Valentina #2
Residence: Primary estate, subject to Don's approval for any absences exceeding 48 hours.
I'd be a prisoner.
Conduct: Wife will maintain appropriate appearance and behavior befitting the Vitale name at all times. This includes but is not limited to: public events, family gatherings, and any situation where the Don's reputation may be affected.
Property. He's describing property, not a person.
Fidelity: The wife will share the Don's bed when requested.
Both parties agree to sexual exclusivity for the duration of the contract.
Violation of this clause by the wife results in immediate termination and forfeiture of all protections.
Violation by the Don results in financial compensation as outlined in Appendix C.
My stomach turns. He can buy his way out of cheating. I can't. Not that I could afford it, but I don't like this clause one bit. What am I thinking? I don't like any of this crazy shit. I continue reading.
Heirs: Wife agrees to attempt conception and produce at least one child within the first three years of marriage.
No. No, no, no.
Termination: Marriage may be dissolved only under terms specified in Section 12 (see attached), or upon death of either party. Early termination initiated by wife results in reinstatement of original debt plus penalties to be paid by wife's family.
I'm trapped. Completely trapped.
"This is insane," I whisper.
Salvatore moves closer, and I can feel the heat of him now. His scent is strong, and overwhelmingly dangerous.
"Sign it, and your family lives. Comfortable. Safe. Protected. You get to know they're okay."
He crouches down, bringing himself to my eye level, and the proximity makes my heart race for entirely different reasons.
His face is inches from mine. I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. The faint scar bisecting his left eyebrow. The cruel perfection of his mouth.
The same eyes that looked at me in the library like I was interesting. Like I was worth lingering over.
I'd loved that feeling.
I hate that I remember loving it.
"Refuse," he continues, his voice dropping to something almost intimate, "and I'll start collecting your father's debt in pieces." "Your sister plays piano, doesn't she?" His gaze never leaves mine. "It would be unfortunate if she lost the use of her hands."
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I won't give him the satisfaction.
"You're a monster," I breathe.
"Yes." He doesn't even blink. "But I'm a monster who keeps his word. Sign that contract, and I swear on my father's grave that your family will be untouchable. No one will hurt them. No one will threaten them. They'll live better than they ever have. But most importantly, the debt will be cleared."
His hand comes up, and I flinch. But he doesn't strike. Just brushes his knuckles along my jawline.
"And what about me?" The question comes out barely audible.
His gaze drops to my mouth, lingers there, then returns to my eyes. Heat flickers there now, dark and dangerous and unmistakable.
"You'll be my wife. You'll live in luxury. You'll want for nothing."
“You mean except my freedom, my peace of mind, and love?”
His thumb strokes along my jaw, and my skin burns where he touches.
He drags his thumb slowly across my upper lip. The touch is light, yet possessive. My breath hitches and he notices.
"Careful, Valentina," he murmurs.
"You look like you want to be kissed."
His thumb traces my lower lip now, and I can barely breathe.
"Once you're my wife, you'll be mine. Completely. Permanently. Your loyalty, your time, your body." He looks down at my body before finishing. "All of it. All of you belong to me."
He leans closer still, until his lips are nearly brushing mine.
"I protect what belongs to me. Viciously. Permanently."
"I need time to think."
"No." His grip on my jaw tightens slightly. Not painful, but firm. Unmistakable. "You'll decide now. Sign or leave and accept the consequences."
I close my eyes. Think of Sofia, my little sister, who just turned nineteen and so full of dreams, still believing the world is beautiful and good.
When we were younger, we moved around a lot. She's too young to remember, but I remember clearly. One state to the next. Small towns, large cities. I could never keep friends because I was in a new school almost every year, and once we moved across the country in the middle of the school year.
I always knew something was wrong, but my parents seemed so... normal. So boring. When I begged not to leave the elementary school I attended in fourth grade because I'd finally made friends, my parents told me my father was in the military and had to move whenever he was reassigned.
So many lies. And I never bothered calling them out.
When my father landed a job at the university, everything finally felt normal. I befriended Lindsay in high school and was able to keep that friendship.
I always knew something was off, but I chose to ignore it. I chose not to ask questions.
And now... now I'm paying for my ignorance.
But I refuse to let Sofia suffer too.
Then I think of my mother. Of the life I'd planned. Graduate degree. Maybe teaching someday. Perhaps someone who'd love me for more than my usefulness. A quiet life surrounded by books and history and beauty.
All of it, gone.
Destroyed by my father's choices and this man's cruelty.
But at least Sofia and Mom could survive. Could have good lives. Could be safe.
If I just sign my name.
I look at him again.
Even knowing what I know now, even knowing the library was a performance, that the charm was a calculation, that the man who made me feel seen was doing nothing more than inspecting what he intended to acquire, even knowing all of it...
He's still the most dangerously attractive person I've ever stood this close to.
The kind of man who makes the room feel smaller simply by standing in it.
His strong jaw is shadowed with perfectly groomed stubble; those dark eyes so intent they feel invasive, like they can see straight through to my soul.
His presence hasn't changed. It was real then. It's real now. The worst part is that the very thing that drew me in the history aisle, that coiled, patient, predatory stillness, is exactly the thing I'm afraid of in this office.
I was attracted to the danger without knowing what it was.
He doesn’t say anything, just watches me until I give in. "Where do I sign?"
Salvatore's expression doesn't change, but I can see satisfaction in his eyes.
"Page twenty-eight. Initial every page." I take my time going through each clause. Finally, I pick up the pen, but quickly set it down again.
"Something wrong?"
"Section 7. Paragraph 3." I point to the line about approved absences. "Change forty-eight hours to one week."
His eyebrows rose. Barely. But I saw it.
"You're negotiating."
“You want a wife who looks like she wants to be here? Give me room to breathe."
The silence stretches. Then he pulls the contract toward him, crosses out "48 hours," writes "7 days," and initials the change.
“Anything else?” he asks.
“The fidelity clause.”
“Is non-negotiable,” he replies.
I study him for a moment. “So you can pay your way out of faithfulness?”
“I won’t.”
The certainty in his voice makes something tighten inside me, but I hold his gaze anyway.
“Then why have it?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for the pen, draws a firm line through the clause on the page, and sets the pen down again.
“There,” he says quietly.
He holds my gaze, steady and unflinching, and suddenly the room feels charged.
My hand trembles as I take the pen again. I sign before I lose my nerve.
When I reach the final page, I hesitate. This is it. The moment I sign away every choice, every freedom, every dream I ever had and become… his. An obligation. A transaction.
"Valentina." His voice is softer now. Almost kind. The voice from the library aisle. "I will never hurt you, and your family will be safe. I give you my word."
I put the pen down and look away as soon as I'm done.
The ink is still wet when Salvatore takes the contract and I turn to face him. He examines my signature with the careful attention of a man who misses nothing, then nods with satisfaction.
He sets the contract aside and looks at me with an intensity that raises every hair on my body.
"Do you know what name you agreed to take?" he asks quietly.
"Vitale. Your name."
"My name," he agrees. "A legacy. A bloodline. A dynasty that goes back generations." He pauses. "I'm repairing damage that's overdue."
The words hang in the air like a threat.
"I don't understand."