Semua Bab The Tycoon’s Temptress - Red Flower’s Chase: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Valentina’s POVThe air in the luxury villa was glacial. Not from the marble floors or the endless windows overlooking Baghdad’s skyline—but from the man seated across the mahogany desk. His eyes bore into mine, they were charged with electricity. He would be dazzling, dashing even if it wasn't for the fact he had bought me. Raffaele Ricchezza didn’t smile. He didn’t blink either. His suit, all black Armani, wrapped his lean form like armor. His presence sucked the warmth from the room. I met his stare without flinching. “You understand what I’m offering,” he said finally, with a low and precise voice. “I do,” I replied. “You’re asking me to marry you.” “A legal union,” he clarified. “No romance. No expectations beyond public appearances, occasional press photos, and eventual heirs.” I arched a brow. “You want children?” He leaned back. “My grandfather’s will is explicit. No heirs, no inheritance. And I don’t intend to lose ten billion dollars because of outdated s

Valentina’s POV The Ishtar Hotel’s grand ballroom glittered under a canopy of crystal chandeliers, their light fracturing across the marble floor like stars scattered over a Sumerian night. The charity gala buzzed with Baghdad’s elite—diplomats in tailored tuxedos, heiresses dripping in diamonds, important guests and Raffaele Ricchezza, the man who held the room’s pulse. Everyone important was there. Tonight, though, I, Valentina, his fiancée, would steal the spotlight. My gown—a vintage champagne masterpiece from Monica Buccella’s private vintage collection, my late mother Graziella’s friend—clings to my curves, gem-studded and shimmering with every step. The high slit teases a glimpse of bronzed thigh, but my chest remains a mystery, a deliberate choice to keep them guessing. My curled hair cascades over my shoulders in perfect curls, crowned by a delicate tiara, a nod to Inanna, the goddess this hotel honors. My makeup is subtle, sharpening my cheekbones, enhan

Valentina’s POV After I sent a message to Raffaele, I bolted upright, my chair scraping against the stone floor. My hand seized Maria’s wrist—fingers tight, face rigid with urgency. “Valentina, what’s wrong?” Maria’s voice trembled, her eyes searching mine. Fear flickered there, mirroring the dread I couldn’t hide. “No questions. Move.” I pulled her into the chaos of the crowd. We vanished into Baghdad’s dying Souk al-Safafeer—once a haven of craftsmanship and copper artistry. Now, it was a whisper of its former self, clinging to life in the shadow of the American invasion. The market had once throbbed with the heartbeat of Iraq—metal against metal, families bargaining, the scent of tradition hanging thick in the air. Now, it was only echoes. Saffron. Smoke. The sharp scent of heated copper. Somewhere, a hammer struck rhythmically against a dish. My pulse synced to that beat—frantic, erratic. Only the rich could still afford what this place offered. People like the R

Valentina’s POVMorning light filtered through the gauzy curtains of the Ricchezza villa, casting golden streaks across the silk sheets.Raffaele lay asleep beside me, his arm heavy and possessive over my waist.He looked almost vulnerable—beautiful, less cold, his sharp features softened.His masculine warmth pressed against my thin nightgown, his expensive cologne weaving a dangerous spell.He’d held me tightly all night, as if I might slip away, but my thoughts spun like a sandstorm.Was his protectiveness just a lie?Raffaele needed my research—my father’s work on orichalcum—to secure his inheritance and power.If I failed to deliver, would he discard me like his family did my father?And Tullio—damn that monster.Why was he so relentless in tormenting Maria, my best friend?The chemistry crackling between Raffaele and me only muddied the waters. I was playing a dangerous game, and I couldn’t afford to lose control.Everything was so damn complicated.I tried to slip from the bed

Valentina’s POV The Ishtar Hotel suite enveloped me, the marble floors chilling my bare feet as I jolted awake from a fractured sleep. Gunfire and Tariq’s sneer haunted my dreams, the silk sheets damp with sweat as I saw my father’s face. Raffaele thought it was a safer choice to keep us here after Tariq mocked me, claiming he’d had me under surveillance for some time. Who knew if that monster was lying or not? The space beside me was empty and cold, and a low voice drifted from the balcony. My heart thudded as I crept to the glass doors, peering through the gap, suspicion threading through me. Raffaele stood there, phone pressed to his ear, Baghdad’s skyline a glittering void behind him. His voice cut through the night, sharp and focused. “Yes, Marco, the orichalcum find changes everything. We secure it, and Ricchezza Oil dominates the clean energy market. No competition, no limits.” My stomach twisted, my fingers digging into the doorframe. He’s using it. Using m