Liberate Yourself (The Desires Unlocked Trilogy Part One)

by Evie Blake

  LIBERATE YOURSELF

  Evie Blake

  Copyright 2012 © Evie Blake

  © Luisa Mandelli, Antonio Giovanni Crepas, Caterina Crepas and Giacomo Emilio Crepas 2012

  Freely inspired by the character Valentina created by Guido Crepax

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  Previously published in 2012 in print and ebook editions by Headline Publishing Group under the title VALENTINA

  First published in this ebook edition by Headline Publishing Group in 2013

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN: 978 1 4722 1854 4

  Cover design © Grietpearl/Shutterstock

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  338 Euston Road

  London NW1 3BH

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  Also by Evie Blake

  About the Book

  1. Belle

  2. Valentina

  3. Belle

  4. Valentina

  5. Belle

  6. Valentina

  7. Belle

  8. Valentina

  9. Belle

  10. Valentina

  11. Belle

  12. Valentina

  13. Belle

  14. Valentina

  15. Belle

  16. Valentina

  17. Belle

  18. Valentina

  19. Belle

  20. Valentina

  21. Belle

  22. Valentina

  23. Belle

  24. Valentina

  25. Belle

  26. Valentina

  27. Belle

  28. Valentina

  29. Belle

  30. Valentina

  31. Belle

  32. Valentina

  33. Belle

  34. Valentina

  35. Belle

  36. Valentina

  37. Belle

  38. Valentina

  The Desires Unlocked Trilogy

  Evie Blake is from London. She is married with two children and is currently busy writing her next novel. For more about Evie Blake visit her website www.evieblake.com or follow her on Twitter @EvieBlake1

  Also by Evie Blake and available from Headline:

  The Desires Unlocked Trilogy

  Liberate Yourself

  Lose Yourself

  Surrender Yourself

  The Desires Unlocked E-Short Story

  Unlock Yourself

  About the Book

  For fans of FIFTY SHADES OF GREY and BARED TO YOU comes LIBERATE YOURSELF, the first in an erotic, emotionally charged and addictive romance trilogy.

  Valentina lives with her lover, Theo Steen, in Milan. They have an explosive sexual connection . . . but are they in love? As Valentina questions her true feelings for Theo, she finds herself drawn into Milan’s shadowy, sensuous underworld – one which allows her to explore her deepest desires.

  In Venice in 1929, Belle is trapped in an unhappy marriage and plays out her most erotic fantasies by living a secret life as a courtesan. Yet she is only truly free when she falls wildly, passionately in love.

  Valentina and Belle are two women living in different times, each poised on the brink of a passionate, all-consuming love affair.

  Belle

  THEY CARRIED HER NAKED DOWN TO THE WATER’S EDGE. They laid her down upon the still warm sand, her feet facing the sea. She could feel it lapping against her ankles as if it was another lover leaving icy kisses upon her toes.

  The night was moonless, but a few stars gleamed, tiny pins of hope, tears within her heart. It was so dark she couldn’t see their faces any more. She felt as if she were spinning out of the real world and into another cosmos. A place inhabited by her fantasies. Her companions had become something other than mere men. They were shadow creatures pulsing with their need, their desire. Although she was out in the open, by the sea, she could just as easily be inside a dark cave or a blacked-out room. She was a little frightened, but not enough to want to stop. She was becoming like them: her other self.

  Valentina

  VALENTINA PUSHES HERSELF UP ON TO HER ELBOWS AND gazes at her lover. Six months they have been living together. She leans over and carefully arranges her arm across Theo’s back. She loves to do this while he is sleeping, when he doesn’t know how she likes to imagine the two of them together, and all that could be possible. Tenderly she strokes his flawless skin, letting herself express a rare moment of affection. It is a gesture she is careful never to make when Theo is actually awake.

  Valentina examines her flaxen whiteness against the sallow colouring of Theo Steen, and considers what a perfect contrast the two of them are. She is as pale and fine boned as her beloved twenties icon Louise Brooks. He is dark skinned, more sultry than any Latin lover she has ever known, yet with disturbingly bright blue eyes. It would make more sense if it were she who was dark. She is after all the Italian, while Theo is from New York, his parents Dutch immigrants. She doesn’t know much about his background, but it appears very different from hers. He is close to his parents, both of them, and to Valentina’s eyes his childhood was charmed. So much attention and expense lavished upon him. Theo is an accomplished cellist, equestrian and fencer, as well as speaking a myriad of languages. He could have gone into any profession he chose. He is one of those men she thought would irritate her. A privileged high-achiever who doesn’t need to worry about making a living, and can indulge full-time in his passion – the study and analysis of modern art. Yet she did not dump him at the first opportunity, as she thought she might; instead here he is in her bed, lost in the innocence of sleep right beside her. He is living with her.

