CHAPTER THREE: A SHATTERED NIGHT

Valentina's POV 

I stood outside the door, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. My hand rested on the cold knob, trembling as I struggled to steady my breath. 

This was it. Slowly, though I hesitated at first but I turned it swiftly, pushed the door backwards and stepped inside, the door freaking behind me as it closed. I leaned my back against the door with my eyes shut as I tried to steady by breathing.

Slowly, I opened my eyes to see where I was. The room was dimly lit, filled with the glow of rays from colored bulbs hanging at the ceiling. The atmosphere felt enticing as the fragrance coming from the room smelt good. 

I took a deep breath in. It's been a long time since I found myself in this situation. All I've ever seen and experienced was dirt but this seemed different. For a moment, I almost forgot why I was here, not until my eyes scanned the room, and then I saw him.

The man Franco wanted  me to spend the night with. He was lying on the bed, propped up on one elbow. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but black slacks that clung to his muscular frame. His gaze locked onto me the moment I set my eyes on him. It was sharp and unrelenting. I looked away quickly as my nerves were set to edge.

My legs felt weak as I stepped forward, the sheer red gown Franco had forced me into clinging to my body. The fabric was nearly see-through, exposing far more than I was comfortable with.

It barely reached my thighs and with each step, the gown shifted, revealing my bare hips and legs beneath the dim light. I could feel his eyes burning into me, lingering on every inch of exposed skin.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. I had never been in a situation like this, never had to confront the reality of what Franco had asked me to do. My heart raced as I almost reached the bed, half-dressed and vulnerable, feeling like a prey under his gaze.

He sat up slowly, his eyes never leaving me. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his chest gleaming in the soft light. He was tall, looked powerful with his muscular, thick skin and with the way he looked at me—it was like he owned me—and that made my skin crawl. But, right now, there was no going back.

“Come closer,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

I hesitated. My voice refused to respond, so I took a few slow steps forward again, each one heavier than the last. His eyes flickered down my body but I knew he was watching my every move. 

He soon stretched his hand and reached out, brushing the back of his hand against my arm. I flinched. The touch was soft, sending a shiver down me.

“You're nervous,” he murmured, as if it were an observation and not a question.

I bit my lip and nodded slightly. I could feel the trembling in my fingers, the fear gnawing at me but I tried to push it down. He smiled, stepping closer until the warmth from his skin made my heart raced even faster. 

His hand trailed down my arm and his fingers brushing the thin fabric of my dress.

“You don't have to be afraid,” he whispered, leaning in close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck.

But his words did little to comfort me. How did I get here? How do I get out? I had thought I could use this night to escape somehow, to buy myself time but now, standing in front of him, that hope was slipping away 

His hand slid down to my waist, gripping the fabric and I felt the heat of his touch through the gown. My body froze. Every instinct screamed for me to pull away but I couldn't move. His gaze dropped to my thighs again, his fingers grazing my skin just above my knees.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, his voice sending chills down my spine. His fingers trailed higher. Yet, I knew he was testing me, waiting to see if I would resist.

I shut my eyes, my thoughts spinning in a thousand directions. I wanted to push him away, to scream that I wasn't here by choice. That Franco had sent me to him. But even the words were stuck in my throat.

“Are you going to resist me?” He asked, his voice soft but filled with something darker, something dangerous.

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. My body was betraying me, frozen in fear. His hand inched higher, pressing against my thigh, and despite the terror coursing through me, my body responded with a shiver. 

I shut my eyes trying to block it all out. My body was now responding to his touch…

“I see,” he murmured, his lips curling into a dark smile. “You're already hot. Franco picked well.” He kissed my neck, each touch making my mind raced. I gasped and at that moment, he lifted me effortlessly and tossed me onto the bed 

I landed with a soft thud, my hair spilling across the pillow. He stood at the foot of the bed, watching me, his gaze like a predator eyeing its prey. I couldn't deny the fact that I wanted him at that moment, his touch was something I had never felt in my entire life until now. I sat up slightly, propping myself up on my elbows.

“I'll take you back with me,” he said suddenly, unzipping his slacks as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

My heart skipped. Take me? I sat up quickly, my pulse racing. “Wait—what?” I stammered, shaking my head as panic flooded through me. “No, I'm only supposed to spend the night. I can't go with you. I'm not going anywhere with you.”

He chuckled, the sound no different from a jester. “You think you have a choice?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “I can take whatever I want. And I want you. Franco can't refuse me, he can't.”

The certainty in his voice, the sheer arrogance made me uneasy. Franco? Would he really let this happen? I thought of my so-called father and the cruelty in his eyes when he told me I wasn't really his daughter. A bitter realization hit me. Of course, he would.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head, my voice growing firmer. “No, I'm not going with you. I'm not something you can just take.”

He sighed, almost bored with my resistance. “You don't understand how this works. You'll come with me and you'll do what I say. That's how things are.”

All I could do was shake my head. 

“How are you even talking back at me… you're just a maid… maybe a slave… I'll have a word with Franco once I'm done with you.” He tilted his head.

I kept mute, I wanted to tell him I was Franco’s daughter. Maybe it could help me but I couldn't, not after learning the truth. He pulled off his slacks, leaving him with his boxer. 

“That's more like it… I expected silence.” He claimed up the bed and now over me. “We'll be doing this every night. Unless, of course, if I'm not around. But whenever I am, you'll be in my bed.”

My mind screamed in protest. Every night? The very sound of it struck me with fear.

“No,” I muttered, my voice shaking and my hands balling into a fist as I grilled the bed sheet tighter. 

I slowly backed away from me but he was still over me. I wanted to scream, to hit him but I felt trapped. What could I do? I glanced around the room, desperate for a way out. Then my eyes landed on the small table beside the bed. There was a vase—looked heavy and solid.

He leaned closer and as his hand slid up my leg again, I made a decision. He bent towards me, his breath hot on my neck as he lifted my legs. I could feel his weight pressing me down. My hand darted out, grabbing the vase.

Without hesitation and without thinking, I swung it as hard as I could, the ceramic shattering against his head with a loud crack. The room fell into stunned silence.