She blurted out her worst fears. The truth of Emmanuelle Ferraro. She’d never been good enough. It had never mattered that she’d had a perfect scorecard in every subject. There had been fault found with some performance. Her language skills weren’t perfect, even though her instructors had deemed them so. Her accents weren’t right. Her instructors were just babying her as usual. Her mother had gone so far as accusing her of sleeping with them in order to maintain her good grades.
Training in hand-to-hand skills and weapons, she never was good enough, no matter how many extra hours she put in. No matter how often Stefano and the others praised her and told her she was every bit as good as they were, her mother sneered and told her they were just making her feel good, that she lagged behind their skills by miles.
As a woman, she was too heavy and needed to diet, her hair wasn’t glossy enough, her skin needed to glow more. Her eyes were too big, her mouth too generous. Her lips too puffy. She sounded like a neighing horse when she laughed. Men rarely stayed faithful to the women they loved, let alone women who failed them. And if they weren’t good in the bedroom?
She told him every single thing her mother had said to her, over and over, almost daily since her childhood. Val heard her out, staying silent while the tears ran down her face. She hated that shame and embarrassment were so impossible to hide from him. When she finally stopped, when she couldn’t remember any more of the litany of her sins, Val groaned and dropped his face into her shoulder.
“I played right into your insecurities when you overheard the crap I said to Marge, didn’t I, Princess? Your fucking mother. She set you up to always feel inferior, and I just beat you down right along with her. I’m so sorry, Emme. I really am. You’re not anything like Eloisa has made you feel. Nothing like that at all. I don’t see you that way, and no one else does. Only you, because she wanted you to look at yourself that way. I have no idea why a woman would want her daughter to be so insecure.”
Emmanuelle had never understood why her mother despised her so much. She’d tried telling herself Eloisa had been hard on her because she was afraid for her and wanted her to be the best shadow rider possible. But why would she constantly belittle her looks? It was never-ending. She was hard on the boys, but not like Emmanuelle.
She kept her head down, refusing to look at Valentino. She’d never permitted herself to break down like this, even when she was alone. But a marriage of convenience, with eventual cheating by a man she didn’t love, was far better than having Val cheat on her. Or having Val look at her with the same disdain her mother held for her. She couldn’t bear that.
It was humiliating to confess it all to him, that she’d hidden away and made them both suffer because she’d been too much of a coward to face the truth. She’d been too ashamed to tell him. She hadn’t wanted to face the truth herself, let alone tell the man she loved.
Valentino rocked her gently, never once reproaching her. He didn’t force her head up or make her look at him, he just held her close to him as if she were the most precious treasure in the world, letting her cry until she couldn’t cry anymore.
How could she ever live without him? There was no way she could give him up, not when he reacted to a complete breakdown like that. Hiccups. Ugly crying. She was a mess. It didn’t seem to matter to him. He just held her, rocked her and stroked her hair or brushed kisses through it.
Emmanuelle began to focus on the things he murmured against her temple in his low, velvety voice. Soothing. Gentle.
“I love you so much, Princess. We can make it through anything together. We can. It’s going to be all right. You’ll see. I know this woman, owns a store down in New Orleans, third generation, makes voodoo dolls, the real deal. Unless you’d let me let Dario loose on her. I mean, I’d do it myself, but down the line, I know you, you’d get all sentimental and you’d be mad at me. You’re not a woman to withhold sex, but I’m not taking chances, so it’s the voodoo chick or Dario if we’re going in that direction.”
She rubbed her wet face on her sleeve and blinked rapidly to try to clear her eyes. “What in the world are you talking about?”
Val kissed her temple and sat up straight, his arm sliding around her neck. “Your mother. I can’t exactly pay my respects myself, so I’m considering our options. The woman needs a serious kick in the pants. A wake-up call. If I could control that creepy little shadow, I’d send it, but I can’t, so my options are limited. I can’t do her in as much as I’d like to—she’s your mother—although, if she messes with you, that option may go back on the table.”
The low note in his voice warned her he wasn’t joking. She pressed her head into his chest hard. “Don’t threaten my mother. We can decide not to see her, but you can’t harm her in any way. I’m serious. She’s my mother.”
“Miceli’s my uncle. He’s Dario’s father. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve to die. He absolutely does. No one hurts you, Emme. Stefano should have been protecting you. All of your brothers should have been. Eloisa is a bitter, vicious woman. I don’t care what she went through, so don’t defend her. You always do. She made your childhood a living hell. She’s not going to continue to make your life that way, and she won’t do it to our children.”
“No, she won’t,” Emmanuelle said decisively. “I tried very hard to be everything she wanted in a daughter, but I couldn’t measure up.”
“You measured up, Emme. She didn’t want you to feel beautiful or to succeed where she failed. You are beautiful. You walk into a room and no one can take their eyes off you. It took me a long time to get over a very childish reaction of jealousy with so many men’s eyes on you all the time. You always felt like you were slipping away from me, and I wanted to hang on to you so much tighter. That was my insecurity, not yours. You’re beautiful inside and out. My looks cover a monster. I have to own that.”
She turned her face up to his. “That isn’t true. Those women and children you’re risking your life to find say differently, Val.” She cupped the side of his face. “You always made me feel beautiful. You were the only one. I saw that in your eyes. Felt it when you said it. Believed it. Until that night.”
“You knew better, Emme. We share the same nerve endings. I can’t lie to you. You heard the lie I told her. You hear the truth when I say how beautiful you are. When I say I love you and you’re the only woman I’ll ever love.”
She reached behind her and hooked her arm behind the nape of his neck. “All right, then, Valentino Saldi. I’m making my full commitment to you. I’ll stand with you, be loyal to you, work this thing out with you and probably hit you over the head quite often. What do we do first?”
“We get married.”
That was the last thing she expected him to say. It felt like a punch to her gut. Her breath rushed out of her lungs in a long exhale so there was no air. None. At. All.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Breathe, Princess. You know how. You’re just having a little panic attack.” Valentino was wise enough to keep the amusement out of his voice. His princess, at the mere mention of marriage, every single time, suddenly couldn’t find a way to breathe.