Louboutins & Aprons

Chapter 2:Valentina

Saturday mornings were supposed to be peaceful.

At least, that was what people kept telling me.

They spoke about sleeping late, turning off their phones, drinking coffee slowly, and spending the entire day doing absolutely nothing.

I had never understood the appeal.

Doing nothing felt unproductive.

Unproductive felt uncomfortable.

And uncomfortable was something I avoided whenever possible.

So, at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning, I was sitting upright in bed with three business magazines spread across the expensive white sheets.

My bedroom overlooked the city. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting against the glass walls and polished marble floors. Everything in my home was modern, elegant, and carefully selected.

The furniture had been imported from Italy.

The artwork came from private collections.

My closet was larger than most apartments.

And my bed was covered in silk sheets that cost more than some people’s monthly salaries.

I had expensive taste.

I never denied it.

I picked up the newest business magazine and stared at the cover.

There I was.

Again.

My photograph occupied almost the entire page.

I was wearing a white suit and standing in front of one of De Luca & Co.’s newest luxury hotels. My arms were crossed, my expression was serious, and my red-soled heels were visible beneath the hem of my trousers.

The headline read:

VALENTINA DE LUCA: THE WOMAN WHO TURNED FEAR INTO POWER

I turned the page.

The article was exactly what I expected.

Ruthless.

Ambitious.

Cold.

The most powerful young woman in international business.

They had also included a quote from an anonymous businessman.

“Negotiating with Valentina De Luca is like playing chess against someone who already knows every move you are going to make.”

I smiled.

That was probably the nicest thing anyone had said about me all week.

My phone began ringing on the nightstand.

I glanced at the screen.

Adam.

I immediately answered.

“Good morning.”

“Valentina.”

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

I lowered the magazine.

“What?”

“How are you?”

I narrowed my eyes.

“You called me at eight-thirty in the morning to ask how I am?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Can’t a brother call his favorite sister?”

“I’m your only sister.”

“Exactly. You should appreciate the honor.”

I smiled despite myself.

Adam had always been the only person capable of making me smile before nine in the morning.

“I’m reading,” I said.

“Business magazines?”

“Obviously.”

“You know normal people read novels on Saturday mornings.”

“I’m not normal.”

“No,” Adam agreed. “You’re Valentina De Luca.”

“Exactly.”

There was a brief silence.

Then Adam cleared his throat.

“You know I’m mad at you, right?”

My smile disappeared.

I sat up straighter.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeated.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yes.”

“You missed my art exhibition.”

“I know.”

“You promised you would be there.”

“I know.”

“And then you disappeared.”

“I had a last-minute meeting.”

“You always have a last-minute meeting.”

“This one involved a company acquisition.”

“Valentina, you could have purchased a painting and attended the exhibition.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t even call.”

“I sent you flowers.”

“You sent me flowers during the exhibition.”

“They were expensive.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“They were imported.”

“Still not better.”

I sighed and placed the magazine beside me.

“Adam, I’m sorry. The meeting was important.”

“My exhibition was important too.”

“I know.”

“And I wanted you there.”

That part hurt.

Adam rarely sounded disappointed.

He usually laughed everything off. He made jokes when people criticized his career. He pretended not to care when our father dismissed his art.

But I knew him.

I knew when he was hiding his feelings.

“I should have come,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

There was another silence.

Then Adam sighed.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“Adam.”

“But I forgive you.”

“You forgive me?”

“Yes.”

“How generous.”

“I know.”

I shook my head.

“What do you want?”

“Brunch.”

I blinked.

“Brunch?”

“Yes.”

“You called to punish me with brunch?”

“I called because I miss my sister.”

His voice softened.

And suddenly, I felt guilty all over again.

“When?”

“Today.”

“What time?”

“Eleven.”

“I have things to do.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“I know what day it is.”

“You don’t have to work every day.”

“I don’t work every day.”

“You were reading a business magazine in bed.”

“That’s relaxation.”

“That is not relaxation.”

“It is for me.”

Adam laughed.

Then he said, “I’m sending you the location. Meet me there at eleven.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

“Adam.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“You’re going.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“You sound very confident.”

“Because I know you love me.”

I stared at the phone.

“I tolerate you.”

“You love me.”

“I tolerate you with affection.”

“That counts.”

A message appeared on my screen.

Adam had sent the location.

I opened it.

The name of the restaurant appeared beneath the address.

I had never heard of it.

“That place?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“It looks small.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Is it private?”

“No.”

“Do they have a private dining room?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do they have valet parking?”

“Valentina.”

“Do they?”

“I don’t know.”

I sighed.

“This is already becoming stressful.”

“Please don’t overdress.”

I looked down at the silk robe I was wearing.

“What does that mean?”

“It means don’t arrive in a couture gown.”

“I don’t wear couture gowns to brunch.”

“You wore a couture dress to my last birthday dinner.”

“It was an important occasion.”

“It was at my apartment.”

“It was still your birthday.”

“Valentina, it’s casual.”

“I’m Valentina De Luca.”

