When Valentina Russo is forced to marry Alessandro De Luca, the ruthless and dangerously handsome heir to the De Luca crime empire, she becomes a pawn in a deadly game of power, betrayal, and desire. She was never meant to be his bride her perfect, obedient sister was. But when her sister vanishes on the eve of the wedding, Valentina is thrust into a world of wealth, violence, and passion she never asked for. Alessandro is cold, possessive, and unforgiving, a man who doesn’t take betrayal lightly. He sees Valentina as nothing more than a replacement, a woman he didn’t choose but now owns. However, she’s different fierce, unpredictable, and unwilling to bow to him. And that makes her dangerous. Torn between the arrogant mafia boss who ignites a fire in her veins and his enigmatic cousin, Lorenzo, who offers her an escape, Valentina finds herself caught in a web of deadly secrets, forbidden attraction, and an irresistible war between love and hate. But in this world, love is a weakness. And trusting the wrong man? Could cost her everything including her life. Will she surrender to Alessandro’s dark desires or escape before she becomes his prisoner forever?"
View MoreValentina Russo
I was never supposed to be here. Not under this chandelier, dripping with crystals and menace. Not in this gown silk, suffocating, white like a goddamn lie. Not walking down the aisle of a gothic cathedral that smelled of blood and sanctimony. And I was definitely not supposed to be marrying Alessandro De Luca the most dangerous man in New York's underworld. That was supposed to be my sister. Serafina the golden child, the obedient one, the Russo family jewel. She smiled in rehearsals, played the part of the docile bride, and promised to save our father’s crumbling empire with her dowry of submission. But Bianca disappeared last night. No note. No goodbye. Just a shattered phone, a bloodstained scarf, and a phone call from a blocked number at 3 a.m. Only two words: "She's gone." The next morning, my father was pale and shaking, sweat beading under his temple like he’d aged ten years in one night. “You’ll take her place,” he said with dead eyes. “Or the De Lucas will kill us all.” And just like that, I became the substitute bride. Not out of love. Not even out of loyalty. Out of survival. Out of fury. And the sick feeling in my gut that Bianca’s disappearance wasn’t a runaway act. It was a warning. The doors creaked open behind me. The pews were lined with men in tailored suits armed, dangerous, and watching me like I was prey. De Luca soldiers. Capos. Hitmen. The elite of the De Luca family, all gathered to witness the farce of a wedding binding two criminal dynasties. I lifted my chin and stepped forward, heels echoing down the stone floor like gunshots. Each step was a rebellion. I felt their eyes judging me. Too loud. Too defiant. Too… wrong. I wasn’t Bianca. I never had been. And now I was walking straight into the mouth of the wolf pretending to be her. But Alessandro De Luca wasn’t fooled. He stood at the altar like a statue carved from vengeance and war tall, dressed in black, cold eyes raking over me like he wanted to tear off my skin and see who I really was underneath. His jaw ticked once. No smile. No greeting. Just silent fury. And then he leaned in, low enough so only I could hear. “You’re not her.” A pause. His breath touched my neck like ice. “But now you’re mine.” The priest said the vows. I didn’t remember saying “I do.” I barely remembered the ring sliding onto my finger platinum and heavy, like a shackle. Applause broke out like a gunfire salute. Fake. Controlled. Soulless. Then Alessandro’s hand clamped over mine and he leaned in to whisper. “Don’t smile, Valentina. You’re not a bride. You’re collateral.” The reception was in a villa guarded like a fortress. No windows without bars. No doors without men. The Russo family sat in a corner small, faded, irrelevant. The De Lucas owned the room. I sat next to Alessandro in silence while whispers echoed around us. “Is she a spy?” “Where’s the real bride?” “Did she run? Or was she taken?” I tried not to listen. But my instincts were screaming. Someone in this room knew what happened to Bianca. And I was going to find out. But first, I needed to survive the night. Alessandro stood abruptly. “Walk with me.” I didn’t argue. I followed him through halls decorated with gold and secrets. He didn’t speak until we were alone in the wine cellar, surrounded by barrels and shadows. He turned. “Do you know what you’ve done?” I didn’t flinch. “Saved your precious alliance.” His eyes narrowed. “You ruined it.” He stepped closer. “I don’t like surprises. And I hate liars.” “Then we’re going to get along just fine,” I said, “because I didn’t lie. I was forced into this.” A flash of something dark crossed his eyes. “Bianca didn’t run.” My blood ran cold. “What?” “She was taken. Last night.” I stepped back. “You think I’m involved?” He didn’t blink. “I think your family is hiding something. And I think if I squeeze hard enough, the truth will spill from your lips like blood.” I laughed bitterly. “Try it, Boss. I’ve bled before.” His eyes flickered. Not surprise. Something else. Respect, maybe? “Careful,” he warned. “That fire in you? It’ll get you killed in my world.” I tilted my head. “Maybe. Or maybe it’ll burn yours down first.” Later that night, I found a message under my pillow. “Your sister is alive. But not safe.” “Trust no one. Not even him.” No signature. Just those haunting words. And outside my window, I saw a shadow slip away into the dark… Tall. Lean. Moving like a ghost. Lorenzo. Alessandro’s cousin. And the only man in the De Luca family who looked at me like he knew I didn’t belong. He had questions in his eyes. Secrets on his tongue. And maybe just maybe answers I needed. But this wasn’t just about finding Bianca anymore. This was about choosing the right devil. Before one of them kills me.