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# Chapter 4 – Valentina's POV

It is tomorrow already. My wedding day. I had hardly had any sleep last night because I keep hearing gunshots over and over again. I close my eyes, as i sit up from my bed, shielding my eyes from the morning sunlight. Like someone is watching me, five women give one sharp knock on the door and file in, lining up in a straight line on the foot of my bed.

I blink, watching all of them and their stone cold, expressionless faces. ‘Who…who are you? What do you want?’ My voice raises as I tremble, shifting backwards on my bed.

‘Boss said we should come and dress you up.’ I blink, looking at each of them, confused. The one with the huge, black box step forward.

‘For what?’

‘Your wedding.’ My eyes widen in realisation. I bite my lips and nod my head, slowly getting off the bed. The women come over, taking me to the bathroom without any word. I try to strike a conversation with them, but they only respond with hums or completely ignore me. I sigh as I go naked in front of them, not wanting to argue about going naked in front of literal strangers.

Within minutes, I'm already dressed in the white material from the box. The wedding dress. My stomach knotted at the thought that I would be married to a man whom I had no idea of and that I was tied to a mafia…a life of crimes. They keep doing something on my hair and I close my eyes shut, my fingers digging into my nail as I sob quietly.

When they are done, I stare at myself in the mirror. My hair is pulled back. My makeup is light. I look like a bride but I don’t feel like one. There is a knock on the door suddenly and a young pretty lady with dark hair and eyes that looked like her brother's, but hers are warm. She smiles at me.

‘Hi,’ she smiles, stepping in. ‘Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I'm only Dante's sister, Sophia. I only came to check up on you. You look so beautiful,’ she laughs, her eyes warm. ‘Can I sit?’

I only stared for about three seconds before nodding like a mad woman. ‘Yea…of course, yeah. Thank you…i mean…thanks.’ I stutter, suddenly feeling stupid, but grateful seeing a kind face otherr than men and maids.

‘You look beautiful,’ she says.

‘I look trapped,’ I mutter.

‘I know this isn't what you wanted.’

‘You think?’

She stands, walks over to the vanity and sits on the edge of it studying me carefully. ‘My brother… he's not good at being gentle. But he's trying to protect you.’

‘By forcing me to marry him?’

‘By keeping you alive,’ She sighs. ‘Look, I'm not saying it's right. But in our world, this is how things work. Marriage is protection. It's power. It's survival.’

I swallow hard. ‘I don't want to be part of your world.’

‘You already are.’ Her voice softens. ‘The second those men saw your face, you became part of it. Dante's just making sure you survive it. And I'll be here too if you ever need me.’

I want to argue, but the words won't come. Because deep down, I know she's right. I saw what they did to that man in the alley. I felt Daniel's gun pointed at my head. I know what happens to people like me in this world.

Sofia stands and places a hand on my shoulder. ‘For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here. Maybe you'll make him less of a monster.’

Before I can respond, she leaves.

The ceremony happens in a private room at some mansion I don't recognize. There are maybe ten people total. Marcus is there, looking guilty to the bone. Some of Dante's men stand in the back, hands folded, watching like guards.

And then there's Dante.

He's wearing a black suit, his hair is slicked back. His jaw is sharp. His eyes are cold and expressionless like ice. He doesn't smile when he sees me. He just… watches. Like I'm something he owns already.

I walk down the aisle alone. There's no music. No flowers. Just…us. When I reach him, he takes my hand. His grip is firm and tight.

The officiant speaks quickly. I barely hear the words. Something about vows and commitment and forever. I feel sick.

‘Do you, Valentina Morrison, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?’

I glance at Dante. His eyes lock onto mine. There's a warning there. I ignore it because I don't care, but my eyes flit to Marcus. His eyes are pleading and he joins his hand together, muttering a ‘please.’

‘I do,’ I whisper.

‘And do you, Dante Valentino—’

"I do." His voice is steady. He doesn't even wait for the priest to finish his words, the bastard.

The officiant smiles. ‘You may kiss the bride.’

Dante steps closer. His hand slides to my waist. Before I can process it, his lips are on mine. The kiss is firm, claiming, and brief. When he pulls back, his eyes fixes on me, cold but with something hot and burning.

There's a small reception afterward. Sofia hugs me and whispers, "Welcome to the family."

Marcus tries to talk to me, but I can't look at him. He let this happen. He stood by while I was sold off like property.

Dante stays close the entire time. His hand never leaves my back. Every time someone approaches, he's there. Watching. Controlling.

When the reception ends, he leads me to a car. I don't ask where we're going. I already know.

The penthouse is massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city. Everything is dark wood and leather and expensive art. It's beautiful and cold, just like him.

Dante walks me through the space. ‘Kitchen. Living room. Office.’ He stops at a large door. ‘Our bedroom.

Our. Oh God.

My stomach twists. He opens the door, and I step inside. The room is huge. A king-sized bed dominates the space. Everything is black and gray.

‘This is where you'll sleep,’ he says.

‘With you,’ I add quietly.

‘Yes.’

I turn to face him. ‘I can't… I'm not ready for that.’

His jaw tightens. ‘You're my wife.’

‘On paper. Not in… not like that.’

He steps closer, and I step back. He keeps coming until my back hits the wall. His hands press against the surface on either side of my head, caging me in.

‘You think I don't know you're a virgin?’ he says, voice low.

My cheeks burn. ‘How—’

‘I know everything about you, Valentina.’ His eyes drag down my body slowly, deliberately. ‘And you're going to learn everything about me soon.’ He leans closer, his breath brushing my ears, ‘In every way.’

I tremble…it's he…is he implying that…oh God.

‘One week,’ he suddenly says. ‘You have one week to get used to being Mrs. Valentino. After that, I'm done waiting.’

Relief floods through me. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don't thank me.’ His eyes are hard. ‘I'm not being kind. I'm being practical. A terrified wife is useless to me. For now.’

He leaves the room without another word. The door clicks shut behind him. I sink onto the bed, my whole body shaking. One week. I have one week before he expects me to… to…

The days go past faster than usual. Dante leaves early every morning. I hear him on the phone, speaking in Italian, his voice sharp and commanding. He comes back late, smelling like cigars.

I'm not allowed to leave. Bodyguards are stationed outside the penthouse. When I tried to go for a walk on day two, one of them blocked my path.

‘Boss's orders, Mrs. Valentino. You stay inside.’

Mrs. Valentino. The name makes me want to scream. I can't call my friends. My phone is gone. My old life is erased. I'm a stupid cage in the name of marriage.

Sofia visits on day four. She brings books and tries to make conversation, but I can barely focus. She tells me about her life, about growing up with Dante, about their mother's death. I listen, but it all feels distant.

‘He's not always like this,’ she says. ‘Cold, I mean. He used to laugh. Before… everything.’

‘I don't care,’ I mutter to myself because I studied psychology. I know about all these things.

She gives me a sad smile. ‘You will.’

On the seventh night, I'm in the bedroom when I hear the front door open. My heart starts pounding. I know what tonight means. I know what he's coming for. I hear his slow, steady footsteps in the hallway.

The door opens.

Dante stands in the doorway, loosening his tie. His eyes find mine immediately. There's something dark in them. Something hungry.

‘Week's up,’ he says.