~Alina~
The moment the plane touched down in Milan, a wave of nostalgia crashed over me. For a second, I wasn’t a heartbroken, penniless woman. I was a little girl again, running barefoot through the sun-drenched streets, my father’s laughter echoing beside me. I could almost taste the sticky sweetness of gelato on my tongue, feel the warmth of his large hand holding mine as we weaved through the bustling streets. Back then, Milan had been magic. Now, it was just another reminder of everything I had lost. I tightened my grip on the handle of my suitcase, the wheels clicking softly against the airport’s shining floors. The air smelled like freshly brewed espresso, warm pastries, and expensive perfume. I moved through the crowd, my body heavy with exhaustion, my heart heavier with the weight of what awaited me. By the time I slid into the back of a taxi, the midafternoon sun lights washed the streets in a golden glow. The ride was silent. I kept my eyes on the window, watching Milan blur past in streaks of ancient stone and modern glass,couples strolling hand in hand. The city was alive, yet I felt detached from it. I used to belong here once upon a time. Now, I wasn’t sure where I belonged at all. The car slowed as we reached the outskirts of the city, where the streets grew quieter, the buildings giving way to stretches of olive trees and sprawling vineyards. My fingers curled against my lap as the taxi took the final turn onto a familiar road. And then I saw it. Nana’s house. A soft gasp caught in my throat. I pushed the car door open before the driver had even put the car in park, my heart sinking as I dragged my suitcase from the trunk. The villa stood just as I remembered, tucked away behind an old rusty iron gate with stone walls that had been warmed by decades of summer suns. It wasn’t grand, not like the mansions my father’s wealth had afforded, but it had always felt bigger. But something felt off. The windows, always scrubbed clean, were slightly clouded with dust. The shutters, which Nana had insisted be repainted every spring, were chipped, their once-bright white now dull. The terracotta roof, usually gleaming under the evening sun, seemed muted. My fingers trembled as I pushed open the iron gate and stepped onto the cobbled path. The first thing I noticed was the flowers. Nana’s favorite roses and hydrangeas, usually vibrant and full of life, were withering. The petals curled at the edges, their once-rich colors fading into dull browns and yellows. A pang of worry shot through me. Nana loved her flowers more than anything. She used to make me water them every morning when I visited as a child, saying, “A home without flowers is a home without a soul.” For them to be neglected meant her condition must be worse than I thought. I swallowed hard and walked forward, my heart thudding in my chest. A small gray cat darted past me, its fur slightly unkempt. Nana’s pets had always been well-fed and well-loved. Another bad sign. The air felt colder as I walked forward, the wheels of my suitcase bouncing against the uneven stones. My breath was shallow, my fingers trembling. I reached the door, hesitating for only a second before lifting my hand to knock. I never got the chance. The door flew open before I could touch it. “Nana! Il mio dolce melanzana è tornata![Nana! Your sweet garden egg is back!]” A blur of movement crashed into me, knocking the breath from my lungs. Warm arms wrapped tightly around me, and a familiar scent of lavender and citrus filled my senses before I could even process what was happening. “Giulia!” My arms instinctively closed around my cousin as she squeezed me in an almost suffocating embrace. “I missed you!” she breathed, pulling back just enough for me to see the bright smile on her face. I swallowed the lump in my throat, my heart twisting painfully. “I missed you too.” She looked the same yet somehow different. Her dark brown curls were as wild as ever, tumbling past her shoulders in messy waves. Her green eyes, the color of summer leaves, sparkled with emotion, but there was something new in them—a maturity that hadn’t been there five years ago. “You’ve grown bigger!” she teased, her hands still gripping my shoulders as she took me in. “It’s been forever!” I let out a breathless laugh. “You say that like I turned into a giant.” She smirked. “Well, maybe a little.” For a moment, the heaviness in my chest lifted. Giulia had been my best friend growing up, my partner in crime every summer when I visited Italy. We had spent hours running through vineyards, stealing Nana’s fresh cookies. But the moment of joy faded too quickly. “Where’s Nana?” I asked, my voice quieter now. “What’s wrong with her?” Giulia’s smile faltered. She opened her mouth, but she didn’t need to say it. I already knew. Inside, the house smelled exactly the same. Tomato sauce simmering on the stove. Fresh bread cooling on the counter. The softest hint of lavender from Nana’s favorite soap. But there was something different about the air. A heaviness. And then I saw her. Nana sat in her favorite chair near the fireplace, wrapped in a thick wool blanket. She looked smaller. Her once rosy cheeks were pale, her silver hair thinner than before. The warmth in her honey-brown eyes was still there, but exhaustion weighed heavily on her features. “Alina, mia cara [my dear,]” she whispered, reaching for my hands. I dropped to my knees beside her, taking her frail fingers in mine. “Nana…” She smiled softly. “You’re still as beautiful as ever. Your father would be so proud.” At the mention of Dad, my chest tightened. “I miss him,” I admitted. “I do too, tesoro[darling,]” she said with a sigh. