~Alina~

   A slow, steady beeping sound pulled me from the darkness. 

  My head throbbed and the air smelled different.

    I woke up slowly, my eyes adjusting to the soft light from the chandelier above me. 

  The bed beneath me was too soft, the sheets cool against my skin.

    As I turned my head, the rest of the room came into focus: furniture, heavy velvet curtains partly covering tall windows, and shiny black tiles.

    This wasn’t my room.

    A chill ran down my spine as last night’s memories hit me.

    I had been kidnapped.

    Panic shot through me and I tried to sit up, but my movements felt restrained and uncomfortable.

    My hands flew to my chest, gripping the unfamiliar fabric and as I slowly looked down, a violent shiver ran through me.

    I was wearing a pristine white lace wedding gown.

    My breath hitched.

    What. The. Hell?

    A scream tore from my throat before I could stop it.

    The door burst open, and three women hurried in, dressed in identical black and white uniforms. Their heads were bowed as they approached, their movements careful and elegant.

    Maids, most likely.

    “Ma’am, is something the matter?” one of them asked.

    I stared at them, my heart hammering.

    “Where am I? What the hell is happening? Who are you? And why—” I gestured wildly at the gown “—am I wearing this?!”

    The maids exchanged confused glances before one of them gave me a soft, almost pitiful smile.

    “You must still be disoriented from last night. It seems you had a little too much to drink.”

    My mouth fell open.

    Drunk?! I never drank. What nonsense.

    The maid continued, her tone gentle, as if she were speaking to a child.

    “We’ve been ordered to prepare you. Today is your wedding day, after all.”

    My blood turned to ice.

    Wedding day? Hell no!

    Yesterday was supposed to be my wedding day. Not today.

    Before I could demand answers, a deep, smooth voice cut through the room.

    “Excuse us.”

    The maids immediately stepped aside, their heads lowering in silent obedience.

    I turned toward the door.

    And my entire body locked in terror.

  He stood in the doorway, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that hugged his tall, broad frame. 

  His black hair was cut short on the sides with the top left longer, tousled stylishly in a way that drew attention to his chiseled jawline and sharp cheekbones. 

  His golden eyes burned into mine, sharp, stormy yet hypnotic.

  Expensive cologne and something dangerous filled the air as he approached the sole of his shiny shoes barely making a sound against the floor.

  Behind him, several guards loomed, their expressions blank and their presence threatening. But they halted as he crossed the threshold, radiating something far more menacing than all of them combined.

    My breath stilled.

    I had never seen this man before, yet my gut screamed that he was the one who kidnapped me.

    He had to be.

    A tremor ran through me as I inched back on the bed, grabbing the nearest pillow like a weapon.

    “Stay away from me!” I yelled, my voice breaking.

    “Who are you? Why did you kidnap me? What do you want from me?”

    He didn’t answer.

    He simply chuckled, the sound deep and amused, like I was nothing more than a silly little thing throwing a tantrum.

    His smirk sent a cold chill down my spine as he strode toward me, his presence swallowing the room.

    Instinctively, I clutched the pillow tighter, stretching it at him like a gun.

    “I said stay back!”

    He stopped at the edge of the bed, tilting his head slightly.

    “That’s a pillow, dummy.”

    Before I could react, he flicked my forehead lightly, the action so unexpected that I jolted.

    Then, just as easily, he yanked the pillow from my hands and tossed it aside before taking a seat, completely unfazed by my fear.

    His audacity left me speechless.

    “Open the drawer,” he instructed, his voice slow but commanding.

    “What?”

    His golden eyes darkened. “Don’t question me.”

    A shiver ran through me at the warning in his tone.

    My fingers trembled as I reached for the nightstand, pulling open the drawer. Inside were two brown envelopes.

    “Take them.”

    I did. My hands shook as I opened the first one.

    My stomach twisted painfully as I scanned the documents.

    It was an agreement. A contract.

    Between my father and a man named Valentino Romano.

    My breath caught in my throat.

    My father… had borrowed an absurd amount of money from this man six months before his death. 

  And the terms were brutal.

   If he failed to repay it within two years, Valentino had the right to seize three of his properties.

