MY CASANOVA MAFIA CHAPTER 5

Arnulfo didn't blink as he chewed. Every bite, deliberate, was a display of control, and Valentine's skin itched to crawl under the table. Tension between them hung in the air like an impending storm, and she kept her head down, pushing food around on her plate. Eating felt impossible under his weight.

"Enjoy your dinner," Arnulfo said, his voice unnervingly nonchalant as he put down his fork and sat back, tucking in beside her. The space between them was nonexistent, the oppression of his closeness palpable. His tone was calm, but there was a commanding quality that made her feel like she was just a piece to be moved around on some game board he was mastering.

 She didn’t respond; she just watched him closely, her grip on the fork tightening as if it were her only lifeline in this tense moment.Then, after a long silence, he spoke again."After dinner, I’ve prepared new clothes for you. Comfortable ones," he said, as if his gesture was one of kindness. "Toiletries are available, too, if you’d like to take a shower."

Valentine froze, her eyes snapping up to meet his. For a moment, she saw something almost human in his expression—an odd mix of care and control that made her stomach churn.

She hesitated, sensing his intentions. Was it some kind of sick plot to make her complacent, to lull her into some false sense of security? Or was this just another way to remind her that everything she had now was at his mercy?

"I didn't ask for your charity," she said, low and laced with defiance.

Arnulfo's lips curled into a faint smirk. "No, you didn't. But you don't have to. I take care of what's mine, Valentine."

The way he said her name made her shiver, and she clenched her jaw, refusing to let him see the fear flickering behind her eyes.

"I'm not yours," she snapped, her voice shaking despite her effort to keep it steady.

His smirk deepened, but his eyes darkened, the playful glint vanishing as his expression turned serious. "You keep telling yourself that," he said softly, but there was steel beneath his words. "Finish your meal. You’ll need your strength."

 Valentine's heart was pounding in her chest as he leaned back, the calmness in his manner only making her unease grow. She glanced down at her plate, her appetite gone; however, she made herself eat.She needed her strength—not for him, but for herself.

Arnulfo was far from peaceful even when sleeping. The man had fallen asleep when watching Valentine eat. Thoughts of dark shadows wove themselves through his slumber. 

The dark figures standing in every corner of his empire cast their voices around with evil and planning for him to fall.

The heart of it was Valentine. A fierce burning radiated out of her unyielding eyes. She did not know everything, and he feared if she ever knew would forgive him for it. It wasn't just him, however that posed a threat to her; it was the dangerous world he existed in. His enemies who were also hungry for power and vengeance had already put their crosshairs on her. For him, Valentine wasn't a human; she was merely a way to an end, a perfect pawn with which to dismantle his empire, brick by brick.

They will take her and hurt her and break her just for the pleasure of watching him fall. And just that thought was a constant haunt that made sleep a precious commodity for most nights.

But tonight was different as exhaustion finally conquered him and for the first time in a long while, let him sleep. 

Even in sleep, however, the weight of his decisions lay over him like a motionless shadow. Waves lapping upon the beach filled the air with the gentle lullaby that merged with his steady rhythm of breathing as he stretched across the sofa, softening his facial features from the slumber. For the first time since Valentine had entered his life, she saw him without his usual air of menace.

His long lashes cast faint shadows over his cheekbones, and his jaw, which normally was set with iron determination, was relaxed. Dim moonlight danced across his face, highlighting strong features that made him look almost angelic—an ironic twist, she thought, that someone so terrifying could be so strikingly beautiful.

Valentine's eyes met his for longer than she cared to think about as she shook her head suddenly as if trying to focus. What am I? she thought to herself in irritation, crossing her arms around her knees to safeguard her against the turmoil running rampant inside of her, yet her eyes seemed impossible to keep under control: they drifted back to his again.

"If only he treated me right," she said to herself in an undertone, shocked to hear her own words. "I might fall in love with him."

That surprised her, even out here in the wilderness, alone. Her cheeks filled with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. How was she thinking that? She was a prisoner, being held by him, and forcibly taken from her life to be imprisoned here in solitude.

But there was no denying it. His rugged handsomeness was hard to overlook-the strong lines of his jaw, the way his features softened in sleep. "Sad to say," she mumbled bitterly, "he's a monster. And a pervert." That thought pulled her back to reality, reminding her of the power imbalance that loomed heavy between them.

Whatever passing admiration she had held was lost in the face of reality. She ripped her eyes from him and turned to the window, staring out at the great sea. Somewhere out there was her freedom, and she couldn't let herself forget it, no matter what tangled feelings were stirring in her heart.

As she focused on the waves, which seemed to stretch endlessly before her, Arnulfo stirred in his sleep, letting out a soft sigh. Valentine's body tensed, her heart racing in anticipation. Would he wake up? But he didn't. Instead, he mumbled something incoherent, his voice softer than she'd ever heard.

For a brief moment, he was almost human and certainly not the fierce man who kidnapped her. But he would soon shake his head again, reminding himself of things not to be so blinded by. She certainly looked peaceful, but still he was a fact about her that would never really fade.

Her resolve hardened once more against any hint of weakness which threatened to creep in. She would not let the momentary softness influence her; she had to be strong.

But as she turned away, still the echo lingered on in her head. "If only.

It was a haunting thought that wound itself around her heart. How could someone so beautiful also be so deadly? The turmoil within her was like a storm, churning and turning, which made it hard to breathe.