~Valentina~The mirror cracked under my scream.Not because of the volume, but because of what I saw.I no longer recognized self. My eyes were still the same olive green, but now they flickered with something dark. Something ancient. Something ruthless.The blood ritual had awakened a deeper truth. I wasn’t helpless not anymore. But strength came with a cost. And as the cold water from the marble basin splashed against my cheeks, I realized the cost was me."They want war?" I whispered to the shadows.The air didn’t answer.But the tremble in my belly the kick did.I turned from the mirror, threw on the black velvet robe, and stormed to the balcony. Below, Alessandro barked orders to his men, a pistol in one hand, a lit cigar in the other, rage dancing in his veins like wildfire."Where the f*** is Lorenzo?!" he roared.His fury should’ve comforted me. It didn’t.Because Lorenzo... wasn’t hiding.He was waiting.LorenzoPower is not given. It’s taken.I sat in the crimson chamber, th
~Valentina~ I used to believe love was the strongest tether. But fear? Fear moves faster. Cuts deeper. And right now, it’s wrapping its claws around my child’s heartbeat. We didn’t sleep after storming the west compound. We didn’t celebrate. Because in Palermo, every victory hums like a loaded gun — and every silence feels like a setup. Alessandro wanted to press again. Hit harder. But I told him no. Not this time. We needed strategy. Not just rage. So I went alone. Back to the library. Back to the gramophone. And for the first time… I played it. I let it speak. Crackling static gave way to a recording. Lorenzo’s voice — deep, composed, terrifyingly intimate. "Do you remember the dress you wore the night you thought you hated me? It was velvet. You were fire. And I knew, even then, I could burn in you." I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I took the needle off. And I called my mother’s sister in Naples. She ran with witches once. Real ones. If Lorenzo wanted to build a
AlessandroI no longer see rooms.I see warzones.Every corner of this house feels like a potential betrayal. Every floorboard, a secret. Every breath Valentina takes a miracle I no longer deserve to witness.I stood alone in the War Room.The walls bore no signs of Lorenzo. No photos. No nameplates. Nothing physical. But it still smelled like him. That old scent of smug legacy and violence in a tailored suit. The bastard was a phantom in every shadow.My reflection in the glass case looked like a man unhinged. I hadn’t shaved. Hadn’t eaten. I drank just enough to feel like I was still human."He wants her to choose," I muttered. My hand flexed. "Over me. Over this child."The rage was no longer loud. It was quiet. Focused. Vicious.I lit the file containing Lorenzo’s dossier on fire.Watched it curl and blacken.And when the last flame flickered out, I whispered, "So be it."Valentina's POVThe nights were darker now.Not because the power failed. Not because the estate dimmed.Becau
ValentinaThe days had begun to bend.Not pass. Not blur. Bend.Time in this estate didn’t move forward anymore. It curled around us like smoke, folding in on itself, pressing against my throat. I used to count time in weeks. In doctor appointments. In fetal movements. Now I counted it in incidents.Today it was the garden.The rosemary bush I’d replanted two days ago had been dug out. Not destroyed. Moved. Uprooted and placed, gently, on the stone table near the west wall. A message in roots.I didn’t scream.I stared. One hand on the child that twisted inside me like he, too, could feel the shift in the air."Something moved the rosemary," I told Alessandro when he walked in. His eyes narrowed instantly."Something, or someone?""Does it matter anymore?"He stalked past me to the garden, eyes scanning the walls, then the sky, then the trees. I watched him quietly. He wasn’t just checking for cameras.He was looking for ghosts."We need to burn the roots," he said flatly.I blinked.
LorenzoThere is something divine about waiting.Not the passive kind. Not the kind you do in lines or traffic or shallow graves. No, I mean the sacred waiting. The kind that breaks a man open and rebuilds him in silence.I’ve waited in shadows darker than death. In cells meant to swallow history. In chains wrapped in lies and steel. But nothing nothing has kept me from her.Valentina.The name tastes like smoke now. Like something burned and reborn. She walks like prophecy, swells like vengeance, speaks like fate in a silk dress. I watch her through the cracks in this empire. Through borrowed eyes. Rerouted cameras. Spilled confessions. Every whisper in the city bends back to her.They say she’s glowing.They say her belly is a kingdom.They say she’s winning.But winning is a phase. A costume.And I am no ghost.I am the rot in her roots.The lion she found? That was me.The lullaby? Me.The fingerprints no one finds, the alarms that fail, the blind spots in their security grid? Me.
Alessandro watched from the balcony as the first convoy rolled into sight: blacked out SUVs carrying men whose faces he’d never seen but whose loyalty was unquestionable. Under his command, they’d done things that would turn day into nightmares and tonight, they moved on his word.He had summoned them not to terrify the city, but to protect his future. Each one carried coded instructions, sealed under wax bearing his crest. This wasn't an act of war — it was an act of survival.He descended the marble staircase into the courtyard, the moonlight turning his footsteps into a promise. Valentina met him there, cheekbones radiant in the soft glow of the lanterns. Her gown whispered silk against stone.“They’re ready,” he said, voice low and certain. He held out the activation signal: a folded note she recognized from the council meeting.She scanned it and nodded, fear and resolve flickering in her eyes. “Let’s bury him tonight.”He laid a hand on her waist, drawing her to his side. “We bu
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