Valentina’s POV I sat in Raffaele’s lap, my cheeks pressing against him. I could feel his heat beneath me. I had to keep him here—drag him away from all the poisonous family drama swirling around us. That snake Fiametta was exactly as Raffaele had described: dramatic, unhinged, and obsessively possessive over Enzo. And his father? A tragic, washed-up playboy drowning in his own failures. And Domenico—God, don’t even get me started. His dark comment rattled me to the bone. He hated her guts, truly. If I were her, I’d be careful what I drank around him. So, I sat there, looking innocent in his lap, trying to distract him. The Assyrian goatskin lay nearby waiting to be used. “Raffaele, look at me.” He was so deep in thought it was hard to get his attention for once. “Valentina, look… this is not a good time for play… I’m thinking.” “I can see that,” I said, and kissed his neck. “Think of something else… think of me.” I trailed down to his chest. “See… all bette
Tariq Al-Mansour’s POV Someone’s voice hissed through the line, sharp and urgent. “The situation has changed. She’s not behaving as I expected.” A cold pause, then a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “What, you’re a little slow? Didn’t you know? I thought you paid closer attention?” A slight annoyed pause. “No. And if you knew the circumstances had changed, why didn’t you tell me?” I scoffed. “I don’t have to tell you anything. I have my own reasons for hunting her. Why? You don’t think I’ve tried? She’s a slippery bitch—that cunt.” “You must change your plan, Tariq. If you don’t, I lose everything.” The person’s tone dropped low and dangerous. “She’s a threat I can’t ignore. Make her think she’s winning… but make her suffer first. Break her spirit slowly—then finish the job.” There was a pause, as if weighing every word carefully. “No mistakes. No mercy. If this goes sideways, it’s on you.” The voice hardened into a ruthless whisper. “Do what’s necessary.” I l
Raffaele’s POV Valentina held the gun steadily, aiming it toward the door and loading it with practiced ease. Then, without warning, Fiametta burst in—fiery red hair wild, thick cakey makeup, teetering on high heels as she dragged her suitcase behind her. “Enzo! Where are the concierges? You have to help me!” she pouted dramatically, stumbling into the room. Enzo was busy trying to assist her while a breathless Domenico entered alongside a stern-faced Giuliana, who had her arms protectively around Rosalia, my mother. No one noticed the gun—until Fiametta’s sharp voice cut through the chaos. “Oh my God, Raffaele, are you really sleeping with that slut? Paolo’s daughter, you know—the infamous archaeologist who got shot!” She smirked, eyes flicking to the gun. Valentina lowered the weapon awkwardly, fury boiling just beneath the surface, her knuckles white from gripping it so tight. “No, I wasn’t expecting uninvited company,” she said coolly, “and I don’t appreciate gue
Valentina’s POV We were halfway through dinner when Raffaele’s phone buzzed quietly. He slipped on his earphones, his face tightening just slightly. I watched him, sensing the mood shift before he even spoke. “Sir, I’ve got a new lead,” Matteo said urgently. “Valentina’s father, Paolo Bianchi—his death does have ties to Ricchezza Oils. It’s a mess, and I’m still piecing it together, but be careful, Raffaele. Whatever happened… it was an insider job. I’m guessing Domenico, like you said. Who else would have the motive?” I saw Raffaele’s eyes darken. “That’s all for now, Matteo. Keep me posted. Dig deeper—find out everything you can.” I couldn’t hear what Matteo was saying, but judging by the look on Raffaele’s face, it was something important—and unpleasant. I asked innocently, “What was that all about?” “Internal affairs. Nothing for you to worry about,” he replied with his tone clipped and firm with no room for further arguments. I shifted uneasily in my seat, unused to bei
Valentina’s POV Jens, our guide, had driven us to the log cabin in the nearby town of Sørvágur. It was a small, charming place that offered a touch of modern comfort and accessibility. The town had picturesque shops, cozy cafés, and better infrastructure. Being close to the airport made it convenient for travelers and thrill seekers like us. The town was nestled against a dramatic, sloping hillside, its earthy tones of brown and gold contrasting with the overcast sky. This creates a sense of serene isolation within me, as if the settlement was carved into the wild landscape, untouched by modernity’s rush. The black wooden church with its white-framed windows and pointed steeple radiated a historical and rustic allure blurred outside the window. The surrounding houses, painted in a mix of muted reds, greens, and grays with grass roofs, evoke a traditional Nordic architectural style that felt timeless and charming. “Please give us a call, Mr. and Mrs. Ricchezza, if yo
Valentina’s POV I never ever dreamed that I would be at the Scandinavian Faroe Islands’ Lake Sørvágsvatn, which is a self-governing archipelago and part of the Kingdom of Denmark. I held Raffaele’s hand. The journey had been intense. I didn’t know what to believe—what my heart felt and what my eyes and ears told me were two very different things. Maria Medri’s police report didn’t lie. But I still had doubts about Raffaele. If he didn’t do it, then who? I already knew Tariq Al-Mansour pulled the trigger… But who was behind him—the invisible spider in the web, pulling all the strings? Tariq was a spider himself, but even a man like him had sponsors, backers, kingpins, and overlords—if the price was right. This place was the lake above the ocean—a stunning natural phenomenon that’s hard to put into words. Wild, rugged nature surrounded its dramatic cliffs, where the lake seems to hover just above the Atlantic Ocean. It creates a breathtaking optical illusion,