    The paper nearly slipped from my hands.

    Why?

   Why would my father take out such a loan? What had he been planning before he died?

    I lifted my gaze, my lips parting in disbelief.

    “What is this?”

    He leaned back lazily. “Your father owed me.” His tone was casual, as if we were discussing the weather.

    “He couldn’t pay before he died. Afterward, the banks confiscated his properties and wealth for… reasons I can’t disclose.”

    “What reasons?” I demanded.

    He smirked. “I can’t tell you.”

    My hands curled into fists. “Yes, you can’t! Because you’re lying! Stop pretending you knew him.”

    His expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze sharpened.

    “I knew your father, Luca Moretti. I knew your mother, Cindy Moore Moretti. I know the truth behind their deaths. I know you live in Toronto, that you attended Soreheights College of Medicine. That you studied nursing. I know you were engaged until two nights ago. That you were supposed to be married yesterday.”

    A cold weight settled in my chest.

    He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

    “I know your friend Jade and your fiancé Ethan have been deceiving you for years. I know you came to Italy to visit your grandmother, Nana.”

    My entire body turned to stone.

    He stared at me, completely calm.

    “I know everything about you, amore.”

    I couldn’t breathe.

    Who the hell was this man? How did he know so much about me and my family?

    And the truth behind my parents’ deaths…Everyone said it was an accident. Was that a lie?

   Valentino continued, “I don’t care how righteous you think your father was. What matters is that he owed me. And now, you’re going to pay his debt.”

    My pulse spiked. “How am I supposed to afford that kind of money?”

    “You can’t,” he said, smirking.

    “That’s why I’m offering you a deal.”

    He gestured to the second envelope.

    “Check it.”

    My stomach twisted as I opened it.

    My blood ran cold.

    A marriage contract?

    My eyes flew to his in horror. “What! You want me to marry you?”

    “Yes. Be my wife for six months. Our wedding is set for 10 a.m. today.”

    His lips curled into a smirk.

    “That’s the first payment of your father’s debt. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

    “Hell no!” I shot up from the bed, wobbling slightly.

    “I’d rather chew glass!”

    Valentino chuckled. “Funny, considering you were out last night looking for a fake fiancé.”

    My breath hitched.

    How does he know that?

    He rose to his feet, slipping his hands into his pockets. 

  “You don’t have a choice because this isn’t a request, it’s an order. Sign the papers, the car is waiting.”

    I shook my head furiously.

    “No. I’m not interested, thanks.”

    He smirked. “Your grandmother and cousin are already on their way to the venue. Don’t keep everyone waiting.”

    “What?” I screamed, my eyes popping out in horror.

    He arched a brow.

    “Why so surprised? Didn’t you promise to bring your fiancé to her? I did you a favor. Don’t be an ingrate.”

  I blinked at him in disbelief.

   But he was right after all, Nana is still waiting to meet my fiancé. 

  Seems like I truly had no choice.

    I don’t know exactly who he is, but he’s definitely dangerous and I guess there’s no escaping him.

   And then there’s what he said about my parents’ deaths. 

  He knows something—something no one else has ever mentioned. If I marry him, I can get close, learn the truth.

    He didn’t say anything about the inheritance, which means he’s unaware.

    Good.

    I just have to be his wife for six months. Secure the inheritance, get the information I need, then disappear.

    That’s it.

    With trembling hands, I reached for the pen on the nightstand, my fingers cold and unsteady.

    My voice barely came out, a whisper of defeat.

    “I agree.”

    The tip of the pen scraped against the paper as I scribbled my signature, sealing my fate.

    I swallowed hard, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat.

    “I’ll marry you.”

~Valentino~

I stretched out a hand to her, my gaze locking onto her perfect, full-figured body. For some reason, I had always preferred curvier women. Society glorified tall, thin women with sharp cheekbones and endless legs, but that wasn't what I wanted.

I wanted a woman with flesh, softness, and curves that could handle a man like me.

Alina had all that and more.

Her rich, dark hair cascaded past her back in loose waves, framing a heart-shaped face. Her bright green eyes were filled with fear, an emotion that, for some reason, intrigued me. Her full lips trembled slightly, and her porcelain white skin had lost its color from shock.

