All Chapters of VOWS OF THE VEILED kING: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Chapter 11The forbidden wingFiorenza POVThe heels of my expensive hill clicked against the cold marble of the Como villa’s east corridor, a sound too sharp, too alive for a house that felt increasingly like a stone tomb. I adjusted the velvet strip of my dress the emerald silk Valeriano liked to see me in, as if hanging me in jewels and designer fabrics could cover the heavy, iron clad leash he had fastened around my throat.To the outside world, I was merely the adornment of the estate, the compliant bride moving through the gilded cage with peaceful grace. But beneath the polished facade, my stomach was a knot of raw, jagged nerves.​I checked the gold-plated Cartier watch on my wrist and it was 12 PM.​Valeriano was locked away in his underground study with his capos, deep into negotiations that smelled of gunpowder and offshore accounts. The guards were stationed at predictable intervals, a lazy over-confidence born of the belief that no one, least of all a woman wrapped in s

Chapter 13The right hand Fiorenza POV​The air inside the Valeriano estate always tasted of old money and cold marble, a choking mix that gripped to the back of my throat long after midnight. Down here in the east wing, the shadows did not just rest against the walls, they seemed to breathe, curling around the heavy polish wood doors and the priceless art that Valeriano used to mark his territory. My boots made no sound against the Persian runner, a habit born of necessity and weeks of quiet desperation.Every muscle in my body was coiled and so tight I thought my skin might split. I had spent twenty minutes picking the lock to the service corridor, and for what? A dusty ledger that probably wouldn’t even prove a share of what my father died trying to uncover.​My heart pounded against my ribs like a trapped bird,deafening in the silence. It wasn't just fear though but fear was a cold weight settling in my stomach it was the bitter,sharp ringing sound taste of regret. What was I

Chapter 15The Price of LoyaltyFiorenza POVThe air in the narrow corridor outside the restricted wing smelled of wet limestone and the faint, bitter trace of Matteo’s cigarette.I hadn’t heard him approach which,given the heavy wool of my coat and the pounding of my own blood in my ears, wasn't entirely his fault. But he was standing too close.Invading the boundary I’d spent years drawing around myself like a chalk line.​"You’re breathing too loud, Fiorenza," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, rasping register that usually meant he was either about to lie or tell a truth so dangerous that it would crack the floor planks beneath us."And you’re standing where people who don't want to live past thirty usually stand."​I didn’t step back. If I retreated now, he’d smell the panic on me, and currency in this house wasn't gold or blood,it was composure Instead,I shifted my weight,letting my fingers brush the cold metal of the service staircase handle behind my back.​"I cou

​Chapter 17The Gilded Cage​Fiorenza​The silence at Villa Balbianello felt heavier than any boardroom fight and more suffocating than a crowd of cameras. Perched on a cliff overlooking the dark, glassy waters of Lake Como, the historic estate is usually celebrated in glossy magazines as an idyllic romantic sanctuary. But for Valeriano and me, it was nothing more than a golden cage with the doors locked tight.​We were stuck here for two full days because of a corporate mandate. Our joint venture's board forced this mandatory retreat to smooth over our public drama before our massive Tokyo acquisition went live. ​I stood by the floor-to-ceiling French doors in the master suite, watching morning mist cling to the dark water like a damp shroud while I traced the cold glass of my espresso cup. Behind me, the heavy scrape of a leather shoe on the floorboards gave Valeriano away before he even spoke. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed; a charcoal linen robe hung loosely over his broad sh

Chapter 19Silk and ScarsValeriano POVThe backstage of the House of Moretti runway show smelled of hot styling irons, hairspray, and panic.Models in shiny gowns rushed past me, their heels hitting the concrete floor as they tried to get ready for the show. Normally, the expensive clothes and bright lights made this place look perfect.Tonight, none of that really matteredI didn't care about the fashion, I didn't care about the nervous looks from the staff as I walked through the crowded backstage area.I had one thing on my mind and that was fiorenza.Two hours ago, a secure file had landed on my desk.It contained details about the restructuring of my shipping business. Private information that only a few people had access to.The files had been sent through an encrypted server registered to a shell company in Milan.There was only one person I knew who could have done it.Fiorenza Rossi.Brilliant. Ruthless. And stubborn enough to walk straight into danger just to prove she coul