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then she squeezed my hand. “Mio dolce melanzana, Nana is getting too old. I don’t have much time left,” she chuckled dryly. “But there’s something I need to tell you,” she said. “Your father left something behind for you. Some properties and fortunes. A hidden inheritance.” I blinked in shock. “What?” “He anticipated that things might take a wrong turn in the future. To protect you, he made arrangements to secure your future. His wish is for you to settle down before claiming the inheritance, so you can build a stable life with your husband and children. That’s the only way he can ensure you’re safe from those who would take advantage of you.” My breath hitched. “Dad wants me to get married first before I can claim the inheritance?” “Yes,” she nodded weakly. “That’s why I wanted to see your fiancé,” Nana continued. “The last time we spoke, you told me you were engaged. Where is he?” My stomach dropped. “Hmm… Nana, he’s coming soon. He got caught up with something.” Her gaze searched mine as if she could sense my hesitation. Finally, she nodded. “Alright. I’ll wait for him.” I forced a smile, but inside, panic twisted like a knife. I had no fiancé, thanks to Ethan and Jade. I had nothing to my name. No home, no money. I had spent all my savings on the penthouse and the wedding, only for everything to fall apart. I needed this inheritance. And if that meant finding a fiancé overnight, then so be it. The idea was reckless, but I had no choice. I had explained everything to Giulia—how today was supposed to be my wedding, how I had lost everything in a single night. And thanks to her, I now stood outside Inferno, one of Milan’s most exclusive and dangerous clubs. According to her, it was also the easiest place to find a man without complications. “Just promise them a hot night, and they’ll be begging to play fiancé,” she had teased with a smirk. At the time, I had rolled my eyes. But now, standing here, I wasn’t so sure she was wrong. The night pulsed with life, music and voices spilling onto the street. Inferno stood before me, tall, sleek, and ominous, its black glass exterior reflecting the golden city lights. Before I could take a step forward, a sleek black SUV pulled up beside me. I barely had time to register the movement before something struck the back of my head. A sharp, searing pain exploded through my skull, like a bolt of lightning splitting my senses apart. A dull ringing filled my ears, my vision tilting as my body lost all strength. My knees buckled, and the world around me blurred into nothing but shadows and distant noise. Then, darkness swallowed me whole.~Alina~ A slow, steady beeping sound pulled me from the darkness. My head throbbed, my body ached, and the air smelled different. Unfamiliar. I woke up slowly, my eyes adjusting to the soft light from the chandelier above me. The ceiling was high, decorated with gold patterns on ivory-white paint. The bed beneath me was too soft, the sheets cool against my skin. As I turned my head, the rest of the room came into focus—furniture, heavy velvet curtains partly covering tall windows, and shiny black tiles. This wasn’t my room. A chill ran down my spine as last night’s memories hit me. I had been kidnapped. Panic shot through me and I tried to sit up, but my movements felt restrained and uncomfortable. My hands flew to my chest, gripping the unfamiliar fabric and as I slowly looked down a violent shiver ran through me. I was wearing a pristine white lace wedding gown. My breath hitched. What. The. Hell? A scream tore from my throat before I could stop it. The do
~Valentino~ I stretched out a hand to her, my gaze locking onto her perfect, full-figured body. For some reason, I had always preferred curvier women. Society glorified tall, thin women with sharp cheekbones and endless legs, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted a woman with flesh, softness, and curves that could handle a man like me. Alina had all that and more. Her rich, dark hair cascaded past her back in loose waves, framing a heart-shaped face. Her bright green eyes were filled with fear, an emotion that, for some reason, intrigued me. Her full lips trembled slightly, and her porcelain white skin had lost its color from shock. The maids had dressed her while she was unconscious to avoid any delays, and I had to admit, they did a damn good job. The fitted silk dress hugged her curves perfectly, cinching at the waist before flowing elegantly to the floor. The makeup they applied made her look more mature, stripping away the innocen
~Alina~ “No… no, no, no,” I sobbed, my vision blurred by tears. My hands trembled as I cradled Nana’s lifeless body, her warmth fading with every passing second. Guilla knelt beside me, wailing and rocking back and forth. The chaos around us continued—the sound of bodies dropping, bullets whizzing through the air, and men shouting orders in Italian. Through my haze of grief, I saw him. Valentino Romano—The devil I had just married. Drenched in blood, his white shirt was now crimson. His face was stone cold, void of remorse, void of anything human. His dark eyes burned with something raw, something terrifying. As I watched, he lifted his gun, aimed it at the man who shot Nana, and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The man collapsed, blood pooling beneath him. Valentino didn’t even flinch. He turned and killed another. Then another. I had never seen a man so merciless, so terrifyingly lethal. The Devil of Milan.