The maids had dressed her while she was unconscious to avoid any delays, and I had to admit, they did a damn good job. The fitted silk dress hugged her curves perfectly, cinching at the waist before flowing elegantly to the floor. The makeup they applied made her look more mature, stripping away the innocence her bare face carried.

She didn't move.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. Women were so damn troublesome.

If not for the loyalty I owed Padrino for pulling me out of the gutters of Toronto and giving me a better life, I would have killed him, overthrown him, and taken his place as Don instead of dealing with this hassle.

Without a word, I bent to her eye level.

She flinched slightly.

"Why so scared? I don't kill," I murmured, reaching out and tucking a loose strand of her silky hair behind her ear.

My voice turned colder.

"Unless you steal from me, owe me, or stress me like you currently are."

Her breath hitched. Fear crept into her expression like a cornered rabbit realizing it had no escape.

Good.

This was exactly why I chose her to be my wife-gentle, naive , and timid. Seeing her cower before me was exactly what I wanted.

"I have important things to attend to after this wedding, and I won't let you delay me with your sluggishness."

Without warning, I gripped her waist and hoisted her into my arms in one swift motion.

She let out a soft gasp, her hands instinctively clutching my shirt in fear.

I sent her a deadly glare. "Let go."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"If you stain my shirt, I swear I'll wash it off with your blood."

She yelped and released me immediately.

I smirked.

Carrying her out of the room, I strode into the courtyard of my mansion, where a convoy of blacked-out SUVs was already waiting. The moment Rocco spotted me, he rushed over, his usual stone-cold demeanor slightly tense.

"Boss, there's an emergency."

I adjusted Alina against my chest, my expression flat.

"I told you no business today. I don't want any disturbances."

"Yes, sir, but it's urgent. The Capo of-"

I raised a hand, silencing him. Alina was too timid. If she realized who I truly was before the wedding, she might panic and make things difficult.

Rocco understood immediately, lowering his voice as he whispered in my ear.

"The Capo of the Cortés Crew is causing trouble in Toronto. Andre reported that his men were spotted at Milan's airport. I think he's here for you."

I scoffed.

"That weakling? Ignore him. This is my city. He won't make it past the airport. Padrino has men stationed everywhere."

"Yes, sir." Rocco bowed and opened the limo door.

I placed Alina inside the limo, watching as she nervously adjusted the silky folds of her dress. She was jittery, biting her lip, her hands smoothing over the fabric as if she could iron out the tension crawling up her spine.

I smirked, leaning back into the plush leather seat.

The ride was silent, but I could feel her fear thick in the air, suffocating.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out a sleek, rose-gold phone. Without a word, I handed it to her.

The moment her fingers touched the device, her eyes widened.

"My phone!" She snatched it from my hand like a drowning woman grabbing a lifeline.

"Thank God. I thought I lost it last night."

She scrolled through the screen rapidly, her expression shifting-relief, then confusion, and finally heartbreak.

Her shoulders tensed. Her breathing hitched. Then soft, muffled sobs.

I exhaled through my nose, the sound sharp in the silence as I turned to her slowly.

"What's this nonsense about? Are you trying to ruin your makeup?"

She didn't answer.

Patience was not my virtue. I grabbed the phone from her hands with a sharp tug. Her head snapped up, but I wasn't looking at her anymore.

My gaze had landed on the screen, taking in the image before me. It was a wedding picture of her friend and her ex-fiancé.

I scoffed. Pathetic.

"There's nothing to cry about. He doesn't deserve you." I tossed the phone back onto her lap and turned my attention to the view outside.

"But I still love him."

The words sent a bolt of irritation through me.

I turned to her sharply, my voice cold and clipped.

"Shut up!"

She flinched.

"You're getting married to me in a few minutes. How dare you cry over another man-a weak, broke man at that."

Her eyes locked with mine, glossy with unshed tears, before she quickly looked away, sniffling softly.

The limo fell into silence.

I finally turned, resting my fist on my temple, already dreading the rest of my days. Killing the Don of the Russian mafia was far easier than having a woman in my life.

