LOGINShe married him for safety. He married her for strategy. Neither expected obsession. Valeria Torres is a woman with no past-because she buried it. But when her fake identity lands her in the arms of Dante Romano, billionaire mafia heir and the man everyone fears, the game changes. He offers her a deal: a two-year marriage to clean up his image and silence his enemies. She agrees-until the ghosts she ran from reappear and force her back into the life she burned to escape. Now, she has to outwit killers, deceive her husband, and survive the one thing she never planned for-falling for him.
View MoreIT ALL STARTED IN ROME, 2010
He walked among the dead bodies in the park, his eyes searching every single familiar face.
“Sir, we need to leave,” Nicholas said as he followed him, but Victor Kade raised a hand to stop him from getting close. He saw his very close friend and squatted next to him, watching his body. His body had been brutally cut, and his left hand was severed; it was the sign of the Zachary belt whenever they attacked. Victor felt a tear run down his face. Brown had died in his place.
“Boss, we need to leave,” Nicholas said again. “We have to get out of here,” he added, looking out for any attacker. Victor stood up and made to leave when suddenly a hand grabbed his leg. Instinctively, Nicholas shot at Brown, and Victor screamed out in anger.
“Fuck, I didn't know…”
“Get the fuck out!” Victor shouted at him as he got down to Brown, holding him. “Brown, Brown.” He shook him vigorously. Felix opened his eyes slowly, life slipping out of him.
“Pro…tect my…chil…dren,” he said and dropped lifeless.
“Brown… Brown,” Victor screamed out loud.
Los Angeles, March 2025
“I am sick and done,” Isabella said, pulling off the apron and slamming it on her boss’s table. “I quit.”
“Isabella,” he shouted in a way to scare her, but she wasn't having it.
“How long has it been? How long? I have been working, and you… you are a bloody thief! You haven't paid me even once.”
“You are fired!” he screamed, and she laughed. In sudden anger, she cleared his desk.
“What is wrong with you?”
“I just want to let you know that you can't fire someone who isn't working under you,” she said, then pointed at him. “I will get my money in full.” She spat at him and turned to leave the restaurant. She had been working the past months and had only been given half of every due, which she couldn't tolerate anymore. She would rather find jobs elsewhere.
As she walked out in anger, she brushed past a person and shot her eyes at him.
“Watch your way,” she said, still reeling in her frustration.
“You should,” he replied, his eyes studying her face, but she wasn't having it. She made to walk past him when his guard stepped into her way.
“Now, what is this?” she asked, turning back to the man.
“You haven't apologized,” he said, and she gave a bitter chuckle.
“I have nowhere to go, so he can stay in my way for as long as he wishes,” she said, and he turned to face her.
“My name is Kevin Zacchaeous.” He extended a hand.
“I… don't care,” she said, storming past the guard and out of the restaurant.
Her phone started ringing as she waved down a bus. It was her brother, Jason.
“Hey, baby boy,” she said as soon as she picked up the call, with a smile on her face.
“Sister, how are you doing?” he asked with a not-so-cheerful voice. She sat by the window.
“I'm doing just fine, and you?” she asked, fear of what was coming already hitting her.
“I'm good. It's just…” he paused. “I don't mean to burden you, sister, but I need my practical note as soon as possible,” he said.
She exhaled, exhausted; she knew it.
“I will get it to you, Jason. Before the end of the week,” she said.
“Alright, sister. Take care of yourself,” he said and hung up.
She dropped the call and dropped her head on her lap. She was drained, emotionally, physically, and most importantly, financially. The bus stopped at her stop, and Isabella Hart walked down to her apartment. Valerie Hart was standing by her door and smiled as soon as she saw Isabella.
“What are you doing here?” Isabella asked, looking at her mother.
“Isa, I am clean now. I'm not doing drugs anymore,” Valerie said, and Isabella laughed bitterly.
“How much do you need?” she asked.
“Just… just a little bit of money,” Valerie said desperately. She looked stricken by the effects of the substance.
Isabella took some money from her pocket and gave it to her. Valerie grabbed it with gratitude.
“Don't ever come back here,” she said.
“I will never,” Valerie said, turned, and Isabella watched her mother's disappearing figure before opening her door. She went to crash on the bed as her heart tightened in her chest. She was losing it all.
