“He came for a debt. Instead, he took a bride.” Alina Moretti lost everything in one night—her fiancé, her fortune, her future. Desperate to secure her inheritance, she needs a fake fiancé. When she approaches Milan’s most dangerous club, hoping to find a willing stranger, she instead finds herself kidnapped by the devil himself. Valentino Romano, popularly known as The Devil of Milan, is the ruthless heir to Italy’s most feared mafia empire. Two years ago, Alina’s father borrowed from him, promising a repayment that never came. Now, Val is back, and he’s not interested in money. He wants her.
Lihat lebih banyak~VALENTINO’S POV~The hallway beside the grand hall was quiet, the muted strains of violin music and distant laughter filtering through the thick doors as I stood with Don Nikolai.For a moment, he simply looked at me, the weight of years and regret in his cold blue eyes. The light from the crystal sconces cut across the lines on his face, and I saw not the feared Don of Russia but a father searching for the right words.“I’ve wronged you,” he said, his voice low, rough with emotion. “Not once, not twice, but all your life, Tino.”I swallowed, my jaw tightening, but I said nothing.He let out a breath, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting mine again.“Your mother… Farah… she deserved better. You deserved better. I let power blind me, let fear make decisions I should have made with my heart, not my ambition.”I shifted, shoving my hands into my pockets, letting him speak.“I don’t know if I deserve forgiveness,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly, “but I will ask for i
~VALENTINO’S POV~“Bianca?”I stared at her in disbelief, my jaw clenching so hard it ached.For a moment, the world around me faded, the laughter and violin music from inside the hall turning to a muffled echo in my ears.Vince stepped forward, his smirk widening as he watched my reaction.“You look surprised, brother,” he drawled, adjusting the cuff of his suit with deliberate calm.I squared my shoulders, forcing air into my lungs, the tension in my chest pressing against my ribs like a vise.“I don’t have time for your games, Vince,” I said, my voice low, cold. “What’s all this about?”Vince chuckled, his eyes glinting with something dark as he glanced around the courtyard, the guests inside oblivious to the storm brewing outside.Don Nikolai stood silently behind him, observing with cold detachment, while Natasha’s red dress fluttered faintly in the breeze, her gaze sharp, hawk-like, as she crossed her arms.“You’re too serious, brother,” Vince said, shrugging casually. “Take a c
~VALENTINO’S POV~The courtyard of Palazzo dell’Amore fell into a hush so heavy it felt like the air itself thickened.Vince stepped forward, his polished shoes crunching lightly on the scattered white rose petals. His dark eyes flickered over the crowd, amusement dancing in them, as if he was enjoying the discomfort spreading like a stain through my guests.Don Nikolai stood just behind him, silent, unreadable, his icy gaze sweeping the scene. Natasha was there too, standing a step behind Nikolai, her red dress like blood against the pale marble, arms crossed, dark hair spilling over her shoulder, eyes sharp as blades.They said nothing, but their presence pressed down on the courtyard like a warning.Vince took another step toward me, adjusting the cuff of his suit, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.“Nice party, brother,” he drawled, voice dripping with amusement.I didn’t move, didn’t blink, my jaw tightening. Alina shifted beside me, her hand slipping into mine, her gri
~VALENTINO’S POV~The day I married Alina, Milan held its breath.Palazzo dell’Amore was alive with light, the grand glass dome catching the October sun, scattering it into rainbows across crystal chandeliers and endless rows of white roses climbing marble pillars.The scent of lilies and jasmine was thick in the air, mixing with the hush of the gathered crowd.Security was tight. Rocco and my men, dressed in black suits with discreet earpieces, moved quietly along the perimeter, scanning every guest, every shadow. I had ordered it.Today, nothing would go wrong.Not on her day.I stood near the altar, beneath the cascading flowers and crystal arches, my heart pounding like a war drum beneath my white tuxedo jacket. The white rose pinned to my lapel felt heavy, but not as heavy as the moment.Dante stood beside me, his usually lazy grin replaced with something tight, nervous, his eyes darting to the aisle, then back to me.“You ready?” I asked quietly.“Fuck, I hope so,” he muttered,
~ALINA’S POV~ The morning of the wedding felt unreal. We were in the penthouse suite of the Hotel Principe di Savoia, the entire five-star hotel shut down just for us. Valentino had booked every floor, every room, every hallway, turning it into a fortress of luxury for our wedding. Outside, Milan was buzzing, but in here, everything felt soft, quiet, sacred. The suite smelled like vanilla and fresh jasmine, the windows thrown open to let in the crisp October breeze. Light spilled in, illuminating the chaos around us: makeup artists, hair stylists, photographers with massive cameras, racks of designer gowns lined up along the walls. Not just any gowns. Elie Saab. Zuhair Murad. Dior. Versace. They had flown in entire teams to style me and Giulia. Valentino hadn’t spared a single euro. Giulia sat across from me in her silk robe, her hair pinned in soft curls, a makeup artist gently brushing highlighter along her cheekbones while another worked on her nails. She look
~ GUILIA’S POV~He shifted slightly, adjusting me in his lap, and I felt the warmth of him against me, the solid strength of him, the way his body cradled mine perfectly, like we were made to fit.I lifted my head, meeting his eyes as he broke the kiss.Those dark, molten eyes that always managed to see right through me, that held promises and confessions, that held me even when I didn’t want to be held.He leaned in, pressing his lips softly against my forehead, lingering there, his breath warm, his hand sliding up to cup the side of my face.“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low, reverent, like he was confessing a prayer.Heat crept up my neck, settling in my cheeks, making me look away, but he tilted my face back to his, forcing me to meet his gaze.“Don’t look away,” he said softly, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. “Let me look at you.”“Dante…” I whispered, breathless.His hand slid down, wrapping around my waist as he pulled me closer, his forehead resting a
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