“I know.”

“I wear designer and couture.”

“I know.”

“I do not wear anything less.”

“You own normal clothes.”

“I own expensive casual clothes.”

“Wear those.”

“I’ll decide what to wear.”

“Please don’t arrive looking like you’re attending a royal wedding.”

“I cannot promise anything.”

Adam laughed.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me.”

“I tolerate you with affection.”

I smiled.

“See you at eleven.”

“Don’t be late.”

“I’m never late.”

“You were late to my exhibition.”

“I didn’t arrive at all.”

“Exactly.”

Then he ended the call.

I stared at my phone for several seconds.

Adam was my favorite person.

He always had been.

He was the only person who could tell me I was wrong without worrying about my reaction. He never cared about my reputation, my position, or the fact that most people in the company became nervous when I entered a room.

To Adam, I was simply his little sister.

The girl who used to follow him around the house.

The girl who secretly kept every painting he gave her.

The girl who defended him whenever our father complained about his career.

I looked at the time.

Eight forty-five.

I had more than two hours.

Perfect.

I could get ready slowly.

⸻

By ten forty-five, I was standing in front of the mirror.

I had chosen a fitted cream-colored designer dress with a structured blazer. The dress was elegant without being too formal.

At least, that was what I told myself.

My handbag was from a limited collection.

My diamond earrings were small.

My makeup was natural.

And my Louboutins were only five inches.

Casual.

I looked at my reflection.

“Perfect.”

My housekeeper walked past the bedroom.

“Ms. De Luca?”

“Yes?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to a business event?”

“No.”

“A private dinner?”

“Brunch.”

She stared at me.

“Brunch?”

“Yes.”

“You’re wearing diamonds.”

“They’re small.”

She looked at my shoes.

“And those heels?”

“They’re casual.”

She smiled.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Do you disagree?”

“No, Ms. De Luca.”

“Good.”

I picked up my handbag and walked out.

⸻

The restaurant was beautiful.

I had expected something small and ordinary.

Instead, I found a charming building surrounded by flowers and tall green plants. Large windows allowed sunlight to enter the dining area. The interior was decorated with warm wooden furniture, hanging lights, and paintings that covered the walls.

It was elegant.

But not in the way I was used to.

There were no crystal chandeliers.

No marble floors.

No private elevators.

No employees waiting to take my coat.

It was simple.

Warm.

Comfortable.

And strangely peaceful.

I stepped inside.

The sound of my heels echoed against the wooden floor.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Several people turned to look at me.

Of course they did.

I was wearing a designer dress and Louboutins in a restaurant where most people were dressed casually.

I ignored them.

Adam was sitting near one of the windows.

He stood when he saw me.

Then he looked me up and down.

“You said you wouldn’t overdress.”

“I said I couldn’t promise anything.”

“You’re wearing diamonds.”

“They’re small.”

“You’re carrying a handbag worth more than my car.”

“It’s a limited edition.”

“Valentina.”

“Adam.”

He walked toward me and kissed my cheek.

“It’s good to see you.”

My expression softened.

“It’s good to see you too.”

We sat down.

For the next hour, Adam told me everything about the exhibition.

He spoke about the paintings he had sold and the people who attended. He showed me photographs from the event.

I listened carefully.

Even though I had missed the exhibition, I wanted him to know that I cared.

“That one is beautiful,” I said, pointing to a painting on his phone.

“You like it?”

“I love it.”

“It’s already sold.”

“Buy it back.”

“Valentina.”

“What?”

“You can’t buy someone else’s painting.”

“I can offer them more money.”

“That is not how art works.”

“Everything has a price.”

Adam gave me a look.

“Not everything.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“You’re becoming philosophical.”

“I’m an artist.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“That too.”

I laughed.

Then my phone began ringing.

I looked at the screen.

It was my assistant.

I answered immediately.

“Claire.”

“Ms. De Luca, I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“You’re disturbing me.”

“I know.”

“What happened?”

“There’s a problem with the hotel acquisition.”

I stood.

“Explain.”

Adam looked at me.

I held up one finger.

He rolled his eyes.

I walked toward the entrance.

Claire began explaining the situation.

One of the investors wanted to change the agreement.

I listened carefully.

“No,” I said. “Tell them the original agreement remains.”

“They said they won’t sign.”

“Then they won’t sign.”

“They may leave the deal.”

“Let them.”

“Ms. De Luca—”

“We do not negotiate with people who change their terms at the last minute.”

“But the board—”

“The board can call me on Monday.”

“Yes, Ms. De Luca.”

“Send me the updated documents.”

“I will.”

I ended the call.

Then I turned toward the restaurant.

And walked directly into someone.

The impact caught me by surprise.

My heel slipped.

For one terrifying second, I lost my balance.

I was about to fall.

Then an arm wrapped around my waist.

Strong.

Steady.

Warm.

I froze.

My hand pressed against a firm chest.

The man holding me pulled me closer before I could fall.

“Careful,” he said.

His voice was low.

Soft.

I immediately lifted my head.

I was ready to yell.