Just six more months, and I'll finally be free from her when Padrino steps down for me.

Everything remained quiet until a soft clicking sound broke through the silence.

The noise was subtle, but my ears were trained to pick up every little detail.

I turned back sharply, my voice tinged with irritation.

"What the hell did you just do?"

Alina wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks, her chin lifting in defiance.

"Pictures. I want them to know I got married to someone better."

I stared at her for a moment, an unfamiliar flicker of pity stirring inside me.

If only she knew-I'm not better.

"Delete it."

"Why?"

I sighed. Women were so damn talkative.

The Cortés Crew was in Milan. If she posted that picture, they'd find me in an instant. This wedding was low-key for a reason. I didn't need my enemies knowing I now had a weakness.

"Just do it. I don't like my pictures on social media."

"I won't delete it," she said stubbornly, "but I promise not to post it."

I glared at her in silence. She was disobeying me?

Forget it.

It was just some pictures. Let her keep them.

By the time we pulled up to the Milan Community Registry Hall, Alina had calmed slightly. The old building stood tall before us, its stone weathered but still looking strong.

I stepped out first, adjusting the cuff of my Brioni suit before turning back to her.

Her hesitation irritated me, but I held out a hand.

"Here."

She placed her trembling fingers in mine, and I led her inside.

The hall was adorned with dark marble floors, towering chandeliers, and heavy velvet drapes.

Padrino was already inside, dressed in a charcoal suit, his presence as commanding as ever.His sharp eyes assessed me, then flicked toward Alina before he gave a slow nod of approval.

Alina's face lit up when she spotted her grandmother and cousin waiting near the front.

A rare, genuine smile stretched across her lips and something unfamiliar stirred in my chest.

Why did I care? I looked away.

The officiant began the formalities, and everything went smoothly. Within minutes, we were declared married.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped her lips.

I turned to her, my voice low and teasing.

"No backing out now, moglie[wife]."

She shot me a glare, but before she could speak, a deafening explosion rattled the hall.

The chandeliers trembled and the floors shuddered beneath us.

What the fuck?

I spun sharply, my hand already reaching for the gun holstered inside my jacket.

Rocco, who had been guarding outside, rushed in, his face grim as he approached me.

"Boss, we're under attack!"

Impossible. This wedding was kept a fucking secret.

Unless-

My head snapped toward Alina. She stood frozen, eyes wide with horror.

I took one step toward her, my voice low and lethal.

"Did you post that picture?"

She swallowed, guilt flashing across her face.

"Yes... I wanted to make them jealous."

Fucking hell.

"You stupid woman!" My rage ignited like gasoline. I seized her wrist in a bruising grip, dragging her forward without a second thought.

Gunfire erupted around us. The sharp crack of bullets echoed through the hall, screams blending into the chaos.

Padrino-where the fuck was he? He was too old and too weak to be caught in this fight.

I turned sharply, my eyes locking onto him. He stood near the front.

"Padrino!" I barked, pushing Alina toward cover.

"We're under attack. I need to get you to safety."

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded without argument.

I moved fast, gripping his arm as I led him toward the exit. His steps were steady, but I could feel the tension in his body, the way his shoulders stiffened as bullets tore through the marble walls behind us.

"Who betrayed us?" His voice was low, dangerous.

Alina whimpered beside me, her body trembling.

I didn't answer.

I just tightened my grip on her wrist and kept moving while my eyes scanned for Alina's family. They were just guests, I couldn't allow them to be involved in my mess.

I didn't make it to the door when a thick voice cut through the chaos.

"Well, well. Look who's running-the Devil of Milan himself."

I turned.

El Dorado. The Capo of the Cortés Crew.

He stepped forward, a predator's smirk playing on his lips. The bastard was dressed like he was attending a gala, not orchestrating a bloodbath.

"You thought you could kill my men over five kilos of shipment and walk away?" he mused.

"You took five of my finest soldiers. Now, I'll lay them to rest with the blood of your beautiful bride and your precious godfather."

My grip tightened on my gun.

"You have a lot of guts coming to attack me in my territory, Dorado," I said coolly.

