Semua Bab Liars Like Us - Book 1: Legacy of Lies: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The night air clung to Valentina’s skin like velvet and smoke as she stepped from the backseat of the hired car. The Romano casino rose before her, a temple of glass and gold, its neon lights spilling across the pavement like the glow of a thousand sins waiting to be committed. She adjusted the strap of her black lace dress, the kind that suggested money without screaming it, and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.“Miss Bellamy,” the driver murmured, handing her a sleek clutch.Valentina smiled at Bellamy tonight. Perhaps Russo tomorrow. Silk dresses often marked identities—you wore them until someone noticed the seam.Inside, the casino pulsed with heat and noise: the click of roulette balls, the chiming of slot machines, the perfume-clouded laughter of women draped in diamonds that glittered as if they were still wet with blood. Valentina moved through it all with the calm grace of a predator cloaked in velvet.She made a slow circuit of the floor. Men turned to look—w

The door shut behind her with a weight that felt almost final.Valentina straightened her shoulders, forcing her stride into a glide, heels clicking a rhythm of defiance against the polished floor. The escort at her side was broad and silent, his suit stretched taut over his muscles. He didn’t touch her, didn’t need to. His presence was a wall.The corridor unfurled toward the elevator, lined with framed oil paintings and discreetly placed cameras. Each step felt longer than the last.Her reflection ghosted along the dark glass panels—lace dress, red lips, eyes that glittered with secret. She looked untouchable. Untouchable, but for the faint tremor beneath her ribs that no one could see.Why let me walk?Men like Dante Romano didn’t release liars They cut them loose—literall. She had expected a body bag, not an escort.The elevator doors opened with a muted chime. She stepped inside, the guard following, his jaw clenched in professional silence.As the car began to descend, sh

The ledger pressed against her ribs with every step, a phantom weight inside her clutch.Valentina crossed the street toward the Romano casino, neon lights spilling across the pavement like broken glass. The building loomed higher than she remembered, each pane of glass gleaming like an eye, watching, waiting.Her heels clicked sharply against the marble as she entered, the hum of the casino floor swelling to meet her—laughter, coins, music, all of it gilded noise. But beneath it ran something else, a current of menace only she seemed to feel.The guards at the entrance barely glanced at her before nodding her through. No one asked for her name this time. No one asked for proof of who she was.Because Dante already knew.Vale

The dress lay on her bed like a sentence: velvet the color of midnight, heavy, expensive, stitched to mold her body into a weapon. A note had accompanied it, in Dante’s sharp, elegant hand.Wear this.Valentina traced the fabric with her fingers, her jaw tight. It was the kind of gown that demanded attention, that announced ownership before she even opened her mouth. To wear it was to declare herself his—whether she wanted to or not.She slipped into it anyway.The bodice hugged her ribs like a cage; the skirt brushed the floor with a whisper that sounded too much like submission. But when she turned toward the mirror, she saw not a prisoner but a queen. Her hair coiled into a crown of dark waves, her lips repainted crimson—her own rebellion, a streak of fire against his midnight velvet.

The warehouse stank of oil and rust. Bare bulbs hung on chains overhead, their yellow light carving deep shadows into the concrete walls.Valentina stood near the door, her arms crossed, her velvet gown from the gala replaced with Dante’s jacket thrown over her shoulders. It dwarfed her frame, smelling of smoke and something sharper. She should have felt safer in it. Instead, she felt claimed.In the center of the room, the waiter knelt, wrists bound with cable ties, face pale and slick with sweat. His eyes darted wildly, catching on every shadow.Dante stood before him, silent.No theatrics, no raised voice, no overt menace. Just silence—and the weight of his presence pressing the air flat.Marco moved behind the waiter, the