All Chapters of The Tycoon’s Temptress - Red Flower’s Chase: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Valentina’s POV I stood before the ornate mirror in the guest suite, studying my reflection with critical eyes. The woman staring back wore a silk emerald green A-line dress with a cowl neckline and short puffy sleeves—feminine, elegant, disarming. Around my neck hung a delicate emerald necklace with matching earrings—Raffaele’s “gift.” “You’re decent enough,” came his voice from the doorway. I turned slowly, finding him leaning against the frame, immaculate in charcoal gray, his expression unreadable. Those dark eyes made my stomach surge. I couldn’t look away. “You exceed expectations,” I replied coolly, adjusting the necklace. “Another chain to bind me?” Something flashed in his eyes—amusement? Irritation? “Symbolic, perhaps. But necessary for appearances.” “Like everything else about this arrangement.” He checked his watch. “The lawyers are waiting. Shall we?” The conference room felt sterile—glass and polished wood. Two family attorneys sat opposite each o

Valentina’s POV Raffaele’s hand brushed against the end of my back, just where my spine arched beneath silk and diamonds. I should’ve stopped him—but his touch lingered like the tail end of a storm, electric and inevitable. “You parade through my empire like a goddess tonight,” he murmured, his breath warm against my neck, “and expect me to sleep alone?” I laughed, quiet and sharp. “Aren’t you the one who paid for the show, Ricchezza?” The corners of his mouth lifted, smugly. “You teased. Now throw me the bone.” My skin prickled. The tension between us had stretched all night like a taut string—every look, every touch, calculated and deliberate. This wasn’t romance. It was war, dressed in velvet and veiled in obscure candlelight. Still, being so close with my enemy felt dangerous and thrilling at the same time. So I turned my back to him, walking slowly toward our bedroom, hips swaying under the weight of my champagne gown. I paused at the door. Unzipped the

Valentina’s POV The tension hung thick, a deafening roar that drowned out everything but the frantic thudding of my heartbeat in my ears. Tullio stood frozen, his mercenaries slick with sweat under the weight of Raffaele’s glare and the scorching Baghdad sun. The copper market of Souk al-Safafeer—usually alive with clanging metal and bargaining voices—had fallen eerily silent. Not even a hammer dared to strike. All eyes were locked on the spectacle unfolding before us. The air crackled with unspoken threats. Raffaele stepped in front of me, his presence a shield as his men swiftly ushered Maria behind us to safety. He arched an eyebrow, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Tullio Cavaliere. I didn’t expect to find you here.” Tullio scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. “Nor I, Raffaele. Stay out of this. Maria is my woman.” Raffaele’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering within them. “Doesn’t look that way, Tullio. I don’t see Maria throwing herself

Valentina’s POVThe Euphrates River shimmered faintly under the scorching sun, its cracked banks a ghostly shadow of the lifeline it once was.Raffaele’s body slammed into mine, pinning me to the sand, his weight crushing me as bullets whistled left and right.His cologne—sandalwood and sin—flooded my senses, and I cursed my weak, lusty body for sparking under his touch.Terror hammered inside my chest, but damn it, my skin burned where his hips pressed against mine.Get it together, Valentina, I hissed internally, hating how my pulse raced for all the wrong reasons.“Stay down!” Raffaele growled, his breath hot against my ear, eyes scanning the chaos. “You want to die out here?”“Get off me!” I snapped, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t budge, his frame a maddening shield.My heart pounded—fear, fury, and something I refused to name. “I can handle myself!”“I can see that,” he smirked, his lips twitching despite the gunfire. “I’m not taking any chances when it comes to you.”“I am

The Ricchezza beach house was a Mediterranean dream, all whitewashed walls and floor-to-ceiling windows framing the turquoise sea. Potted palms swayed on the terrace, kissed by the salty breeze. Inside, the cozy library smelled of old books and sea air, the sound of waves a soft counterpoint to the storm of secrets brewing in my heart. I felt trapped, like a bird who’d lost its inner compass, my nightmares still raw from the tomb’s looting. Morning light spilled through the windows. I hadn’t expected Raffaele to be up, let alone sneaking up behind me, his arms circling my waist. “Did you sleep well, cara mia?” His whisper was warm against my ear, followed by a gentle kiss on my collarbone. “I said I wanted space,” I retorted, but my body betrayed me, leaning into his warmth. His masculine scent—sandalwood and sea salt—was the only thing that kept me calm. “I made you coffee. How do you like it?” he asked, stepping back to pour a cup. How thoughtful. Or was it just another act,