Her phone started ringing again, and she brought it out from her pocket, wondering which other bill Jason wanted to remind her about… but it was Delaney, her best friend, calling.
“Hey, bestie,” Delaney’s cheerful voice was enough to raise her spirit.
“Delaney,” she breathed out, stressed.
“So I passed by your restaurant, and one of your colleagues said you quit. You finally listened to me… Congratulations, my sweetie. I'll pick you up by evening to celebrate freedom, and don't you dare say no,” she said immediately. “It's my treat,” she added, but Isabella wasn't cut out for a party. She had her whole life crushing right in front of her.
“Delaney…”
“Bye, see you by evening, and I will really be angry if you ain't dressed,” Delaney interrupted and hung up.
Isabella dropped the call and sat up, massaging her temple slowly while thinking. Maybe she needed some alcohol in her system after all.
Later that evening, Delaney Walker pulled up in front of her house in her Mercedes-Benz S-Class. Isabella walked into her car and shut the door.
“You're glowing, Isa. Look at that skin! Being out suits you so well,” Delaney said, smiling, and Isabella rolled her eyes. Delaney was fond of hyping.
“I just quit today, Delan,” Isa said.
“Oh, I forgot… Can you see what it feels like to quit where you are being used?” Delaney asked, then keyed her car. “We are going partying,” she added, and Isabella looked at her.
“Don't you think I'm doing it the wrong way? I mean, there's no job yet, and what…?”
“I'd rather pay you than have you continue working at that godforsaken restaurant. You know how much I've been bugging you to quit. Well, tonight is not for regrets,” Delaney said, and Isa rested her back.
Delaney pulled the car into a car park as she vibed to the music from the party. She turned to Isabella and tapped her hand.
“Don't ghost on me. Get down, let's get to the party,” she said.
Isabella took her fancy little bag and got out of the car. They had barely gotten to the entrance of the club when a young, handsome-looking man came out.
“Hi.” They hugged, and Isa watched him smile sheepishly.
“You must be Delaney,” he said.
“Of course,” she said, then turned to introduce Isa. “My best friend since a very long time, Isabella. Isabella, meet—”
“I'll pass,” Isa said.
He definitely was another of Delaney’s one-time boyfriends that she met on some social media, and they were never meeting him again.
“Come on in. I have a whole lot of enjoyment planned for you,” he said, gesturing to them.
Delaney tugged at her hand when she brushed past her.
“Be polite. I might work out with this one,” she said, and Isabella chuckled for the first time since the day began. Delaney joined in her chuckling as they tried to keep their distance.
“Damn, see his shoe,” Delaney said, and Isabella used every fiber in her to hold her laughter.
“Delaney, please,” she said, but Delaney was grinning. At first meeting, Delaney tends to critically analyze her date, and already Isabella knew he held no chance.
They followed him to his group of friends, who all tried to remain polite, but midway into the conversation, Delaney went on to dance with her new date. His friend tried to engage her in a conversation, but she wasn't having it. She left their table and went to the bar, ordering drinks and downing them glass after glass.
Slowly the whole club became so big. She stood up and was tipsy. Then she turned and saw a clown. He looked so serious, downing his own glasses, and he was in a suit.
Who the heck wears a suit to a club?
Her boss.
She staggered to him, crashing right into the space in front of him.
“Get your suit off,” she said. “I mean right now,” she commanded, trying to hold her foot.
“Get yourself a seat,” he dismissed her. “Another glass,” he said to the bartender.
What? He dismissed her just like that? What does he take her for, some boring old lady?
“You will not do that.” She crashed into his lap, taking hold of his face and smooching him immediately. He pushed her back, but she wasn't having it. She was sucking on his lips as though her whole world depended on it.
