To Dante Moretti.
Each word echoes, each repetition carving deeper into my thoughts.What choice do I have?For now, none.But tomorrow?I’ll find a way out.There has to be one.
He can’t force me down the aisle.
I angle my chin as determination turns into icy resolve.
I’ll play his game, learn his weaknesses, and turn it against him.
He folds his arms across the broad expanse of his chest, his expression implacable.“Make the call, Valentina.Tell your father you’re going to be my wife.”
ChapterFive
Valentina
My mind spins in a whirlwind of outrage as cold dread collides inside me.The wordmarriedechoes through every nerve, carving deeper with each repetition, like a blade etching into stone.
Dante Moretti stands there, arms folded across his massive chest, his expression as unyielding as the walls trapping me in this room.
He’s not just my captor anymore—he’s positioning himself as my future husband, a twisted, depraved knot binding our families to prevent the war he’s ignited with this abduction.
And at what cost?My freedom, my choices, my life—all sacrificed on the altar of his vengeance.
I sink deeper onto the edge of the bed, the cool sheets, a stark contrast to the heat flushing my skin.
My bare feet press into the floor, and a sharp sting reminds me of the glass shard I stepped on earlier.Ignoring it, I force my thoughts to sharpen.
Diplomacy is my weapon now, the only one left in this gilded cage.
If I play this right, I can buy time, find a crack in his plan.Refuse, and he’ll drug me again—that much is clear from the steel in his eyes.Compliance, strategic and measured, might give me leverage.
I lift my chin, meeting his gaze head-on.The air between us thickens, charged with the remnants of our earlier struggle—his blood smeared on his jaw, my wrist still tingling from his grip.“Fine.”My voice emerges steady, laced with the resolve I’ve honed at my father’s side.“But if you want this call to go smoothly, give me my phone back.There’s a better chance he’ll answer that way.”
He tilts his head slightly, a faint smile curving his lips, not reaching his eyes.It sends a shiver down my spine, part predatory, part amused, as if he’s anticipating my every move.“Oh, he’ll answer.”
The words hang there, simple and absolute, underscoring his control.My father, the man who rules Dallas with an iron fist, reduced to a pawn in Dante’s game.
His phone feels heavier than it should be.
I curl my fingers around it, the cool metal grounding me as I weigh my options.I wanted my own phone so I could signal that I was in trouble.
But Moretti is right.Fabrizio Russo won’t ignore his call.
Especially if he knows I’m gone.
But does he?
I have no idea if Santo knows anything.
As it is, I’ll have to navigate this conversation under Moretti’s watchful stare, every word supervised, every inflection a potential betrayal.
I exhale slowly, the breath steadying the frantic beat of my heart.
Strategy first: confirm I’m alive and relay the marriage demand.
“Do it, Valentina.”Dante nods toward the phone, his posture unchanging.
What choice do I have?
