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His Touch, Her Ruin
His Touch, Her Ruin
Auteur: B.J

Chapter One: Delivered

Auteur: B.J
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2025-07-04 16:07:33

**Amelia's POV**

It was barely dawn. I stood by the window looking at the sky from my room. The sky was a sobering reminder that I was abandoning the only house I had ever known.

A sleek black Mercedes rolled into the Romano property right before daybreak. My father was not sending me away to be married. There was no party, no hope of love or future. He was pushing me out.

Unraveling none. no parting of ways. A cold choice made behind closed doors for reasons only he really knew.

I was now handed over like a load he no longer wanted to bear, without a decision.

Even as the weight of what was going on bore heavily down on me, I did not tremble or weep. My father had not asked my opinion. He never did. Using me as his final resort to save our falling family name. Still, I wasn't being sent to any person.

They were handing me over to the most dreaded man in the city.

 I got out of my room slowly and dressed. Two men waiting for me caught my attention. They were dressed in black suits and dark sunglasses, They radiated an eerie tranquility that made my skin crawl.

They pointed me in the direction toward the automobile parked out in front of the mansion I once lived in.

One of them looked at me indifferently and said, "Get in." His voice calm and firm.

Turning back in hopes or probably foolishly, that my father might interfere, I paused for only a short. Standing at the entrance, he merely nodded once. No atonement, no regret. Dismissal of anything.

I entered the vehicle with my head bent. I knew better than to disobey my father's will even though I didn't want this future before of me.

-----------

Some called him a monster, while others referred to him as a king.

Nico Valente.

Fear permeated every sector of the metropolis his name triggered. It was not just dangerous. Few would dare traverse it. It was a boundary.

To outsiders, he seemed to be nothing more than a strong business executive. However, lurking in the shadows, Nico was a nightmare wearing well-cut suits.

What I missed then was that I was not only being kicked out.

They were bringing me To Nico.

----------

The vehicle finally stopped. One of the guys opened my door and said calmly, “This way.” The home rose huge, chilly, and dominating. The routes were poorly lighted. With every step further into its clutches, silence pressed hard on my breast.

Then he appeared.

Tall, perhaps 6'7", he descended the stairs in his sharp black suit. Tattoos that somehow enhanced his attractiveness covered his hands. Golden-tan skin and hypnotic ocean-blue eyes felt as if they could drag you under. He was absolutely beautiful.

 But everything about him emanated danger.

I shifted my gaze away from him. Reminded myself that, under that beauty rested a guy people feared for good cause.

He approached, his voice smooth but frigid. “Amelia, right?”

 He fails to even identify me?

 "You're early," he said, his voice quiet but sure.

 Trying to stand firm, not to look intimidated by him, "I did not have a choice."

He nodded ever so gently rather than responded.

"This way." He muttered. I followed him silently. Expensive artwork lined the corridor stretching before us. Still nothing seemed secure or warm.

He ushered me into the sitting area and at last said, "This is your home now."

 Defiance bubbling within me, I glanced around before turning to him. "You can't just keep me here like a prisoner in your golden cage."

 His eyes met mine, disclosing nothing. " You are not a prisoner; you belong to me now."

 His words made me cringe.

 "I did not consent to this," I remarked. Staring at him.

 Cross one leg over the other as he sat into a chair. “But your father did.”

 I retorted fiercely, "My father's choice isn't mine," then asked, "Why do you believe I belong to you?" My voice laced with anger.

He leaned forward, tapping his fingers against the armrest thoughtfully. He then turned to me and said, "I don't believe in things like that. I know it."

 He rose slowly toward me until I found myself crushed against the wall. His scent engulfed me, dark and enticing.

 "You may fight it," he murmured softly, "but it won't alter the truth."

"What truth?" I asked, fighting for air. He was just too close.

 Soft yet a risky movement, he gently tucked my hair behind my ear.

Then he whispered next to me, "You don't own your life any longer. You belong to me now."

I stuttered breath in my throat.

BANG!

 A gunshot rang out, far yet clearly heard.

 As a strong awareness spread over Nico, his head jerked toward the sound.

He grabbed my wrist and dragged me quickly down the hall before I could respond.

I barely managed to keep pace as he flung a door open and pushed me into a study.

 Stay down. Don't touch anything,” he instructed vehemently while scanning the room with hurried gaze.

 "What's going on?" My voice shook with dread.

 " Stay down. Understood?"

 "Y-Yes..." I mumbled softly in response.

 BANG!

This time the noise was considerably nearer.

Shit!

He swore under his breath, his face hardening into something incomprehensible before he turned and slammed the door shut behind him, firmly locking it.

Frozen there, my breath erratic. The silence descended upon the room once more. I moved toward the window, yet the curtains were too heavy to see through. Comfort came from my back as I gathered my arms. Staring into space.

Then something got my attention. One folder hidden under a flower vase.

His voice resonated with me. Keep your distance from everything.

Nevertheless, curiosity beat out my anxiety and I grabbed for it regardless. Shakingly, I drew open the folder.

There it was.

Dozens of photographs looked back at me. Totally me.

At colleges. In cafes. Traversing the park. Some were recent; others were old.

My chest tightened, and nausea passed across me.

Who had been observing me? And for what reason?

I found it on the following page.

Names and locations listed.

And there it was. Written in strong type, my name.

Beneath it in red ink:

 “Asset or leverage? To be determined. Do not delete without order.” signed "V".

I gasped and quickly covered my mouth. My pulse sped as I retreated, still clutching the folder.

I asked myself in a whisper cutting across the thick silence.

 Who on Earth is V? Why am I being watch?

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