I had already prepared the words.

Watch where you’re going.

But the moment I looked at him, every thought disappeared.

He was—

Perfect.

There was no other word for it.

He was tall.

Much taller than me, even in heels.

His dark hair was slightly messy, as though he had been running his fingers through it. His jaw was sharp. His features were strong and masculine.

But it was his eyes that held me.

Blue.

Or green.

I couldn’t decide.

They looked like the ocean when sunlight touched the water.

Captivating.

Beautiful.

Dangerously attractive.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

Then he slowly released my waist.

“Are you okay?”

I blinked.

“Yes.”

“Your heel slipped.”

“I noticed.”

A small smile appeared on his face.

It was barely there.

But it changed everything.

He was beautiful.

Not just handsome.

Beautiful.

The kind of beautiful that made people stare.

I straightened my dress.

“You should watch where you’re going.”

He looked amused.

“I was standing still.”

I opened my mouth.

Then closed it.

He was right.

I had been walking while arguing on the phone.

“I was distracted,” I said.

“I noticed.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No.”

“You sound like you are.”

“I apologize.”

His voice remained calm.

Soft.

He was not nervous.

He did not recognize me.

Or maybe he did and simply did not care.

That was new.

Most people knew who I was.

And if they did not, they usually recognized my name.

But this man looked at me as though I was just another woman who had almost fallen outside a restaurant.

“Excuse me,” he said.

Then he walked past me.

I turned.

“Wait.”

He stopped.

He looked over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

I stared at him.

What was I supposed to say?

Who are you?

Why are your eyes so beautiful?

Why did you hold me like that?

Instead, I said nothing.

He waited.

Then he nodded politely.

“Have a good day.”

And he walked into the restaurant.

I remained outside.

Staring at the door.

What had just happened?

I looked down at my phone.

Then back toward the entrance.

For the first time in years, a man had walked away from me without asking for my number.

Without mentioning my family.

Without recognizing me.

Without trying to impress me.

He had caught me.

Made sure I was safe.

And then left.

I walked back inside.

Adam was watching me.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You were outside for ten minutes.”

“I was on the phone.”

“And?”

“And someone bumped into me.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Who was it?”

I looked around.

The man was gone.

I walked toward the table.

“He came inside.”

“Who?”

“The man.”

“What man?”

“The one who caught me.”

Adam looked confused.

I searched the restaurant.

I didn’t see him.

Where had he gone?

I sat down.

“He was tall.”

“That describes half the men in the city.”

“He had dark hair.”

“Still not helpful.”

“His eyes were blue.”

“Or green,” I added.

Adam stared at me.

“Which one?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know his eye color?”

“They were both.”

“People don’t have two eye colors.”

“They looked different.”

“You sound confused.”

“I’m not confused.”

“You’re staring around the restaurant.”

“I’m looking for him.”

“Why?”

I opened my mouth.

Then stopped.

Why was I looking for him?

I barely knew him.

I didn’t even know his name.

Then I saw movement near the far end of the restaurant.

My eyes immediately found him.

He was standing beside the kitchen.

Except now, he was wearing a dark apron.

His sleeves were rolled to his elbows.

He was speaking to another employee while holding a plate.

I stared.

He was a chef.

Of course he was.

The most beautiful man I had ever seen was wearing an apron in a small restaurant.

I leaned closer to Adam.

“I found him.”

“Who?”

“That one.”

I pointed.

Adam followed my finger.

His eyes landed on the man.

Then he looked back at me.

“What?”

“I want that one.”

Adam stared.

“What?”

“I want him.”

“Valentina.”

“What?”

“You don’t know him.”

“I don’t need to know him.”

“You don’t even know his name.”

“I can find out.”

“You met him thirty seconds ago.”

“He caught me.”

“That does not mean you want him.”

“It means he has good reflexes.”

Adam covered his face.

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m interested.”

“You said you wanted him.”

“I do.”

“You cannot point at a man and decide that you want him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s a person.”

“I know that.”

“You sound like you’re choosing a handbag.”

“I don’t choose handbags that look like that.”

Adam laughed.

I looked toward the kitchen again.

The man was gone.

My eyes narrowed.

“Where did he go?”

“Valentina.”

“I want to speak to him.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re acting insane.”

“I am not.”

“You just pointed at a stranger and said, ‘I want that one.’”

“I know what I said.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me.”

“I tolerate you with affection.”

I smiled.

The waiter brought our bill.

I paid before Adam could reach for it.

Then we stood.

As we walked toward the entrance, I looked toward the kitchen one last time.

I didn’t see him.

But I knew one thing.

I would return.

I did not know his name.

I did not know where he came from.

I did not know why his eyes had held my attention.

But I knew exactly what I wanted.

And I had never been the kind of woman who ignored something that caught her interest.

Especially when that something looked like a god.

I adjusted my handbag and walked toward the exit.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Behind me, Adam sighed.

“You’re going to come back here, aren’t you?”

I smiled.

“Of course.”

“Why?”

I glanced over my shoulder.

“Because I want that one.”