LOGINOne fake kiss made me his wife. Now, it might get me killed. I wanted out of my father’s mafia world. I had a plan, a bag of cash, and a new life waiting. But then I met Dante Moretti. To help him spite his ex-wife, I agreed to play his fiancée for just five minutes. It was the biggest mistake of my life. My father saw us. Before the night was over, he made it official: marry Dante in seven days, or people I love start dying. Dante is cold and dangerous, and hates my family name. He thinks I’m just a spoiled princess he can lock away. He doesn't know that I’ve been secretly sabotaging his business for months and that I’m his biggest enemy. Now I’m trapped in his house and sharing his bed. I’m supposed to hate him, but every time he touches me, the line between acting and reality blurs. This is my reality; I'm joined by the Blood Oath to a man who might be my only hope or my end.
View More( Aria's point of view )
I never thought my freedom would be stolen by the kiss of a man.
I was in a ballroom attending a wedding. In this wedding was a gathering of elite people who looked like royalty but they had enough blood on their hands. To everyone else, I was Aria Valenti, the diamond of the Valenti family. They saw me as the silent, dutiful daughter. But to myself, I was a ghost halfway out the door.
My thigh holster pressed uncomfortably against my skin beneath the green gown I was wearing. I didn't care about the drinks or the noises the people made. My mind was on the encrypted drive hidden in my clutch, containing the last few thousand dollars I needed to disappear forever from this city I so much hated.
"Don't look so bored, Aria," my father, Lorenzo Valenti's voice came from beside me. He gripped my elbow just a little too hard. "Smile. We are here to show strength, not your teenage depression."
"I’m twenty-one, Father. And it’s hard to smile when I’m surrounded by people who would kill me for a seat at your table," I hissed while flashing a fake grin at a passing senator.
"That is the world you were born for," he replied with his eyes scanning the room. "I’m going to get a cigar. Stay in sight. If you disappear again, your friend Elena will find her flower shop burned to the ground by morning."
Typical Dad. The threat hit me like a blow. Elena was my only tie to the world of the living, the world I loved filled with people who didn't kill for a living. I watched my father walk away, my heart pounding heavily. I needed to find a way out but I was trapped by his words in a cage made of gold.
I went toward the balcony to get some air. That's when I saw Dante Moretti. The famous Dante Moretti.
He was standing near the staircase, looking like a god in a room of mere mortals. Handsome man, tall, with dark.
But something was off. I could tell with the way he was scanning the room with the panic look on his face.
Then I saw why.
A woman in a red dress was moving like a peacock toward him. She was so beautiful. This was Isabella, the woman who had famously broken Dante Moretti’s heart and leaked his family’s secrets to the feds two years ago.
The large room suddenly became a graveyard and people were expecting something to happen.
Dante Moretti, the heir to the Moretti empire, the rivals my father hated most, looked like he’d rather be facing a firing squad than Isabella. He looked around wildly then his eyes stopped when he saw me.
I shouldn't have made eye contact with him because in my world, eye contact is an invitation to war.
Before I could blink, he was moving. He moved through the crowd towards me like he was a predator until he was inches from me. The smell of tobacco came with him.
"Help me," he whispered with pain in his voice.
"What?" I started to say, but the word was cut off.
He grabbed my wrist and with a sudden, forceful tug, he pulled me and we were chest against chest.
I gasped with my hands instinctively finding his shoulders to push him away, but he was like a wall.
"Just two minutes," his breath touching my lips. "I’ll pay you... I'll pay you anything."
Then, he hurriedly kissed me like he was waiting to for decades. I never knew he had nothing left to lose. My first instinct was to reach for the knife on my thigh and gut him right there. I was a Valenti meaning nobody would dare touch me without my permission.
But as he was kissing me, i felt the sheer desperation in him. He wasn't trying to assault me, he was hiding behind me from the woman who wanted to destroy his pride.
I felt someone stop behind him. Isabella. I could practically hear her heart hardening.
"Dante?" she called angrily with disbelief. "What is this?"
Dante didn't pull away. Instead, he deepened the kiss, his hands rubbing my wrist and my back, pulling me so close I could feel my breasts on his body.
Slowly, I relaxed my hands on his shoulders. If I caused a scene, my father would come running, and a war would start in the middle of a wedding. If I played along, maybe I could use this Moretti brat for my own escape.
