LOGIN“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.
View MoreAlina’s POVShe turned my hand over with the gentlest touch, cradling it between both of hers as though it were made of glass.Her thumbs brushed lightly along the edges, then settled in the center.For long minutes she was silent, the only sound the soft scratch of her fingernail tracing my life line, my heart line, the faint branches and islands that crisscrossed my palm.The room felt smaller, quieter. Even the wind outside seemed to hush.Then she spoke, her voice low and certain.“Your husband is a powerful man.”My heart lurched.I stared at her, my mouth dry. How could she possibly know that?“Yes,” I managed. “He is.”She gave the tiniest nod, her eyes never leaving my hand.“I do not want to know his name. I do not need to know who he is. But what I see here…”Her finger followed a strong, unbroken line that curved toward my wrist.“He carries great weight. Power, yes, but also pressure. Heavy pressure. It presses on him every day, and because you are bound to him, heart, bod
Alina’s POVShe halted mid-stride on the snowy pavement, then turned slowly back to me.That big, warm smile spread across her face again, crinkling her eyes until they almost disappeared into the folds of skin.“Now how could I say no to that?” she said, voice soft and amused.For a long heartbeat, neither of us moved.Snow kept drifting down in lazy spirals, catching on her kerchief and the shoulders of my coat.Then she lifted one trembling hand toward me.“Vieni, nipotina mia (Come, my granddaughter),” she said, her throat thick with sudden emotion.A tiny giggle bubbled out of me, childish and lighter than anything I’d felt in days.I stepped forward, took the battered wicker basket from her fingers, and slipped my arm through hers.“Sorry, Nana, but you’re not escaping me now. We’re going to your house. First, I’m taking you grocery shopping.”She let out a small, knowing sigh. “I knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer about the groceries. Va bene (I accept).”I helped her into
Alina’s POVI slowly turned to face her, still on my knees in the thin layer of slush, and there she was standing over me now, small and bent.Her smile was soft, the kind that reaches the eyes first and stays there, crinkling the deep lines around them.Snowflakes had caught in the gray wool of her kerchief and in the wispy silver strands that escaped it, glittering like tiny diamonds in this frozen Milan afternoon.That smile undid me all over again.Fresh tears rushed up, hot and unstoppable.I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, trying to hold them back, but they spilled anyway, freezing on my lashes before they could fall far.“Come mai lo sapevi? (How did you know?)” I whispered, my voice breaking.She reached down with both hands, small and knotted with age, and took hold of my shoulders.Her grip was surprisingly firm and steady.She lifted me gently, as though I were something fragile she didn’t want to break.“Vieni qui, tesoro (Come here, treasure,)” she said, pulling
Alina’s POVThree days had crawled by since Giulia’s words sliced me open in the courtyard, and I still couldn’t look at her without feeling the sting all over again.Val had tried. God, how he’d tried.Every evening he’d come to me with that quiet, pleading voice, pulling me into his arms, murmuring, “Moglie mia, let it go. She was scared out of her mind. She loves you.”But how could I? If my closest friend, the woman I called sister, could throw my deepest wound in my face in front of everyone… what were the others whispering behind closed doors?What did the guards think when they passed me in the halls?What did Val, my own husband, really feel when the Council kept pressing him about an heir?Did he blame me, even a little?When the nights grew quiet and he thought I was asleep, did he stare at the ceiling wondering why his queen couldn’t give him the one thing he wanted most in life?I swallowed the tears that kept threatening to spill and gripped the steering wheel tighter.O






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