturally, he'd ordered a reporter and photographer from New York's prime 'foodie' magazine, The Daily Slice, to cover their day.

Val pasted her prettiest, demurest smile on her lips. In truth, her cheeks ached and she wanted to stab her fiancè with the next antipasto skewer that the venue staff brought out.

She waited until the photographer's camera flashed twice, capturing the latest photo of them in front of an arrangement of white hydrangeas, before allowing her smile to fall. She immediately stepped out of Ezra's grasp, and he did the same. It seemed that they both couldn't stand touching the other.

"Don't you think they've gotten enough pictures?" Val ground out, smoothing the skirt of the baby pink mini dress that he'd selected for her. She looked like a brunette barbie. "I mean, there's only so many ways you can photograph two people eating crab cakes and mini quiches."

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Our wedding will be the most important social event of the season. Maybe even the year. It's important for business that it's documented and advertised." He started to walk away, toward another arrangement of flowers that the hotel staff had brought forth for them to consider.

Our wedding. Her stomach twisted into a knot, dread sinking low in her gut. Dio, in a matter of months, she was going to be marrying this man. It made her sick.

Val watched him study the floral assortment and cringed. He scrunched his nose in disgust at the honeyed roses and gold clematis bouquet, waving them away as he spouted some nonsense about the tackiness of roses.

"I liked that arrangement," she offered, mainly for the benefit of the poor florist.

If anyone heard her, they made no show of it.

She sighed, turning away from Ezra and the photographer that trailed him like an obedient little puppy. Her horrible pink dress rustled at the movement.

Her eyes immediately landed on Matteo and Luca, who stood across the grand room known as the Palm Court, where Ezra wanted the hors d'oeuvres served on the evening of their wedding.

Luca caught her gaze and offered a small, encouraging smile. His kindness offered a momentary relief to the turmoil wreaking havoc in Val's mind.

She flickered her attention to Matteo, but her brooding hitman simply kept staring ahead, hands folded in front of him like a picturesque bodyguard. Although they hadn't seen each other much in the last several days, their interactions were wrought with tension and unspoken words. He'd been unusually quiet since her meeting with Bastian, and humiliation still consumed her every time she thought about her drunken profession of unrequited feelings.

She hated the awkwardness that had befallen their previously so easy relationship, but she didn't know the right words to mend things. Ultimately, she missed him, even though he stood mere paces away.

Swallowing her emotion, Val turned away, head down, and trailed after her blonde menace of a fiancè.

Ezra had taken a seat at a mini table beside a large, potted palm plant, and one of the hotel staff held out a chair for Val, too. She smiled her gratitude at the man before sliding into place beside her future husband.