I kissed him back. A biting kiss. Then I was certain I was as dangerous as he was.
When he finally pulled away, he didn't let me go. He kept his arm rounded firmly around my waist, anchoring me to his side. He turned to Isabella, his face with arrogance in his face.
"Isabella," he said with a steady voice. "I didn't see you there. I was a bit... distracted."
Isabella’s face squeezed. Her eyes were placed suddenly on me, full of venom. "And who is this? Another one of your little flings to try and forget me?"
Dante gripped me tighter. I could tell he was flinching on the inside. I couldn't have that. If I was going to do this, I was going to win.
I leaned my head against Dante’s shoulder and looked Isabella up and down with the bored expression I’d spent years perfecting. "I’m the woman who replaced the girl you used to be," I said with a voice more poisonous than hers. "Dante doesn't talk about the past. He’s too busy enjoying the present."
Dante’s head sharply turn toward me with shock in his eyes. He hadn't expected me to speak or play along. Isabella looked like she wanted to slap me, but she couldn't, not with half the Mafia underworld watching. She turned and stormed away with her heels clicking on the marble floor.
"You can let go now," I said softly, trying to pull away from Dante's hold. "The show is over, Moretti."
"Wait," he whispered, his eyes on mine. "Who are you? I’ve never seen a girl fight like that with just words."
"I'm your worst nightmare," I said, finally breaking his grip. "And you owe me. You owe me big time."
I turned to leave, thinking the drama was finally over.
"Well, well," a voice resonated. "I leave my daughter alone for ten minutes and she finds herself in the arms of a Moretti."
I felt sick in the stomach.
My father was standing there with an unreadable face, flanked by four of his most loyal soldiers. Behind him was Dante’s uncle and the rest of the Moretti leadership were approaching.
This was the moment where blood usually started flowing.
"Lorenzo," Dante said, stepping in front of me with a tall posture. His protective instinct kicked in even though he barely knew my name. "This isn't what it looks like."
"Isn't it?" My father stepped closer, his eyes locked on Dante. "I saw the kiss, boy. The whole room saw it. You just claimed a Valenti daughter in front of the Commission.
Boy, that isn't a distraction in our world. That’s a declaration."
"Father, please" I started, but he held up a hand.
"Silence, Aria," he interrupted. He looked at Dante’s uncle, Silvio Moretti. "Silvio. It seems our families have been at each other's throats for too long. My daughter and your nephew seem to have found a... common interest."
Silvio, a man known for being even more calculating than my father, nodded slowly. "It would certainly solve the shipping dispute in the north. A merger of blood is stronger than a merger of paper."
I felt like I couldn't breath anymore. No. This couldn't be happening.
"Wait a minute," Dante said, raising his voice. "I was just"
"You were just announcing your engagement," my father interrupted showing a cruel, triumphant smile across his face. He looked at the crowd, raising his glass. "To Dante Moretti and Aria Valenti! The wedding will be held next Sunday at the Valenti estate. May this union bring peace to our streets."
A cheer went up from the guests with relief and excitement.
I looked at Dante. He looked like he’d been hit by a friggin train. He looked at me, and for a second, I saw on his face, the desperation I’d seen before.
"Sunday?" I whispered with bitterness in my tongue.
My father leaned in with his cigar breath "You wanted to play games, Aria. Now you’ve played yourself right into a cage. The real one. Don't even think about running. I’ve doubled the guards on Elena’s shop. You will marry the Moretti, or you will watch everyone you care about burn."
He walked away, leaving me standing in the middle of the ballroom with a man I didn't know, bound by a kiss I didn't want or ask for.
Dante turned to me, with eyes of guilt and fury. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't know he was watching."
"Sorry doesn't fix my life, Moretti," I replied with rage. I reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling him down to my level. "You wanted a fiancée? Congratulations. You just got a wife who is going to make your life a living hell."
I let go of him and walked toward the exit, holding my head high even though my world just crumbled. I had only seven days to find a way out. Seven days to hack the Moretti accounts and steal enough to disappear, and leave this life behind for good.
But as I reached the doors, I turned back. Dante was still standing there, watching me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
My father didn't just give me a husband, he gave me a death sentence. And I was going to make sure I wasn't the only one who died.