~Alina~ His fingers pressed into my thighs, spreading me wider, forcing me to yield to his control. A traitorous shiver rippled down my spine. No. I can’t let him break me. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Stop,” I groaned, the silk rope cutting deeper into my skin as I thrashed, my wrists burning. Valentino’s laugh was dark and mocking. “Begging already, principessa? [princess] And here I thought you wanted to make me pay.” His knee shoved between my legs, forcing them wider. The cold air hit my exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze, black with violence, dripping with something worse. Hunger. My stomach churned with disgust. “Get off me!” I spat in his face. The liquid splattered across his cheek. For a second, silence stretched between us. The tension in the air crackled, dangerous and charged. My heart pounded as I waited for his reaction, expecting rage. Violence. Instead, he laughed. A dark, rumbling sound that made
~Alina~ I was about to lash back at him when his mouth crashed onto mine, stealing my breath in a brutal, suffocating kiss, his teeth catching my lower lip until I tasted copper. I gasped, and he swallowed the sound, his tongue lashing against mine with a hunger that felt more like punishment than desire. His hand slid down my body, calloused fingers scraping over my nipple, pinching until I arched off the bed with a sharp cry. “Hmmm…” he moaned, rolling the tight peak between his fingers before leaning down to replace his hand with his teeth. I whimpered as he bit down, the pain lancing straight to my core, a twisted pleasure coiling low in my stomach. “Stop—ah!” My protest dissolved into a moan as his mouth moved lower, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down my sternum, pausing to flick his tongue over the bloodstain between my breasts. His dark chuckle vibrated against my skin. “You wear my sins so well.” He leaned back, and his hands found his belt as he began to unbuckl
~Valentino~ The dead didn’t give a damn how grand their funeral was. But the Romanos? We buried our kings like saints, then sent them to hell in style. Black silk suffocated the private chapel of Castello Romano, swallowing the walls, the windows, even the light. The air was heavy, thick enough to choke on, the cloying stench of lilies mixing with the sharper, metallic bite of gun oil. Outside, umbrellas leaned against the weeping sky, a sea of black, interrupted only by the shine of gold cufflinks and the occasional flash of a hidden weapon tucked beneath a jacket. Men in sharp black suits lined the pews, heads bowed low in a performance of respect, but the real emotion in the room was fouler. Greed, hunger, and silent joy. I stood at the front, knuckles bleached white where I gripped the edge of Padrino’s coffin. The wood was polished to a high shine, cold under my fingers. I glared at him, an unfamiliar ache blooming in my cold heart. He looked small now. Shrun
~Valentino~ “Careful, fratello [brother],” Lucchese sneered, raising both hands in a mocking surrender after he deliberately shoulder-checked me. His face, scarred and pockmarked from old fights, twisted into something between a grin and a snarl. His brown, rotting teeth flashed smugly at me, the stench of cheap cigars and cheaper whiskey rolling off him like a curse. “Scusa [Sorry],” he lied, the smirk never leaving his face. Rocco stiffened at my side, his hand flying toward the grip of his gun under his jacket, but I lifted a single finger, halting him without a glance. I held Lucchese’s gaze, letting the silence stretch until even his bravado flickered. Then, slowly like a weapon being drawn, I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief, pristine white and monogrammed. With disgust etched on my face, I dusted off my shoulder where he had touched me, as if scrubbing away filth. The handkerchief fluttered to the ground between us, a silent insul
~Alina~The rain had softened into a mist by the time we laid Nana to rest. We buried her in the backyard, in the little garden she loved so much, the one she spent her final days tending when her hands were still steady enough to hold a trowel. The grave was simple and humble, just the way she would have wanted.A few neighbors and some old family friends came to offer their condolences, their black clothes still damp from the earlier storm. Their murmured prayers floated weakly in the heavy, damp air.Guilia and I stood side by side, our hands clutching each other tightly, silent tears sliding down our cheeks. I could barely hear the priest’s final words over the sound of my own heart breaking.When it was done, we climbed into the back of the sleek black Maserati that Rocco had parked by the curb. We still shivered from the cold and grief as the car rumbled to life, pulling away from Nana’s house for the last time.Soon, we were back at Castello Romano, pulling into the stone drive
