Valerio's Secretary

Chapter Thirteen: The Unraveling

Zara’s POV



The apartment is silent when I finally get home. Liam is fast asleep, one small arm wrapped around his stuffed wolf. I stand in his doorway for a long time, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, guilt twisting like a knife in my gut. Another night, I have missed putting him to bed. Another night, Valerio had kept me at the office until I was running on fumes and memories I can’t afford to drown in.

I kiss his forehead softly and whisper, “Mommy’s sorry, baby. I’m trying to fix this for us.”

Mrs. Rivera has already gone home, making the living room feel too empty. I pour myself a glass of water and sit at the small kitchen table, pulling out the encrypted USB from my bag. My hands still tremble slightly from the night’s events.

Valerio’s touch lingers on my skin. The way his fingers had brushed my neck, the heat of his body behind me as we reviewed documents. The raw need in his voice when he asked why everything felt familiar.

I plug the USB into my laptop and continue what I had started in the records room earlier. The files are fragmented, but pieces are coming together.

Project Sentinel.

Valerio was building a case against massive internal fraud; shell companies, inflated contracts, millions siphoned off by a small group of board members and senior executives, and I helped him. I remember the late nights we spent going through documents, the way he used to pull me onto his lap when the stress got too heavy, kissing my neck and murmuring that we’d bring them all down together.

Sei mia, Zara,” he had growled against my ear (You’re mine). “Only mine.” Every powerful stroke had scattered more papers across the floor while he claimed me completely, both of us chasing release after another long night fighting the corruption that was slowly poisoning his company.>>

I close my eyes, heat flooding my body even now, making my thighs press together involuntarily. God, I miss him. The real him, not this colder, sharper version they have rebuilt after the accident.

I force myself to keep reading. One partially recovered email chain makes my blood run cold. It is from three years ago. The sender’s name has been wiped, but the content is clear: “They’re getting too close. Cruz and the girl have evidence that can bury all of us. The accident needs to look natural. Remove her completely afterward. No traces.”

My hands start shaking.

They actually wanted both of us gone.

I was in the car with him that night. We both sustained injuries, but he slipped into a coma, and after I was discharged, Luca helped me disappear before the people responsible could finish what they started.

I copy everything I can and delete the search history. My investigation is yielding dangerous pieces, but I still don’t have enough solid proof to confront anyone. Not yet.

The next morning comes too soon.

I drop Liam off with an extra tight hug and drive to the office with heavy eyes. Valerio is already there when I arrive, his door open. He looks like he didn’t sleep much either, hair slightly tousled, jaw shadowed with stubble, sleeves rolled up. He looks devastating.

Our eyes meet the moment I sit down. The tension from last night is still there, but thicker now. He watches me with that intense, unsettled hunger that makes my stomach flutter, and my heart ache at the same time.

By midday, he summons me into his office for another review session.

“Close the door,” he says without looking up.

I do.

He comes around his desk and stands directly behind me as I pull up the latest files on the large monitor. His presence is overwhelming. Heat radiates from his body, and his cologne wraps around me.

“Show me the adjustments you made,” he murmurs, voice low.

I start explaining, but my focus fractures when his hand settles on my lower back, firm and possessive. His thumb moves in slow circles just above the waistband of my skirt.

“Valerio…” I breathe.

“Keep going,” he says, but his hand doesn’t stop. It slides lower, resting on the curve of my hip. “I’m listening.” His voice is flat and cold, as if his hand on my body means nothing at all.

I can’t. Every nerve in my body is attuned to his touch, which makes another flashback hit me hard.

>

I shiver visibly.

Valerio notices, and his grip tightens on my hip. “You’re thinking about it too, aren’t you?” he whispers against my ear. “Whatever’s happening between us…your body feels it too.”

I turn my head slightly, our faces dangerously close.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, even as I lean back into his touch.

His other hand comes up, bracing on the desk beside me, caging me in. “Then tell me to stop.”

I can’t.

His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Dimmi di fermarmi, bella” (Tell me to stop, beautiful).

Instead of pushing him away, my hand covers his on my hip. For a moment, we stay like that, breathing each other in, the line between past and present blurring dangerously.

Then I force myself to step away.

“I need some air,” I say, voice unsteady.

Valerio doesn’t stop me, but his eyes burn with frustration as I leave his office.

I spend my lunch break in a quiet corner of the building, continuing my quiet investigation on my phone.

By evening, Valerio’s obsession shows in small ways. He changes another deadline at midnight, summons me back, and watches me constantly. During our late session, he stands behind me again, hand on my lower back, body heat making me dizzy. The flashbacks keep coming, and the tension keeps building.

And with every new piece of the fraud I uncover, the danger grows closer.

Clara is watching me, and the people responsible for the accident are still somewhere in this building or beyond walking freely. And Valerio? He’s getting dangerously close to remembering the woman he once loved more than his own empire.

And somehow, I don’t know how much any of us can survive the unraveling of it all.