Undressed By The Mafia God-Chapter 127: I Had A Great Time

Ricardo remembered the nights they had sneaked into clubs, dressed in anonymity while her reputation as the Genovese betrothed remained intact. He had been her accomplice, her confidant, her escape from the gilded cage she was born into. Their laughter, their stolen kisses, the thrill of defying rules—it had been intoxicating.

They had even dreamed together of eloping, far from the unrelenting expectations that shadowed every step Bianca took.

He had loved her. Truly, fiercely, even when he knew the odds were stacked against them. And then the world had shifted beneath his feet. The whispers, the rumors, and finally, the truth that Bianca was marrying Luciano—a calculated, politically advantageous match that left no room for his heart.

He remembered the shock, the sting, the way the air had seemed to thicken in his lungs when he heard the news. A love that had felt infinite was suddenly rendered impossible, a cruel reminder that some stories were never meant to have happy endings.

Now, walking beside Valentina, the warmth of her hand brushing his, the light teasing in her voice, he felt that old ache transform. Pain mixed with hope, heartbreak mingled with desire. Bianca was a Chapter he had closed, whether he liked it or not. Valentina was the promise of something new, something untarnished, something that could heal the fractures in his heart if he allowed himself to trust again.

He couldn’t bring himself to tell her he wouldn’t be staying.

The truth hovered at the back of his throat all day. But every time Valentina laughed, every time her hand brushed his arm in careless familiarity, the confession retreated. He was enjoying the distraction far too much. Enjoying her far too much.

And in the short time he had spent with her, he had learned something crucial.

Valentina’s world revolved around one person.

Her sister.

Veronica.

Luciano’s mistress. The woman Bianca despised. The woman Bianca suggested should die.

Ricardo had refused outright. He had laughed in Bianca’s face when she floated the idea of a hit. But he knew Bianca. She did not surrender grudges. She nursed them.

If Bianca wanted Veronica gone, she would not abandon the idea easily.

And now here he was, licking the last sweetness from his thumb beside Veronica’s baby sister.

By the time they reached Valentina’s house, their ice cream cones were reduced to sticky napkins and sugar-sweet fingerprints.

Valentina unlocked the door and turned, leaning back against the frame instead of stepping inside. She crossed one ankle over the other.

Ricardo stood in front of her, hands sliding into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for her.

"I had a great time," he said.

"Me too," she replied.

"So... uhm... can we do this again sometime?" he asked.

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully. "Ooookay, but you didn’t actually ask me out on a date."

He blinked. "I did not?"

"No. You said, hey, you wanna show me around town? That’s not a date. That’s tourism."

A laugh escaped him before he could stop it. It felt good. "Technically, you haven’t shown me around town," he countered. "You took me to see a movie. And I’m sorry, but that was a very crappy movie."

"What??? Hobbs and Shaw? Are you kidding me?"

"Sweetheart, the only thing you contributed to that film was a running commentary about how handsome the bald one is."

She gasped. "Excuse me! Jason Statham is a hottie."

"Ah," Ricardo nodded gravely. "So that’s what this is about."

"What is what about?" She narrowed her eyes, but she was smiling.

"You clearly have a thing for men with accents."

"You have an accent," she shot back instantly, pointing at him.

"Case in point."

Her lips twitched. "Who said I have a thing for you?"

Ricardo stepped toward her, closing the distance. "Don’t do that," he said quietly.

"Do what?" She held her ground, chin tilted in defiance, but her pulse betrayed her.

"Shy away from what you feel."

"I’m not..." she began, but the protest dissolved when his hand came up.

He held her chin between his fingers, lifting her face until her eyes met his. "I want to kiss you," he said.

Her lashes lowered. "Then why don’t you?"

He exhaled slowly, eyes flicking past her shoulder to the reflection in the dark glass of the door. "Because Marco is across the street glaring daggers at me."

Valentina blinked. "What?"

Ricardo’s mouth curved faintly. "He is in his car."

She twisted to look, and sure enough, there he was. Marco, still as a statue, his gaze unapologetically fixed on them.

Valentina turned back, smiling. "He’s protective."

"Protective?" Ricardo scoffed lightly. "Of what? Your virtue? I assure you, it’s in excellent hands."

"Marco doesn’t have a crush on me, if that’s what you’re thinking."

"Then why is he watching me like I just insulted his ancestors?"

"We just... spent some time together when I... was about to be..."

She stopped.

Ricardo felt the shift immediately. The air tightened. The playful tone dissolved.

"When you were about to be what?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Never mind."

He dropped his hand from her chin but didn’t step back. "Valentina."

She looked away, toward the street, toward Marco, toward anything but him. "It was a complicated time." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"I’ll see you tomorrow?" Ricardo asked.

Valentina lingered in the doorway, fingers curled around the edge of the frame. "I’ll be at the pizza shop," she said. "I need to be with my sister. She’s very worried about sales and stuff. I want to make sure she’s not stressing herself into an early grave."

"Maybe I’ll stop by," Ricardo replied.

"Maybe you will..." she tilted her head, eyes glinting mischievously, "bring ice cream if your maybe becomes definitely."

"Good night, Valentina."

"Goodnight."

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping inside. The door closed slowly, almost reluctantly.

Ricardo stood there for a breath. Then another.

Then he turned.

His shoes crunched lightly against the gravel path as he made his way toward the sidewalk. Across the street, Marco sat in his car, window halfway down, elbow resting on the frame.

(Brought to you by Jennifer Willard)