~VALENTINO’S POV~ The door creaked open, and before I even looked up, that cloud of expensive perfume hit me straight in the face. Bianca Romano. She didn’t walk into the room. She stalked in like a queen, wrapped in red silk so tight it looked painted on, a slit up her thigh flashing every time she moved. Every step, every toss of her fake-blonde hair, every flash of lace between her legs, screaming look at me, pick me. Pathetic. I leaned back in my chair, slow and easy, dragging in a breath through my nose. Here we fucking go again. Bianca is Padrino’s niece. Twenty-six years old and spoiled straight through to the bone marrow. She grew up gnawing on resentment while the Padrino’s empire rose without her useless father’s name on it. Her bitter old father taught her young: if you couldn’t build power, seduce it. If you couldn’t win respect, weaponize your beauty until weak men begged for your scraps. She hopped up onto the edge of my desk like she belonged there, spreading
~Alina~ Guilia’s eyes widened in confusion, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked at me, as if trying to process the sudden shift in the air. Her hand instinctively reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against mine. “What’s wrong?” she whispered, her voice tight with concern. She scanned my face, searching for any hint of what had just crossed my mind, but I could see the same panic start to build in her own eyes. “How do we get to Toronto this week?” Guilia sat up straighter, determination lighting her tired face. “We have to return without alerting him. He must not know about this inheritance, Guilia.” My heart pounded in my chest as I remembered what he’d said two days ago—that my father owed him. If, by sheer chance, he learns about this inheritance, he’s taking everything. I can’t risk it. “What’s your husband’s schedule?” I flinched at the word. “Don’t call him my husband,” I snapped, the anger flashing before I could stop it. “Bu
~Alina~The rain had softened into a mist by the time we laid Nana to rest. We buried her in the backyard, in the little garden she loved so much, the one she spent her final days tending when her hands were still steady enough to hold a trowel. The grave was simple and humble, just the way she would have wanted.A few neighbors and some old family friends came to offer their condolences, their black clothes still damp from the earlier storm. Their murmured prayers floated weakly in the heavy, damp air.Guilia and I stood side by side, our hands clutching each other tightly, silent tears sliding down our cheeks. I could barely hear the priest’s final words over the sound of my own heart breaking.When it was done, we climbed into the back of the sleek black Maserati that Rocco had parked by the curb. We still shivered from the cold and grief as the car rumbled to life, pulling away from Nana’s house for the last time.Soon, we were back at Castello Romano, pulling into the stone drive
~Valentino~ “Careful, fratello [brother],” Lucchese sneered, raising both hands in a mocking surrender after he deliberately shoulder-checked me. His face, scarred and pockmarked from old fights, twisted into something between a grin and a snarl. His brown, rotting teeth flashed smugly at me, the stench of cheap cigars and cheaper whiskey rolling off him like a curse. “Scusa [Sorry],” he lied, the smirk never leaving his face. Rocco stiffened at my side, his hand flying toward the grip of his gun under his jacket, but I lifted a single finger, halting him without a glance. I held Lucchese’s gaze, letting the silence stretch until even his bravado flickered. Then, slowly like a weapon being drawn, I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief, pristine white and monogrammed. With disgust etched on my face, I dusted off my shoulder where he had touched me, as if scrubbing away filth. The handkerchief fluttered to the ground between us, a silent insul
