chapter 3

The Contract

The white rose remained exactly where she had left it.

Moonlight spilled across the petals, turning them silver against the dark wood of her bedside table.

Valentina sat on the edge of her bed, still wearing the same clothes she had come home in.

She had not changed.

She had not slept.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the same pair of gray eyes.

"Three days begin... now."

She reached for the card again.

The thick paper bent beneath her fingers.

Once.

Twice.

Then she tore it cleanly down the middle.

Another tear.

Another.

Small pieces fluttered into the wastebasket.

Her breathing steadied.

For exactly three seconds.

Her gaze drifted back to the rose.

She snatched it from the vase.

Her fingers tightened around the stem until a thorn pierced her palm.

A sharp sting.

A bead of blood surfaced.

She stared at it.

One white petal caught the crimson drop before it could fall away.

The rose slipped from her hand.

She hated that she could not bring herself to throw it away.

A knock interrupted the silence.

"Val?"

Marco.

She did not answer.

The door eased open anyway.

He leaned against the frame, two mugs balanced in one hand.

"You haven't slept."

She looked toward the window.

Neither had he.

His shirt was wrinkled, his hair disheveled, and the stubble along his jaw was darker than usual.

He crossed the room and set one mug beside her.

Steam curled into the air.

Coffee.

Her favorite.

"I thought you could use it."

She wrapped both hands around the warm mug without drinking.

The silence between them stretched.

"I'm sorry."

She looked at him.

"For what?"

"I should have told you."

"You knew."

His jaw tightened.

"I found out six months ago."

She gave a bitter laugh.

"Six months."

"I wanted to."

"But you didn't."

"I couldn't."

She finally met his eyes.

"They would have stopped you."

He did not answer.

That was answer enough.

Valentina stood and walked to the window.

Beyond the glass, the estate slept beneath a blanket of darkness.

Floodlights illuminated the gates.

Two additional guards stood watch.

Neither belonged to the Russo family.

"They're his men."

Marco joined her.

"They arrived an hour after you went upstairs."

She frowned.

"What?"

"They said they're here for our protection."

Protection.

The word felt wrong.

She watched one of the guards pace along the fence.

His suit was black.

His posture rigid.

An earpiece disappeared beneath closely cropped hair.

He was not watching the road.

He was watching the house.

Watching her.

"This isn't protection."

"No."

Marco's voice dropped.

"It's surveillance."

...

The library smelled of old paper and leather.

Valentina slipped inside before sunrise.

She switched on the antique desk lamp.

Its warm glow barely pushed back the shadows.

A laptop sat on the desk.

She opened it.

The search bar blinked expectantly.

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard.

Then she typed.

Don Alessandro De Luca.

Hundreds of articles appeared.

She clicked the first.

Mafia Boss Linked to Triple Murder.

No photographs.

No witnesses.

Only anonymous sources.

The next headline.

The Mad Don Expands His Empire.

Again...

Rumors.

Speculation.

Nothing concrete.

Another.

Businessman Acquitted Due to Lack of Evidence.

Businessman.

Not criminal.

She frowned.

The articles contradicted one another.

Monster.

CEO.

Murderer.

Philanthropist.

Every headline described a different man.

A soft knock sounded at the open library door.

Her father stood there.

He looked as though he had not slept either.

His gaze settled on the screen.

"So."

He stepped inside.

"You're researching him."

She closed the laptop.

"You lied to me my whole life."

The words hung between them.

"I know."

"No."

She shook her head.

"You don't."

He remained silent.

She moved closer.

"Why me?"

His eyes flickered.

"What?"

"Why does he want me?"

"He wants peace."

She laughed.

"A man who leaves roses with deadlines wants peace?"

Vittorio rubbed a hand over his tired face.

"There are things you don't understand."

"Then explain them."

"I can't."

"Or you won't?"

He looked away.

The silence was louder than any answer.

Valentina stepped back.

"I won't marry him."

"You may not have a choice."

"I always have a choice."

Before he could respond, the sound of tires crunching over gravel echoed through the morning air.

Both of them turned toward the window.

Another black car.

Not an SUV this time.

A sleek black Bentley rolled to a stop beneath the front steps.

A man in a charcoal suit climbed out.

Leather briefcase.

Silver tie.

White gloves.

He adjusted his cufflinks before ascending the stairs with measured steps.

The front door opened.

Rosa greeted him with a nervous bow.

Moments later...

A knock sounded on the library door.

The butler cleared his throat.

"Sir..."

He glanced toward Valentina.

"A representative from the De Luca family is here."

The room fell still.

The lawyer entered without waiting to be invited.

He offered a polite nod.

"Don Vittorio."

Then his gaze shifted to Valentina.

"Miss Russo."

He placed the leather briefcase on the desk.

The clasps clicked open.

Inside rested a thick cream-colored folder tied with a black ribbon.

He lifted it carefully.

"The marriage contract."

Valentina did not move.

"The Don requests your signature."

She stared at the ribbon.

Then at the lawyer.

"And if I refuse?"

The man offered the faintest smile.

"Then I will return tomorrow."

He laid a fountain pen beside the folder.

Its gold nib caught the morning light.

The room was silent.

Valentina stepped forward.

She untied the ribbon.

Opened the folder.

Without reading a single page...

She tore it cleanly in half.

The sound echoed through the library.

Then again.

And again.

Cream-colored paper rained onto the polished desk.

The lawyer watched without blinking.

When she finished, she dropped the shredded pages at his feet.

"No."

He crouched calmly.

Gathered every torn piece.

Placed them back inside the briefcase.

Snapped it shut.

Then looked directly at her.

"The Don expected that answer."

He turned toward the door.

His hand paused on the brass handle.

Without looking back, he said quietly,

"He asked me to remind you..."

"...two days remain."

The door clicked shut.

Only then did Valentina realize...

Her hands were shaking.