The Hitman's Mark

18. Memories

VALENTINA

Val mindlessly poked at her cacciatore dinner, spreading the chicken and vegetables across her plate to give the illusion that she'd eaten.

She'd never liked the traditional cuisine, but her father loved it. As a girl, whenever her father requested a cacciatore dinner, Val's mother always asked the family's chef to cook a spare plate of spaghetti for her picky daughter. Years later, Val still disliked cacciatore, but her mother wasn't around to save her.

"I disagree," Uncle Adriano drawled, shoveling a bite of tomato and chicken in his mouth. "Milan doesn't have a shot at winning the title this season. Napoli's too strong."

"You're wrong," her father argued, wiping at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "Leão is in top form. He'll lead the league in goals."

Her uncle and father had spent the last twenty minutes discussing Serie A, the Italian football league. Val didn't follow the sports league or have enough willpower to pretend to be interested in their conversation, unlike Lara.

The physician-turned-girlfriend laughed at every lame joke, appeared concerned when Adriano expressed doubt for the family's favorite team, and ate every damn piece of chicken that Leonardo piled on her plate. Val might've pitied the young woman if she didn't appear so mindlessly happy.

Almost three weeks had passed since the Romano raid on the Belyaev trafficking scheme, and Val had spent almost the entire time bouncing between her family's mansion and the townhouse in downtown Scarsdale. Although she tried to keep herself busy with work for her father at the mansion, she occasionally had no choice but to interact with Lara. And, despite her best efforts, Val found no shortcomings in the woman.

Lara was young and beautiful, and she clearly made her father happy. She doted on Leonardo, but, more than once, Val heard her father asking the young physician for advice on business affairs. Lara had a strong, intuitive mind.

In any other circumstance, Val probably would've liked the woman. They might've even been friends. But Val couldn't accept Lara, even though she'd done nothing to deserve her hate. Lara's only fault was that Leonardo appeared head over heels in love with her.

And Val couldn't stomach the sight of her father's happiness. Not because she wanted him to suffer, of course. Rather, she didn't want her father to forget his first love – her mother. Just like the rest of the world had seemingly forgotten her.

"You okay, kid?" Adriano murmured in Val's ear, and her eyes shot up from the scattered cacciatore on her plate.

Lara and Leonardo seemed to be having their own conversation across the table, laughing quietly about one thing or another. Val hadn't realized their football conversation ended.

She nodded, forcing a smile on her lips as she set her fork aside. "Just not very hungry," she lied. "Big lunch."

"That's funny," Adriano hummed and took a long sip of his red wine. "I seem to remember seeing you by the pool all afternoon, pouring over my brother's newest investment proposal. Didn't look like you even took a break to blink, let alone eat a big lunch."

"I'll blink when I've gotten rid of my fiancé," Val hissed, for Adriano's ears only. "My month is almost up."

Indeed, the days for Val to prove herself to her father dwindled. She had roughly four days left until the end of her month, and her father hadn't spoken about their deal once. Still, she didn't stop–wouldn't stop–until her father made his choice.

"Well, you have my vote," Adriano whispered back, and his support brought a rare, genuine smile to Val's lips.

Val returned her attention to her fork and considered spearing a mushroom with it when her father's voice boomed across the table.