VALERIAYeah, I lied. Obviously. But I was genuinely hyped about the whole store hunting... past tense—I was excited till I had to inspect eight stores, none of which fit into my perfect Elle Woods meets Sophia Vergara aesthetic.Trust me, it's hard to settle for less when you've had a certain idea ingrained into your brain for years. Every single spot had something wrong with them and I just knew I couldn't picture myself serving coffee in any of those sad, dusty little buildings. By the ninth store, I was bracing for another round of disappointment, but it turned out perfect. Too perfect.I mean, why else would it be across from Matteo's office? Cute coincidence, right? I know, I thought the same when I suggested a popular café to meet with my interior designer only to find out it's also a few streets away from Matteo's home. God really loves arranging my steps like Pinterest boards.Which is why I'm parked across from my new store, in one of Dante's Mercedes, munching on a double c
VALERIADiego won’t stop calling. Every time he does, he makes me swear I’m not about to do something crazy, and every time I swear I won’t. And I won’t. Something crazy would be storming straight to them with no plan, killing them, and ending up in handcuffs. I’m not stupid. A bit crazy, sure—but definitely not stupid.I don’t think Diego believes me, though. Not completely. He’s still dragging his feet on sending the rest of their information, but eventually he’s going to run out of excuses.My eyes drift lazily over my laptop screen as I read about Matteo. Turns out he’s in the same city as me. He lives in one of those fancy, schmancy suburb bungalows in Rosehill; three kids, a wife—basically a dealer who hides behind a construction company. I wrinkle my nose at his picture: clean-cut suit, a haircut trying to disguise a receding hairline, and that billion-dollar “I’m a relatable businessman” smile. My stomach turns. I shut off the screen.Fucking rapist.That’s enough research for
WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC SEXUAL VIOLENCE, RAPE, ASSAULT, MURDER, TRAUMA, STRONG LANGUAGE, AND REVENGE THEMES. READER DISCRETION ADVISED.VALERIAAs a little girl, I dreamed big—actress, a pop star, designer maybe or a model... basically anything that would slap my face on Vogue and of course lots of paparazzi attention.Well, here I am... margarita in one hand, phone in the other, scrolling—when I see a picture of me and Dante on the Daily Mail. My lips curl at the headline; Blue Cyber CEO spotted with new lover. New lover, alright.I take a sip of my drink, grinning in satisfaction, then proceed to go through the pictures, analyzing which ones captured my best angles. Shots of other attendees pop up too, most faces I don't recognize, all except Alex—or do I call her Alessio? She has on one of those Barbie smiles that does a good job hiding her vile personality, blonde waves fall over shoulders, not a single strand out of place... the typical nepo baby who thinks she's A
DANTEI leave the house earlier than usual. Work’s one reason. The bigger one? Staying in the same space as Valeria after last night is… distracting. Annoyingly distracting.The drive is quiet. Calm. Exactly how I like my mornings.But her voice keeps sliding back into my head—her laugh, her dumb jokes, that ridiculous “thanks for all the orgasms” line she tossed out like she was talking about the weather.Most women cling after sex. I’m used to it. They hover, get soft-eyed, start asking all the wrong questions—one of the many reasons I don’t do commitment.But Valeria? No. She jokes. She eats her breakfast like nothing happened, teases me like nothing has changed.And that should make things easier. Really, yet it doesn't.I pinch the bridge of my nose lightly as the car comes to a halt, the door opens, and I step out. The image of her from this morning flicks through my fucking thoughts. Again—messy blonde curls, swollen lips, wearing my T-shirt like she owned it. And all I could t
VALERIAAfter three rounds of sex, your body tends to remind you that you're only human. I don't think I've ever felt this stretched–like my body still remembers Dante. I turn to my side slow and careful not to wake him up.Dark waves fan his pillow, chest rising and falling with each breath. A sma
VALERIAFucked up.It's always been like this. Things get good, then bad. Every damn time. A fucked up carnival with a looney at the wheel. And each time I walk out stronger, fiercer... at least that's what I tell myself—with a smile plastered on like a mask.I shut the door and rest my forehead ag
VALERIA “Dinner’s pretty damn good, huh?” I ask, taking a bite of empanadas. Diego nods beside me, face flushed. He grabs his glass of water, sniffling. “Fuck!” I drop my fork and pat his back. “Is it too spicy?” Dante snorts across the table. “No,” he rasps, coughing once. “Just not used to
VALERIAWalking into Dante's kitchen, I can’t believe I’ve never used this place before—there’s a huge island, smart tech everywhere, endless counter space, and every cooking gadget you could imagine."Wow," I breathe out."You like?" Helen, the head housekeeper asks, the pride in her voice ringing
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