Page 3 of Veil of the Past
Val’s voice comes over the intercom and the small red dot near the camera makes it obvious that she can see me; it’s a new installation that Emiliano had done after getting Valentina back from her family. “Allie! You’re the first to arrive for movie night. Come on up.”
Once she presses a button on her end, the elevator starts to go up. I hold the small apple pie pan close to my chest My curtain bangs stick to my forehead, and I fight the urge to push them away. The elevator finally stops, and the doors slide open, revealing the open floor plan of Eli and Val’s penthouse. As I step inside, the city stretches out before me through towering floor-to-ceiling windows, a glittering expanse of lights that always manages to make my breath catch. The room is a sanctuary of warmth and elegance, bathed in a soft, golden glow that contrasts beautifully with the cool night outside. The warm smell of cinnamon rolls wafts through the open space, and Val greets me with a hug.
I let out a light laugh into her soft dark waves. “Hello to you, too.”
She pulls back and gives me a sheepish grin before saying, “Sorry, I’ve just missed you so much. You’ve been crazy busy taking over the new role at the hospital.” We make our way into the kitchen, and I put the pie down on the counter.
“I know, I wish I wasn’t that busy. But work over at the hospital never stops. Enough about me, how have you and Eli been?” I ask her.
“We’ve been good. Emiliano has been extra busy the past couple of weeks,” she says as she moves around the kitchen trying to have everything ready before everyone else arrives. I pull my red curls up into a ponytail, grab the bag of gummies, and empty them into a small ceramic bowl before placing it on the turning tray. Valentina grabs the other plates, one of some bagel bites, another has some pretzels and cucumbers with a side of hummus, and she places a small plate of cheese, grapes, and crackers down as well. The soft notes of Bach’s “Air on the G String" float across the entire apartment. Val and I look at each other before giggling.
“Does he always play that?” I ask as we move into the living room. I place the turning tray on the coffee table.
“What? Classical music?” she asks, and I nod as I sink into the plush sofa, feeling the luxurious fabric beneath my fingers. Glancing around, I take in the perfectly arranged details—the carefully placed books and the inviting lounge chair by the window. Val continues, “Yes, he’s very much a pretentious asshole—regardless of who’s here and who’s not.” Eli suddenly comes from behind Val and wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her into him.
Kissing the top of her head, he mutters, “I may be a pretentious asshole, but I’myourpretentious asshole.”
The soft platinum rings twinkle in the soft light of their penthouse, and as Eli hands Val and me each a flute of red wine, I ask, “Have you guys set a date for the wedding?”
Eli’s the one to answer me. “Not exactly, you know how this one can be so indecisive, but we’re thinking November.” Taking a sip of the deep, dark wine, I notice notes of blackcurrant and blackberry, unfolding like a dark whisper on my tongue. There's a velvety smoothness to it, with a hint of vanilla and oak that lingers even after I’ve swallowed.
“November? Wouldn’t it be too chilly by then?” Val shrugs at my question, but before either of them can answer, the elevator doors slide open, and in walks Romiro. He’s in gray sweats, his wet blond curls sticking to his forehead. His sleeve of tattoos are on full display. Eli walks over to him, and they whisper under their breaths about something.
Valentina looks at me, a brow raised as if to ask what they’re talking about. I shrug and take another sip of my wine. She does the same before setting her glass on the coffee table and making her way toward Romiro. “Hi, how are you Rom?” she asks him as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into a bear hug. I hide my smile behind my glass of wine. I still can’t believe how fast we’ve all become close with Val. The past year and a half has been hell for all of us. With the death of my uncle, Alberto, and Emiliano taking Valentina captive, I didn’t think we’d ever be the way we used to be. I guess I was right in a way; we never truly recovered, but somehow, we became a collection of broken pieces glued together, holding each other close.
I grab the TV remote, switching the device on and flipping through shows and movies until I seeLucifer. Romiro plops down next to me as I linger on the series, and he reaches for the remote out of my hand, but I slap him away.
“Ouch. Hello to you too, Allie.”
“Hello, Romiro.” I keep it short, my eyes drifting to Valentina to see what she thinks. “Wanna watchLucifertonight?”
She raises a singular brow. “I wish, but Mariana is coming over tonight as well. The name alone would give her a heart attack.”
I snort, “Never mind the name.” Val’s face breaks out into a wide grin, and she wiggles her brows at me. I shake my head at her, and we exchange a few more looks before Romiro butts in.
“The fuck? Are you two fucking telepathic or somethin’?”
I’m about to answer when Valentina replies, “Yes, Romiro. We’re discussing Lucifer’s smoking-hot abs.”
Of course, in true Romiro style, he says his next words with a slight smirk. “You know I have even sexier abs, right?” Both Val and I snort and shake our heads.
“Stop talking about your abs, Romiro, nobody cares,” Eli says as he pours some of The Macallan Fine & Rare 1926 whiskey.
“You may not care, but I’m sure these two fine young ladies do,” Romiro argues, making me roll my eyes. I click out of Netflix and move to another streaming service.
“What aboutFather of The Bride?” I ask Val as she moves to the penthouse’s control panel to see who’s trying to come up.
“How about we wait for everyone to come up, and then we’ll all decide?” she suggests as she presses her thumb to the control panel.
“That’s fine.” I flip through the available movies to see what options we have for tonight, and Romiro leans back, draping his arm over the couch behind me. I tense a bit before relaxing again. His fingers gently tug at the ends of my hair, just enough to notice, but not enough to hurt.
“Hi, Red,” he whispers, his baritone voice vibrating deep within his chest. That familiar heat in my lower gut starts to rise, and his eyes leave a trail of fire as he looks at me.
“Hi, Romiro,” I whisper back.
“How have you been?” he asks, his voice only loud enough for me to hear.
“I’ve been busy. What about you?” I keep my answer short.