"But I'll let this slide. I'm not in the mood for bloodshed today. Let's talk. You and me. These people are innocent."

El Dorado tilted his head, then c*cked his gun, pointing it directly at us.

"So were my men."

The gun fired.

I barely had time to react before Alina's scream tore through the air.

"Nana!"

Her grandmother had stepped in front of her, taking the bullet meant for her.

My chest clenched.

Another shot rang out, louder than the rest, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

I turned just in time to see Padrino stagger, his body jerking as the bullet struck. A crimson stain bloomed across his charcoal suit, spreading fast.

His sharp eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his knees buckled.

"No!"

~Alina~

"No... no, no, no," I sobbed, my vision blurred by tears. My hands trembled as I cradled Nana's lifeless body, her warmth fading with every passing second.

Guilla knelt beside me, wailing and rocking back and forth. The chaos around us continued-the sound of bodies dropping, bullets whizzing through the air, and men shouting orders in Italian.

Through my haze of grief, I saw him. Valentino Romano-The devil I had just married.

Drenched in blood, his white shirt was now crimson. His face was stone cold, void of remorse, void of anything human. His dark eyes burned with something raw, something terrifying.

As I watched, he lifted his gun, aimed it at the man who shot Nana, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

The man collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.

Valentino didn't even flinch. He turned and killed another. Then another.

I had never seen a man so merciless, so terrifyingly lethal.

The Devil of Milan.

I knew he was dangerous, but I never imagined he was this man. I had heard so many stories about him back when I visited Milan with my dad.

He was a man who never hesitated to stain his hands red. A man who could slaughter dozens without blinking.

I shuddered, clinging to Guilla as I sobbed.

Then he turned to me.

His dark gaze locked onto mine like a predator setting sights on its prey. My stomach twisted with fear, but before I could move, he was in front of me. He gripped my arm and yanked me up with a force that sent a jolt of pain through my shoulder.

His fingers dug into my skin.

"You stupid woman."

I gasped, struggling against his grip, but he was too strong.

"How dare you?" His voice was low and lethal, vibrating with fury.

"I told you not to post those fuckiing pictures."

I opened my mouth, but he wasn't finished. His rage was volcanic, ready to erupt.

"You ruined everything." He yanked me closer until our faces were inches apart. His hot breath fanned against my cheek, heavy with the scent of blood and alcohol.

"You killed my Padrino. The only man I ever called father. And for what? To make someone jealous?"

A sob tore from my throat, but his words ignited something in me. Something buried under fear and grief for too long.

Enough.

I had enough of men controlling me. Enough of being treated like a weakling.

I clenched my fists and lashed out.

"It's not my fault!" I screamed.

"If you hadn't dragged me into this mess, my grandmother would still be alive! If you hadn't forced me into this damned marriage, she wouldn't have been here to die in the first place!"

His grip tightened around my throat, cutting off my words.

My pulse pounded as he slammed me against the black SUV behind me. The cold metal bit into my spine.

"Say that again," he whispered, his voice eerily soft. His fingers curled slightly, pressing just enough to make me feel his power-but not enough to hurt me. Just enough to make me know he could.

I trembled, my breathing shaky, but I refused to back down.

"It's your fault," I hissed.

"And I will never forgive you for it. I'll make you pay."

Something flickered in his eyes.

For a moment, I thought he would snap, that he would crush my throat in his rage. But instead, he let out a low, humorless chuckle.

"Make me pay? Then I have to keep you alive until you do, moglie."

With that, he shoved me away like I was nothing.

"Rocco, take her back to the mansion," he ordered.

A lanky, dangerous-looking man grabbed my wrist. Before I could resist, two more men seized me, dragging me away.

I screamed. Fought. Kicked.

But it was useless.

The last thing I saw before Guila and I was shoved into a waiting car was Valentino standing in the middle of the blood-soaked chaos, his dark eyes colder than death itself.

🌸🌸🌸

It's been eight hours since I was locked in this lavishly furnished room, but it feels like a cage.

Guilla was with me, curled up on the couch, sobbing softly. My own tears had long dried, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in my chest.

Why?

Why had my life turned into this?

I had lost everything-my home, my freedom, my family. All because of him.

