Chapter five

Valentina’s POV

A few days later, the Santini Corporation was holding its large fundraising gala at the Grand Harbor Hotel, one of the most expensive and exclusive venues in the whole city. The ballroom was packed with wealthy investors, important socialites and powerful business leaders. I didn't want to be there. The only reason I ever walked through those heavy brass doors was because the director of my law firm had personally requested me to represent our team for the evening. It was my last official act before my resignation became effective and I departed the city for good.

I stood at a quiet corner table with a glass of sparkling water and watched the crowd. Marco arrived from across the room, with Serena on his arm. They looked like a carefully posed power couple for the photographers. Serena was in a silver custom-made gown that Isabella Santini had picked out for her personally, and Marco was in a sharp tuxedo.

Serena did not take long to spot me.  Across the room, her painted lips curled into a cruel smirk and her eyes locked onto me. She dropped Marco’s arm, muttered something to a group of socialites nearby, and then came directly to me with an entourage of sorts in her wake.

“Well, look who decided to crash the party,” Serena said loudly, her voice rising above the soft background music. “The spare twin.

Some of the guests near us chuckled. I kept my face completely neutral, not wanting to give her the pleasure of an angry response. "I'm here for work, Serena," I said evenly. “Just go on with your evening and leave me alone.

“Work?” Serena laughed fake and mocking, stepping into my personal space. "Oh, stop. You’re tracking Marco. Everybody here knows it. It's actually sad, Valentina. We have the same face. And yet you could not even keep a man. You were never anything but a temporary placeholder. You're a lesser, duller, uglier copy of me and you just can't stand that he chose the real thing."

My chest was calm, without any agitation. Her insults, which might have stung me a week ago, now sounded like the desperate noise of an insecure child. I didn't say anything back. I just turned around and walked away from her.

The moment I turned my back Serena grabbed hold of my wrist. Suddenly and violently she pulled me backwards shoving my shoulder. My high heels stumbled and I grabbed the edge of the display table for balance.

Before I could even get my bearings, Serena threw her own body to the polished marble floor. She dropped hard to her knees, grabbed her own wrist and let out a dramatic scream that curdled blood. 

"Ah! Somebody help me!" she shrieked, tears instantly welling up in her eyes. "Why did you shove me, Valentina? Please, don’t beat me up! Sorry Marco loves me!"

The whole ballroom went silent. Dozens of heads turned to look at the corner table.

Before I could say a word I heard heavy footsteps running across the floor. Marco pushed his way through the crowd, his face white and panicked. He saw Serena on the ground, sobbing, and didn't even ask what had happened. He charged at me, blind with instant rage. "What's wrong with you? Marco yelled.

He grabbed my bare arm and pushed me back with all his strength. My heels slipped on the polished stone and I fell hard on the marble floor.

 My knees hit the hard ground with a sharp, burning pain, and I felt the fabric of my dress rip open at the right leg. My palms scraped on the cold, rough edges of the stone floor, stinging sharply.

I looked up, breathing hard, my hands smarting with pain. Marco stood above me, his face contorted with pure disgust and anger.

"You are just a jealous, pathetic woman!" Marco pointed down at my face for all the room to see, snarling. You simply cannot accept that nobody wants you! You are quite mad!

I looked past his angry face and behind him I saw Serena sitting on the floor. She watched me over her fingers, a little smirk of triumph on her lips as she pretended to cry. I turned to face the crowd. Isabella Santini was in the front row, watching her son humiliate me in front of everyone, without uttering a word to stop him.

 Bianca and the rest of Marco's wealthy party stood in utter silence beside her. Some of them grinned. No one in the room came forward to help me as I knelt on the freezing stone floor, my palms scraped and my dress torn.

 “Valentina, you are a disgrace,” Marco shouted, raising his voice even louder so the entire ballroom could hear every single word. "You should leave my life as you came in!"

Suddenly the doors at the main entrance of the ballroom burst open with a deafening bang.

Every head in the room turned toward the entrance. Dante Ferraro walked through the doors. He was flanked by two large professional bodyguards in dark sunglasses and wore a perfectly tailored black suit that radiated a quiet, undeniable power.

The ballroom fell suddenly to a heavy, stifling silence. Even the music in the background. Cut off suddenly. There was a nervous whisper near the front tables that swept through the crowd like wildfire.

"Is that... Dante Ferraro?" a man whispered loudly. "The billionaire? “Ferraro Group’s head?” another socialite gasped. “Why is he here? Isnt he Marco's long lost step uncle?? :P Marco's late stepfather's younger brother?"

“Yes,” someone whispered back. “But the Santini family never talks about him. Years ago, after that bitter family falling-out over the shares in the company, he cut himself off from them."

Dante’s dark eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, roved the silent ballroom. It only took him two seconds to find me kneeling on the floor, my dress torn and hands scraped. The cold unreadable expression on his face changed instantly to something dark and terrifying and dangerous.

He began to cross the room in long measured strides. Every business leader, every socialite who crossed his path instinctively took a step back, leaving a wide swath of silence in his wake. He didn't look at the crowd. He walked right up to Marco, stopping just inches from him.

Dante looked his nephew straight in the eyes, his voice sharp as an ice blade slicing through the quiet room. “Who dares to put their hands on my fiancée?”

Marco’s face went white. He froze, his mouth opening in fright. In the crowd, Isabella’s jaw dropped in sheer shock, her hand flying to her chest. Behind Marco, Serena sprang to her feet in a panic, her fake tears a distant memory as she stared at Dante in disbelief.

A loud wave of gasps and murmurs of shock went through the whole ballroom.

Dante didn’t wait for Marco to get his voice back. He completely ignored the Santini family and got down on one knee next to me. His dark face immediately softened as he gently reached out and took my scraped hand in his own.

 "Are you alright, Val?" he asked softly. "I'm fine now," I whispered, holding onto his warm hand.

Dante helped me to my feet with a tenderness that had the entire crowd staring in disbelief. He reached out and brushed the dust from my sleeves, his big hands careful not to touch my scraped palms. Once he was sure I was standing steady his posture stiffened again. He turned slowly to face Marco, and his stare was so terrifyingly cold it could freeze the champagne in every glass in the room.

...“Uncle Dante...” Marco stammered, his voice shaking violently as he took a step back. “Wait, please. This is a big misunderstanding. I didn't know...she attacked Serena first, I swear I just was trying to stop her-"

Dante raised a single hand to silence Marco. The silence that followed was thick and cold. “Listen to me very carefully, Marco,” Dante said, his tone low and even, but echoing clear across the entire room. "Your company exists solely because the Ferraro Group allowed it to exist, whatever the family of Santini thinks it is. And touching Valentina was the single worst choice you've ever made in your miserable life."

Marco swallowed hard, his whole body trembled with fear, he could not speak a single word in defense.

Dante did not give him a second look. He wrapped his strong arm securely around my waist, pulling me close against his side.