“She’ll learn.”
Matteo’s expression sharpens.
“You sound like you’re planning to keep her past the three years.”
I don’t answer, because I’m not sure I have an answer.
Three years seemed like a reasonable timeline when I drafted the contract. Long enough to produce an heir, establish her as part of the family, make the alliance permanent. Short enough that if things don’t work out, we can part ways with minimal complications.
But already, after one meeting, one signature, one moment of her looking at me with those dark, defiant eyes, three years feels both too long and not nearly long enough.
“What about Maria?” Matteo asks. “Are you planning to tell her? That her daughter is marrying into the family?”
“Eventually.”
“I’m not sure about this, Sal.”
“This is justice.” I meet his gaze. “Maria Castellano made her choice. She chose a normal life over duty. She chose love over loyalty. She chose to run instead of honoring her family’s commitment.”
I pause.
“Now she gets to watch her daughter make a different choice.”
“Does this really sound like a good idea to you?”
“I’m giving her options. Marry me, or watch her family suffer. That’s more of a choice than my father gave Vincent Castellano when he executed him.”
Matteo shakes his head slowly. “You’re missing the point. Father eliminated Vincent. That was payment for his daughter’s betrayal.” His gaze sharpens. “Marco is next. When he’s gone,the slate is clean.” He gestures dismissively. “Marrying her strengthens nothing. She brings no power, no money, no protection. Only exposure. This arrangement weakens us. It should end, now.”
“No, I’m writing a wrong that should have never happened.” I’m certain of this, at least. “I’m going to give Valentina everything her mother was too weak to claim. Power. Protection. A legacy. She’ll thank me eventually.”
“Or she’ll hate you forever.”
“Hate is better than indifference.” I stand and move to the windows overlooking the estate grounds. “At least hate is a feeling. Don’t you miss those days, brother, when we felt shit?”
“It’s all part of the family business,” he says simply before draining the whisky from his glass.
“Call this what you want, brother, obviously, you like this woman because you’re not thinking clearly. The plan was to assassinate Marco. You saw his daughter’s photo, and everything fucking changed. It’s a picture; you know nothing about the real woman.”
I know everything I need to know.
Matteo leaves, still disapproving, and I’m alone with my thoughts and the memory of Valentina’s face when she signed that contract.
The fear in her eyes. The defiance underneath. The way she trembled when I touched her jaw but didn’t pull away.
The way her pupils dilated when I got close. Terror and desire both written across her face. That combination is intoxicating. I pull up the security feed on my computer. She's in her suite, on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest. Crying. Silent sobs shake her shoulders. Her face is buried in her arms. She's broken down completely in the privacy of thatlocked room. I should feel satisfaction. Confirmation that she understands the gravity of her situation, that she won't try anything stupid. Instead, that same uncomfortable twist in my chest returns.
Guilt? No. I don’t do guilt.
Regret? Closer, but not quite.
Possessiveness. That’s what it is.
She’s mine now. Signed and sealed. And seeing her in pain, even pain I caused, triggers something protective in me.
I don’t want her broken. I want her bent. Shaped to fit perfectly at my side.
She walks into her bathroom, and I can no longer see her. That’s the one room where I allow her to have complete privacy.