A dark resolve settled in my bones.

I would make him pay. I would find a way to take back my life.

Before I could spiral further into my thoughts, the door creaked open.

Two guards entered. Their suits were crisp, their expressions blank.

"It's time," one of them said.

I frowned. "Time for what?"

Neither of them answered. They stepped forward and grabbed my arms.

Panic flared in my chest. "Let me go!"

They ignored me, dragging me toward an adjoining room. My struggles were futile as they pulled me inside what looked like a bathing chamber.

A sleek, sunken marble soaking tub awaited, filled with steaming water. The scent of exotic oils curled through the air, thick and intoxicating.

They handed me to the maids who stripped me naked instantly.

Humiliation burned my skin as they washed me, rubbing fragrant oils into my hair and body. I wanted to fight, to scream, but I had no strength left.

Somewhere in the background, I heard the maids whispering.

"She's lucky."

"Do you think she can handle him?"

"No woman ever does."

Their hushed words sent a chill through me.

What the hell did that mean?

After they finished, they dressed me in red silk lingerie-if it could even be called that. The barely-there fabric covered almost nothing, and I shivered as cool air brushed against my exposed skin.

A towel was wrapped around me, and before I could say a word, they dragged me out of the bathroom and toward a room where guards stood at the entrance.

It was definitely Valentino's room.

"No," I breathed.

"Leave me-"

They shoved me inside and shut the door.

The room was dimly lit. The scent of blood, whiskey, and something darkly masculine filled the air, wrapping around me like a noose.

Then came the sound of heavy footsteps.

The door yanked open, and Valentino stepped into view.

I froze.

His once-white shirt was soaked in blood. His jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up, revealing inked forearms dusted with fresh crimson.

He looked like a demon risen straight from hell.

I could barely breathe.

I had to get out of here.

The moment his attention shifted from me to the whiskey decanter on the side table, I bolted.

I spun on my heel, gripping the towel tightly around my body, and sprinted for the door.

I barely made it two steps before strong arms caught me from behind.

A gasp tore from my throat as he wrenched me back, his grip like iron around my waist. My body slammed into his chest, and the heat of him-searing and dangerous-wrapped around me.

"Where do you think you're going, moglie?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Is this how you dare treat your husband on your wedding night?"

I thrashed against him.

"Let me go, you devil!"

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through my back.

"Let you go? After everything you've done?"

His grip tightened, and before I could protest, he threw me onto the massive bed. My breath punched from my lungs as I landed on the soft mattress. The towel slipped off my body.

I scrambled up, but he was faster.

His hand shot out, grabbing my ankle and yanking me down before straddling me.

"Stop!" I clawed at his arm, kicking wildly, but he barely flinched.

He reached for the silk rope coiled at the foot of the bed. My stomach plummeted as he expertly wound it around my wrists, securing them above my head.

Panic flared in my chest.

"Val-"

"Shh." His smirk deepened as he tightened the knots.

"You're not going anywhere, amore."

I writhed, but the rope held firm. He moved lower, capturing my kicking legs with another length of rope, spreading them just enough to leave me vulnerable.

His gaze slowly dragged over my naked body, making my skin crawl with disgust.

A smirk curled his lips.

"Perfect."

My pulse thundered as I glared at him, my breath coming fast.

"You bastard!"

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. My breath caught as he pulled it off and tossed it aside without a care, revealing a body that looked like it was sculpted from stone.

My gaze landed on a tattoo stretching from his back to his shoulder, winding down his left arm in bold black ink. His chest was strong and well-built, his broad shoulders lined with network of veins and muscles.

He leaned closer, his golden eyes holding mine, daring me to look away.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed, my voice shaking as tears streamed down my face and my body trembled. But he didn't stop. His blood-smeared hands reached for me, brushing my cheek.

A warm drop of blood splashed onto my collarbone, sliding slowly down the curve between my breasts.

"I should ruin you for what you did today," he murmured, dragging a thumb over my bottom lip.

"But don't worry, moglie," he murmured, his voice dark and smooth as sin, before prying my legs wider with a dangerous, possessive hold.

"I'll show you mercy."