(Aria's Point of View)Grief, I've learned, doesn't come politely. It doesn't wait for a convenient moment, doesn't schedule itself around wars and Tribunal threats and the ongoing business of survival. It finds the cracks in your armor and seeps in sideways, usually when you're doing something completely unrelated to the thing you're grieving.It hits me at eleven-seventeen in the morning, while I'm eating a bowl of soup I don't remember asking for.One moment I'm reviewing surveillance data on the Tribunal's media assets, tracking the bot network Isabella flagged yesterday, following the digital breadcrumbs through seventeen shell accounts back toward what I'm fairly certain is a coordinated server farm operating out of Eastern Europe. The next moment I pick up my phone to text Elena something stupid. A meme, of all things, something Alexei showed me that morning that she would have found genuinely hilarious. And I get as far as opening our conversation thread before I remember.No
(Aria's Point of View)Trauma doesn't always announce itself with dramatic collapse.Sometimes it arrives sideways. Through a door, or a sound, or the particular way light falls across a room. Through something so ordinary that the person experiencing it can't explain afterward why that specific thing, at that specific moment, was the thing that broke through.For Elena, it's Marco.The morning after her first full day of rest is quieter than the one before it. Elena eats breakfast in the kitchen with Natasha, which Sofia reports went well. Real food, two cups of tea, some color coming back into her face. Dr. Reeves does a follow-up examination and declares her physically progressing correctly. The rope burns are healing. The bruising is fading through its spectrum of colors toward resolution.I'm in the command center reviewing Meridian's network architecture with Isabella when Natasha appears in the doorway with an expression I've learned to read correctly in the weeks since she arr
(Aria's Point of View)There's a particular cruelty in having to say goodbye to someone twice. Once when they leave, and once when you finally accept they're not coming back.Elena leaves tomorrow at dawn.That fact sits in my chest like a stone as I stand outside her door at half past nine in the evening, holding a mug of chamomile tea I made myself because Sofia offered and I needed something to do with my hands. Through the door, I can hear the television murmuring. Some cooking show, low volume. Elena always put cooking shows on when she couldn't sleep. The sound of cheerful, uncomplicated problems. whether the soufflé will rise, whether the sauce will reduce. Was apparently her preferred antidote to the darker thoughts.I used to tease her about it relentlessly.I knock softly. "It's me."A pause. Then: "Come in."She's sitting up in bed, the blankets pooled around her waist, the television casting warm flickering light across her face. The bruising around her wrists is visible e
( Aria's Point of View )Some goodbyes happen slowly, giving you time to prepare. But those are rarely the ones that hurt less.Elena sat in the medical wing of Villa Moretti, wrapped in blankets despite the warm room, while Dr. Reeves examined her injuries. I stood by the door with Dante, watching through the glass as the doctor catalogued the damage. Bruises in various stages of healing, rope burns on her wrists, signs of dehydration and malnutrition."She'll recover physically," Dr. Reeves said when she emerged twenty minutes later. "But psychologically..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Mrs. Moretti, your friend has been through severe trauma. She's going to need extensive therapy, possibly medication for PTSD symptoms. And she needs to feel safe, which. Given the circumstances. Might be impossible while she remains in your orbit.""I know," I said quietly. "She's already asked for witness protection. Complete separation.""That's probably for the best," Dr. Reeves said gentl
( Aria's Point of View )Power recognizes power. And Senator Thomas Hartley wore his like a tailored suit, expensive and perfectly fitted.The coordinates he'd sent led to a private airfield thirty miles outside the city, the kind of place where people with money and secrets came to avoid questions
( Aria's Point of View )Waiting is its own special kind of torture. Especially when the people you love are walking into danger you sent them toward.The command center had transformed into a nerve center of barely controlled tension. Isabella sat at her station, monitoring six different camera fe
( Aria's Point of View )I woke up in the Rose Suite twelve hours after the factory rescue, my body aching in places I didn't know could ache. Sunlight streamed through the French doors, afternoon sun that told me I'd slept through most of the day. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the orn
( Aria's Point of View )Insomnia has a particular texture when lives hang in the balance.I gave up on sleep around three in the morning and found myself wandering the Villa Moretti's halls like a ghost haunting her own life. The estate felt different at night, with armed guards patrolling the gro






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