  Valentina looks down at her sleeping lover. Theo is lying on his stomach, his head turned away from her. She wonders where his dreams take him. She wonders if he will wake with the memory of her touch upon his skin. Last night she wanted to make him come so much, and yet strangely she had no desire to have an orgasm herself. This is not usual for her, not very Valentina, she thinks. Even now she is not demanding morning sex. At some point does the passion fade? If you took away the sexual desire between her and Theo, would there be nothing left? Strangers before their union; and strangers again afterwards. Is it time to end it? No, not yet, a voice begs inside her head, and she tries to swallow her anxiety. She is panicking unnecessarily. This is just all so new to her, to be cohabiting.

  She has never shared her apartment with anyone else, not since her mother left. It still startles her how easily it all fell into place, the fact of Theo moving in. She knows why she asked him. It was a knee-jerk reaction to her mother’s warning. Is he using her? Instinctively she rejects the suggestion. He was so hesitant about accepting her offer. Asked her several times if she was sure. There is something different about him. Already he has seen her at her lowest, and he didn’t leave.

  Valentina knots the end of the sheet around her finger, pulls it tight. A ring of white cotton pinching her flesh, making her bite her lip. It’s because he doesn’t take anything for granted, she thinks; despi
te his easy life, he never stops trying to please her.

  She lies back down on the bed and smiles up at the ceiling, studying each glinting crystal of the chandelier as she dwells on last night. She tentatively runs her tongue over her lips. She can still taste him. She savours the saltiness of her lover as she recalls how she caressed him with her mouth, pushing him as far as he could go, not stopping despite his plea to be inside her. She would not allow it. She wanted everything to be focused on him. And so she kept on going: licking, teasing with her teeth, flicking her tongue around his length and squeezing his velvet hardness tight between her lips. She needed to feel his abandon inside her mouth. His vulnerability, and her power. She had taken him over the edge. And when Theo cried out her name, it was like a flare to her heart. Burning her and yet warming her at the same time, filling her with the dual sensations of fear and satisfaction. How could that be? Normally she doesn’t like her lovers to speak, let alone cry out. She always insists on making love in silence. She hates false proclamations of love, uttered in the heat of passion. Yet Theo called to her, and deep down inside her there was an answering echo, despite her conscious denial. Now the salty flavour of him lingers still upon her lips. No wonder she dreamt of the sea. She closes her eyes and pushes away unwanted images, her smile fading. But they resurface, these disjointed sensations from her dream. Sinking under water, unable to swim up to the light; darkness, suffocation.

  ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

  She opens her eyes. Theo is lying on his side, his head resting on his hand, his clear blue eyes studying her.

  ‘I had a bad dream last night.’

  He pulls her towards him, and she lets him fold his arms around her. She closes her eyes and feels his chin as he rests it on the top of her head.

  ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ he asks, his voice muffled against her hair, but she doesn’t reply, not immediately, and he doesn’t push her. It feels so good to be held in her lover’s arms; she doesn’t want to take them back to her nightmares, ruin a fresh new day with her baggage.

  ‘No,’ she says.

  ‘Okay, darling.’ He kisses the top of her head. The endearment trips off his lips so easily. Can he really mean it? She finds it hard to do the same, the words sticking in her throat. Darling. She stiffens in his arms, wanting now to push away from him. Theo gently unravels his body from around her, as if sensing her need for distance.

  ‘I’ll make some tea,’ he says, getting out of bed, studiously avoiding eye contact. She watches him in all his glorious nakedness as he strides across the room. He wraps her silk dressing gown around himself, but it only adds to his manliness, emphasising the masculine contours of his body. She feels a stirring below her navel, deeper, deeper, as she watches him walk out the door. Why did she chill in his arms? Now she would like to make love.

  She glances at the clock. It’s already after seven. She should be getting up; she has a busy day ahead, yet still she cannot stir from the sanctuary of their bed. She yawns and stretches, awaiting Theo’s return with the tea. She is glad she didn’t blot this morning with her narcissist fears.

  Valentina isn’t fond of the past. She has never understood the obsession amongst her contemporaries with relationship transparency, the need to dredge up your personal history and expect your lover to share it. It bemuses her how so many young women want to manipulate their boyfriends through pity. The last thing she wants is to be a victim. No, it is better to never look back, always maintain a little mystery. She believes you should keep your secrets to yourself. That has always been her motto. And yet . . .

  She can’t get Gina Faladi’s words out of her head. Said in all innocence, of course. Gina is a sweet person, if a bit too submissive in Valentina’s opinion. She has seen the way she lets her boyfriend, Gregorio, boss her around. God knows what he is like under the covers. Yet despite this, Gina is one of the best make-up artists Valentina has ever worked with. Last week they flew to Prague together to do a fashion shoot for Marie Claire. It was on the way home, after a couple of glasses of wine on board the flight, that Gina asked her the question that now keeps circling inside her head like a big black cat.

  Where does he go?

  That was what Gina said. Valentina was about to reply that she had no idea, and so what, she and Theo didn’t do jealousy, but when she saw Gina’s eyebrows beginning to arch, she changed her mind.

