(VALENTINO'S POV)
Steam rolls off my skin when I push the shower door open. I grab a towel and drag it through my hair first, then down my shoulders and chest. My skin's warm, still buzzing from the heat of the water.
I wrap the towel around my waist and stop in front of the fogged-up mirror. The glass is nothing but a blur until I swipe my palm across it. My reflection stares back, finally looking more like me again. I lean closer, studying my face. The bruises along my ribs have faded to a faint purple. The gashes on my face are just thin, pale lines now.
Throughout the entire time I was in the shower, the one thought in my mind was that this dinner is going to be a shitshow.
The second I sit at that table with Raffaele, everything's going to go sideways. Angelo will play mediator, like he always does, but the truth is… I don't see the point. My relationship with Raffaele is too far gone. Too much blood. Too much pride.
I'm only doing this because she asked.
