Semua Bab The Tycoon’s Temptress - Red Flower’s Chase: Bab 71 - Bab 80

Valentina’s POV I was almost unconscious, frantically clutching the piece of evidence I had found at the lake above the ocean—Sørvágsvatn. I didn’t know why I was so desperate to hold onto it. I should have thrown it back into the sea, where it came from. Raffaele had left me—left me behind in the helicopter. The sharp smell of salt and seaweed filled my nostrils, mingling with the acrid sting of diesel and burnt oil smeared on my bikini from when I had tried to crawl out of the sinking seaplane. The wind howled like a wild beast, whipping thunderous waves against the cliffs with relentless fury. Lightning cracked overhead, casting jagged shadows that danced across the dark, angry sea. Strong arms grabbed hold of me, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to sleep—to find some peace. Not to shiver, cold to the bone. “She’s slipping away, Kareem! Do something!” a voice rang out urgently. Unfamiliar hands moved quickly around me. “Here, put a blanket on her. Star

Valentina’s POV As I held the clay tablet in my hands, I realized it was freezing cold to the touch—an intense chill biting into my fingers and causing sharp pain. I struggled against the tablet’s icy grip. Raffaele had just finished scanning the tablet with his matching hologram watch. The green light beeped, signaling it was done. But just as the beep sounded, I couldn’t hold it any longer—it slipped from my grasp. “Raffaele, aah!” I gasped as I dropped it. As it fell, Raffaele elegantly caught it with his foot and set it down gently on the clay floor. He grabbed my frostbitten fingers. “This doesn’t look good, mi amore. I didn’t realize it was that cold. Let me see.” I showed him my hands, and he cupped them carefully. “Oh no, you’ve got frost damage. How could it be so cold?” “I don’t know. It hurts, Caro,” I said, pouting. But honestly, it felt good to be spoiled and showered with attention. “Here, let me put some healing hydrogel on it. It will promote healing and ease t

Valentina’s POVMy dark brown pants were coated with layers of fine dust and dirt. Jalal squinted and hunkered down beside me, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. He wore loose, wide pants, his bare chest and arms revealing strong, defined muscles that caught the sunlight. He adjusted the wide straw brim of his hat to better shield his sharp eyes from the harsh light, his unfazed gaze locking onto me.“Little Miss Flor de Fogo,” he said slowly, “let’s see who you really are. If you’re lying, I wouldn’t even wish your death on my worst enemy.”He whistled sharply. “Get the man. Cover their heads with those woven sacks meant for grains.” Then he paused, eyes narrowing. “Hamid, get me my horse and tie them in the back. Let’s see how they handle a little Iranian heat—we’re going to Gorg Cliff!”Hamid and Yasin looked terrified. “Are you sure, Jalal? It’s sacred… and dangerous.”Amir and Farid exchanged worried glances. “Alright then, as you wish, Jalal. But if this ends badly… what if

Raffaele’s POV I sat on the plush ethnic cushion, each stitch of embroidery precise—like a prayer sewn into fabric. In the center, the Semazenler began to whirl. Their white robes billowed softly, arms raised, heads tilted in surrender. Discipline marked every movement. It wasn’t performance—it was pure, godly devotion. I had never witnessed dervishes before. And as they spun, something in me went still. It was awe. And something deeper. Reverent dread. Not the kind of fear that makes you run—but the kind that makes you kneel. That soul-deep trembling when you realize that in a heartbeat, everything you love could be taken away from you. The kind of fear that binds respect and devotion with helplessness and gratitude. The kind that makes you realize you own nothing—not even your breath. And I should be thankful for even making it this far. When the drum ceased and the white robes slowed to stillness, the spell shattered—and I corrected my posture. And there she was. V

Valentina’s POV The engines roared to life beneath our feet in Raffaele’s private jet. The leather seat felt like a welcome respite from the scorching Iranian village air. Raffaele sat across from me, his gaze intense and restless. His fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against his leg. The man was clearly wired—too many thoughts racing, none at peace. He caught my eye and smirked, breaking the silence. “You’re full of secrets, Valentina. That little stunt of yours back there—reckless as always.” I matched his grin, keeping my voice low, just the way I knew he liked it. “Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You have no idea how much I want to keep you safe. And yet, every move you make… it pulls me deeper in. I don’t know if I’m crazy about you or becoming a madman trying to protect you.” I swallowed hard, heat rushing through me despite the cabin’s sterile chill. “We both have our demons, Raffaele. Just try to keep up, will you?