  Work. She took a sip of her red wine. Going to exhibitions. Meeting artists. Buying art, she expanded vaguely. A good excuse, and who knows, possibly true. But the fact of the matter is that Valentina has absolutely no idea where her lover disappears to once a month and for several days at a time. Yes, there have been articles and reviews, and before he met her, two books had been published, one on German expressionism and one on futurism in Italy in the twenties, but there is not nearly the volume of work one would expect from such a globetrotting art critic. And what is he doing in Milan? His part-time lecturing at the university hardly provides a good income. Surely he could get a better position in a university back in America? Yet when she asked Theo why he was in Italy, he avoided answering her, waving his arms around like a true Italian and stating vaguely that it was where he needed to be right now. Every day she expects him to tell her he is going home. And yet here he is, still based in Milan nearly a year after she met him.

  In the beginning, Valentina didn’t care where Theo went. In fact during the first couple of months of living together she looked forward to his little disappearances. She couldn’t help doubting her rash offer, and blamed her mother’s words for pushing her into making it.

  ‘Don’t let him possess you; that’s what they all want to do. And for God’s sake don’t move in together.’

  As usual her mother had taken the wind out of her sails. What had induced Valentina to call her anyway? She had been on some kind of a high, after the first few exciting weeks with Theo, and she had had this foolish urge to share it with her mother. She had even sat up half the night to wait for a good time to call her in the States. Yet of course she should have known better. Instead of being happy for her, all her mother could see were the negatives.

  ‘Valentina,’ she warned, ‘you and I, we’re not able to give ourselves up totally to just one man. We need space. I learnt that the hard way, honey. Don’t rush into anything.’

  Her advice made Valentina furious. She was not like her mother, who was vain and self-centred, an attention-seeker and unable to share, even with her own children. She had to prove her wrong. So that very evening, much to Theo’s astonishment, she invited him to move in with her. Why not? His landlord had just given him notice, and he needed to find a place to live anyway. Her apartment was huge and cost her nothing, since it belonged to her mother. They were to be flatmates, she told him, who happened to have sex together. The incongruity of her proposition made him laugh and call her a crazy woman. Even so, he accepted.

  Yet if she is honest with herself, Valentina has to admit that she is afraid her mother could be right. She finds it hard getting used to compromising. She and Theo rarely argue, and they have similar tastes in music, food and art, yet it is the little things that get to her. She likes the bedroom door open at night, and a light on in the hall, whereas Theo prefers complete darkness and a closed door. She likes silence when she works, and he plays music. Usually it is something they both like, but occasionally he puts on music from the eighties that her mother loved – Joy Division, The Cure – way too loud so that she can hear it even when she is in her studio or in her darkroom developing pictures. It always makes her grit her teeth. And sometimes he talks too much. He is careful not to talk about himself, or push for too many questions about her mother (something other lovers all end up doing, which puts her off them instantly), but he is obsessed with discussions. It could of course be on art, or a film they might have just seen, and that is fine. But Theo also loves to get stuck into talking about current affairs, economics or history. He is constantly quizzing her on Italian politics. Wh
at do people think of Mussolini now? What happened to her family during the Second World War? Valentina has no interest. She had a stomach full of politics when she was a child. Her mother’s bedtime stories of what had happened to her father’s family during the war were enough to put her off for life, as well as her mother arguing over the rights and wrongs of communism with her brother Mattia, on the rare occasions she saw him. Somehow she equates the clash of her parents’ ideologies with the reason why her own father left all those years ago. Valentina doesn’t like idealists. Those who neglect their own families for the sake of the common good. Theo seems more pragmatic; how can he not be with his upbringing? And yet when he starts talking about the world and hope for change, it makes her edgy. Does he notice the tightness around her mouth as she sets it in an uncommunicative line, the clench of her jaw as he pushes her to give an opinion? It is no coincidence that usually the very next day Theo will announce that he is heading off on a work trip, as if he knows she needs to be on her own.

  Valentina has always been used to solitude. She grew up as if she was an only child, since Mattia was thirteen and away at school by the time she was born. Her father left before she was old enough to remember him. Even Mattia claims he doesn’t know where he is. So it was just her and her mother, who taught her from an early age to be self-sufficient. When she was very young, Valentina’s mother took her with her on her photographic assignments, and the long hours spent waiting turned her into an avid reader.

  Once Valentina was thirteen, her mother left her behind in Milan, claiming she didn’t want to disrupt her education, but Valentina suspected that it was because she didn’t want her teenage daughter cramping her style. All the men loved Tina Rosselli. She was an icon in her world of glamour and style. To her credit, she never hid her age, but to be accompanied by a glaringly younger version of herself was a little too much for her vanity to bear. Thus Valentina would spend whole weeks at a time on her own in the apartment, her only company her mother’s sulky cat, Tash. She remembered bringing Gaby back with her one Friday after school, and her friend’s complete astonishment when she realised that Valentina had been alone all week. It was a fact she was careful not to broadcast when she was in school.