~Valentino~ The dead didn’t give a damn how grand their funeral was. But the Romanos? We buried our kings like saints, then sent them to hell in style. Black silk suffocated the private chapel of Castello Romano, swallowing the walls, the windows, even the light. The air was heavy, thick enough to choke on, the cloying stench of lilies mixing with the sharper, metallic bite of gun oil. Outside, umbrellas leaned against the weeping sky, a sea of black, interrupted only by the shine of gold cufflinks and the occasional flash of a hidden weapon tucked beneath a jacket. Men in sharp black suits lined the pews, heads bowed low in a performance of respect, but the real emotion in the room was fouler. Greed, hunger, and silent joy. I stood at the front, knuckles bleached white where I gripped the edge of Padrino’s coffin. The wood was polished to a high shine, cold under my fingers. I glared at him, an unfamiliar ache blooming in my cold heart. He looked small now. Shrun
~Alina~ I was about to lash back at him when his mouth crashed onto mine, stealing my breath in a brutal, suffocating kiss, his teeth catching my lower lip until I tasted copper. I gasped, and he swallowed the sound, his tongue lashing against mine with a hunger that felt more like punishment than desire. His hand slid down my body, calloused fingers scraping over my nipple, pinching until I arched off the bed with a sharp cry. “Hmmm…” he moaned, rolling the tight peak between his fingers before leaning down to replace his hand with his teeth. I whimpered as he bit down, the pain lancing straight to my core, a twisted pleasure coiling low in my stomach. “Stop—ah!” My protest dissolved into a moan as his mouth moved lower, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down my sternum, pausing to flick his tongue over the bloodstain between my breasts. His dark chuckle vibrated against my skin. “You wear my sins so well.” He leaned back, and his hands found his belt as he began to unbuckl
~Alina~ His fingers pressed into my thighs, spreading me wider, forcing me to yield to his control. A traitorous shiver rippled down my spine. No. I can’t let him break me. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Stop,” I groaned, the silk rope cutting deeper into my skin as I thrashed, my wrists burning. Valentino’s laugh was dark and mocking. “Begging already, principessa? [princess] And here I thought you wanted to make me pay.” His knee shoved between my legs, forcing them wider. The cold air hit my exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze, black with violence, dripping with something worse. Hunger. My stomach churned with disgust. “Get off me!” I spat in his face. The liquid splattered across his cheek. For a second, silence stretched between us. The tension in the air crackled, dangerous and charged. My heart pounded as I waited for his reaction, expecting rage. Violence. Instead, he laughed. A dark, rumbling sound that made
~Alina~ “No… no, no, no,” I sobbed, my vision blurred by tears. My hands trembled as I cradled Nana’s lifeless body, her warmth fading with every passing second. Guilla knelt beside me, wailing and rocking back and forth. The chaos around us continued—the sound of bodies dropping, bullets whizzing through the air, and men shouting orders in Italian. Through my haze of grief, I saw him. Valentino Romano—The devil I had just married. Drenched in blood, his white shirt was now crimson. His face was stone cold, void of remorse, void of anything human. His dark eyes burned with something raw, something terrifying. As I watched, he lifted his gun, aimed it at the man who shot Nana, and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The man collapsed, blood pooling beneath him. Valentino didn’t even flinch. He turned and killed another. Then another. I had never seen a man so merciless, so terrifyingly lethal. The Devil of Milan.
~Valentino~ I stretched out a hand to her, my gaze locking onto her perfect, full-figured body. For some reason, I had always preferred curvier women. Society glorified tall, thin women with sharp cheekbones and endless legs, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted a woman with flesh, softness, and curves that could handle a man like me. Alina had all that and more. Her rich, dark hair cascaded past her back in loose waves, framing a heart-shaped face. Her bright green eyes were filled with fear, an emotion that, for some reason, intrigued me. Her full lips trembled slightly, and her porcelain white skin had lost its color from shock. The maids had dressed her while she was unconscious to avoid any delays, and I had to admit, they did a damn good job. The fitted silk dress hugged her curves perfectly, cinching at the waist before flowing elegantly to the floor. The makeup they applied made her look more mature, stripping away the innocen