Episode Ten – The Problem with Wanting
1366 Words
Valentina’s POV
The morning after she saw Lucía again, Valentina couldn’t breathe.
She stood in the glass-walled bathroom of her penthouse suite, a silk robe hanging open over her bare shoulders, and stared at her reflection like it was an opponent. Her jaw was clenched. Her pulse flickered at her throat like a secret.
She’d seen that look in Lucía’s eyes last night—the crack between fear and want. It should’ve satisfied her. It should’ve been enough.
But it wasn’t.
Not even close.
Valentina pressed her palms to the cool marble countertop and closed her eyes. The silence roared. She could still feel the tension of Lucía’s voice: You can’t just show up in people’s neighborhoods like you own them.
And that was the problem.
She did own them. Or at least, people like her did.
Valentina had always walked through the world like it owed her something. Power wasn’t just a birthright—it was blood-deep, bone-etched. She wore it like perfume, like armor.
But with Lucía?
Everything felt different.
Lucía didn’t flinch the way others did. She didn’t ask for favors or try to get close. She looked at Valentina like she saw something dangerous—and maybe that was why Valentina couldn’t stop circling her like a storm.
She craved the sharpness in Lucía’s voice. The warning in her eyes. The resistance.
Valentina turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. Tried to rinse off the memory.
But it clung.
Every damn second.
The way Lucía had looked at her before she walked away—like she was holding back an entire universe of words.
Like she was seconds from either slapping her or kissing her.
And Valentina didn’t know which one she wanted more.
She reached for a towel, dried her face, and stepped out of the bathroom, her bare feet silent on the polished floor. The penthouse was quiet, as always. No footsteps, no voices. Just the low hum of the espresso machine that one of her staff had prepped before dawn.
She ignored it.
Instead, she walked to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the skyline, one hand on her hip, the other absently curling around the edge of her robe.
This city was hers.
But suddenly, it wasn’t enough.
She turned away from the window, grabbed her phone off the counter, and opened the private security app she rarely used. Cameras, trackers, briefings.
She hovered over the footage from the driver she’d posted near Lucía’s apartment.
The camera feed was blank.
Good.
She wasn’t trying to scare her.
Not really.
She was trying to understand her.
And failing.
A text popped up at the top of the screen.
Aurelio:
You're late for the family brunch. Again.
Valentina stared at the message.
She’d forgotten.
The entire De Luca clan was supposed to be gathering in the garden terrace of the family estate—another excuse for the matriarchs to pretend they weren’t running a criminal empire beneath their manicured lawns.
With a growl, she tossed the phone onto the couch and marched into her closet.
Black pants. Dark turtleneck. A silver chain around her throat like a noose. Her usual armor. One last glance in the mirror and she was gone.
---
The drive to the family compound was short, but her thoughts stretched on forever.
Lucía.
That mouth. Those eyes.
That impossible, infuriating dignity.
She wasn’t supposed to care.
This was a distraction. A dangerous one.
And Valentina had never been reckless with her distractions.
She arrived late.
Of course.
The family estate bloomed like a secret palace behind wrought-iron gates and guards in discreet suits. The scent of roses and firewood lingered in the air as she stepped into the sun-drenched courtyard.
Her brother was already there, glass of prosecco in hand, laughing with one of their cousins.
“Val,” Aurelio said, raising his glass with mock exasperation. “So glad you decided to join us before dessert.”
“Bite me,” she muttered as she kissed his cheek.
Their grandmother was seated beneath the pergola, draped in pearls and opinions.
“You look thin,” Nonna said. “And tired.”
“You look judgmental,” Valentina replied sweetly, earning a snort from her brother.
The brunch blurred around her—family updates, discreet side conversations, passive-aggressive compliments. She played her part. Smiled at the right moments. Even made a toast.
But her mind stayed elsewhere.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lucía.
And it wasn’t just lust.
It wasn’t even obsession.
It was something she didn’t have a name for.
Something that scared her.
---
Later that evening, Valentina slipped away from the estate under the pretense of a meeting.
No one stopped her. No one ever did.
She drove herself this time. No driver, no escort. Just the low growl of her Maserati and the ache in her chest.
She didn’t even realize where she was going until she saw the neon sign of the restaurant where Lucía worked.
It was late. Past closing. The lights were off.
But Valentina parked anyway.
Got out. Stood across the street in the shadows.
She told herself she wasn’t going to knock. She wasn’t going to cross another line.
She just needed… to see it.
To feel close.
She was about to turn back when the side door creaked open.
Lucía stepped out, a paper bag in her hand, her curls tied back messily, her expression tired but peaceful.
Valentina’s breath caught.
She looked beautiful.
Not in the red carpet way Valentina was used to. Not in the designer-laced, camera-ready version of desire.
Lucía looked real.
Grounded.
Untouchable.
Valentina didn’t move.
Lucía walked down the steps, glanced both ways, then froze.
Their eyes met across the street.
Neither spoke.
The city moved around them. A bus rumbled past. A couple argued two doors down. A dog barked from somewhere unseen.
But between them?
Silence.
Valentina took a step forward.
Lucía didn’t run.
Didn’t speak.
Just watched her.
Valentina crossed the street, heart hammering.
She stopped a few feet away. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Lucía’s voice was low. “You didn’t.”
“You looked… peaceful.”
Lucía looked down. “I was.”
That stung more than it should’ve.
Valentina shoved her hands in her coat pockets, unsure of what to say. Unsure of what she wanted. “I can leave.”
Lucía didn’t answer.
The silence stretched.
Then—softly—Lucía asked, “Why are you really here?”
Valentina looked at her.
Not her mouth. Not her body.
Her.
And the answer came before she could stop it.
“Because I don’t know how to not be.”
Lucía inhaled sharply.
Valentina stepped closer. “You think I do this all the time. That I chase after girls and send flowers and wait outside restaurants like some lovesick cliché.”
Lucía’s mouth twitched. “You don’t?”
Valentina shook her head. “I don’t.”
Lucía didn’t reply.
The city light shimmered off her cheekbones, turned her into something half-magic.
Valentina reached out—then stopped herself.
Lucía noticed.
That hesitation cracked something open between them.
“I’m not safe for you,” Valentina said quietly. “My life isn’t safe. My name isn’t safe. You being near me? It’s a risk.”
Lucía’s eyes burned. “Then why keep coming back?”
Valentina stepped closer. “Because you feel like the only thing that’s real.”
Lucía blinked. “You don’t even know me.”
“I want to.”
Another beat.
Another breath.
And then—slowly, painfully—Lucía said, “I’m scared.”
Valentina nodded. “Me too.”
Neither of them moved.
Then Lucía whispered, “What do we do now?”
Valentina searched her face.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“But I don’t want to stop.”
---
They stood there in the
silence.
Not touching.
Not kissing.
Just existing.
And for Valentina, that was new.
It was terrifying.
It was everything.
She’d had power. Pleasure. Control.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
It was the edge of a cliff.
And she was already falling.
- Writer
