Chapter 11 Valentina
VALENTINA
Maksim’s garden is much like him. Perfectly trimmed. Symmetrical. Controlled.
It appears pleasant, but there’s an undercurrent of darkness.
I take smaller steps, hyperaware of the distance ten paces is between me and Cristian.
It feels like a million miles.
With each step, I fight the urge to look back at Cristian, to feel his strength, his protection.
But bringing awareness to him will only make things worse.
Maksim is a man who expects everyone in his presence to focus only on him.
"These roses were imported from Bulgaria," Maksim explains, his fingers digging slightly into my hip as he guides me closer to blood-red blooms. "They required special cultivation to survive our climate."
I know for a fact that it’s not true.
I’m no master gardener, but my mother loved roses and I remember walking through the garden with her learning about the plants and flowers.
Bulgarian roses are grown in a climate not so different from ours in Long Island, New York.
"They're lovely," I manage, trying not to show my repulsion at Maksim's touch.
"Much like you," he continues. "A rare beauty requiring… special handling."
Asshole. I know his words aren’t complementary. No, he sees me as something wild to be tamed, like his garden.
"I'm hardly as delicate as a flower," I counter, keeping my tone light to avoid annoying him and yet unwilling to submit to his will.
His grip tightens fractionally. "No? I find that most beautiful things break quite easily when tested."
The threat isn't veiled at all.
I catch sight of Cristian in my peripheral vision, just enough to see the way his hands remain slightly open at his sides, ready to reach for his weapon.
"I'm a Dante," I remind Maksim, dropping all pretense of a subservient woman. "We don't break."
His laughter lacks warmth. "We'll see."
He steers me toward a stone bench partially hidden by a towering hedge, isolating us further from Cristian's watchful gaze.
My heart hammers as I lose sight of him, but I maintain my composure.
This is a power play, nothing more.
"Tell me," Maksim murmurs, his lips uncomfortably close to my ear, "are you truly as pure as your brother promised?"
My blood turns to ice. "I was raised to honor traditional values. My virtue, like my loyalty, remains intact."
For now. I chose Cristian to initiate me into sex because he was loyal and decent, which are the very reasons he’s resisting me. And damn him, it makes me want him more.
"Such a rare quality in a modern woman." Maksim's fingers trace up my arm, and I want to squirm. "I must commend your family on maintaining certain standards."
"My brothers are protective," I reply. "Family values are important to us."
"Family." He nods. "The foundation of everything we do, is it not?"
He speaks of family with the same enthusiasm one might discuss taxes.
I think of my brothers, stubborn, infuriating, but genuinely loving.
Even in Alessandro's worst moments, when his duty as Don overtakes his role as brother, there's still warmth beneath his calculations.
And Luca, the most terrifying of all of them, is a marshmallow when it comes to his new wife and son.
Thinking of Luca, I consider mentioning him as a reminder of who will come for Maksim if he hurts me.
But Maksim is attempting to be pleasant.
What’s the saying?
Don’t poke a sleeping bear?
Maksim continues his pleasant conversation, asking about my education, my hobbies, my favorite foods, all with that condescending smile.
As if he’s studied how to make small talk and is going through the moves.
He doesn’t really care about me.
"I must confess," Maksim says, his voice dropping to a whisper as if we’re sharing an intimate moment, "since our first introduction, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind."
His gaze travels down my body, lingering in places that make my stomach clench.
"That dress you wore the other day…" His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "Such fire. Such defiance in your choice. I've thought about it nonstop."
My throat constricts.
The dress I wore specifically to entice Cristian, not this man.
"I had no idea my wardrobe would make such an impression," I manage.
"Everything about you makes an impression, Valentina." The way he says my name feels like a slimy caress. "Your eyes, your lips, the way you move. I've imagined how you'll look in our bed, all that spirit finally unleashed for my pleasure alone."
Bile rises in my throat.
This is what awaits me.
A lifetime of being this man's possession, my body a playground for his appetites.
Until he’s done and disposes of me.
"Perhaps we should rejoin my guard," I suggest, unable to hide my disgust entirely.
"Why? Are you uncomfortable being alone with your future husband?" A hint of irritation flashes in his eyes. "You'll need to get used to it."
The rage building inside me is dangerous. I may be trapped in this arrangement, but I will never truly be his.
"When we are married," Maksim continues, "you will live by certain rules.
My wife does not speak unless spoken to at gatherings.
My wife dresses as I approve. That dress, for instance, will be for my eyes only.
And I know your father and brothers have indulged you too much in the family business, but my wife does not handle business matters. "
I bite my lip to keep from saying something about his misogyny.
His fingers close around my wrist as he leans closer. "On our wedding night, I will strip you bare and examine every inch of you. I've always enjoyed taking my time with virgins—breaking them in slowly, teaching them what pleases me."
My stomach churns violently.
"I particularly enjoy when a woman begs. First for mercy, then later for more." His eyes gleam with something dark and terrible. "They always learn to beg for more eventually."
I focus on a distant tree, imagining how satisfying it would be to drive a blade into his heart.
The fantasy keeps me from trembling as he leans closer.
"You'll be trained to use that pretty mouth for more than sharp retorts," he murmurs against my ear. "And when I bend you over my desk while I conduct business, you'll learn to stay silent no matter what I do to you."
I keep my breath steady, even though revulsion fills every cell of my body.
"Of course," he adds, releasing my wrist to stroke my cheek, "once you've been properly broken in, you'll serve your primary purpose." His hand drifts to hover over my abdomen. "Providing heirs for my empire."
The thought of carrying this man's children is the final violation I cannot bear to contemplate. "How many children do you desire?"
"Two sons, at minimum," he answers with the confidence of a man who believes he controls even biology. "You'll be kept pregnant until you deliver what I require."
Good God. He’s like a superhero villain come to life.
"You'll be kept comfortable, naturally," Maksim continues as if discussing a business transaction. "Your own wing in my home, though I expect you available in my bed whenever I desire. No locked doors between us."
I gently wrap my hand around a rose, imagining it's his throat.
"I've had a special room prepared for when you need… correction. All marriages require discipline, Valentina. You'll learn to appreciate my methods."
I freeze. Correction? Discipline?
"And when you're breeding, you'll have the best medical care. No leaving the estate, of course. Too dangerous for my heir."
"I'm not a brood mare," I whisper, unable to stop myself.
His fingers suddenly grip my chin, forcing my gaze to his. "No? That is precisely what you are. A beautiful, spirited mare to breed strong sons. Nothing more."
The garden blurs as rage and terror war within me.
Maksim pulls me deeper into the garden, past a towering hedge that blocks us completely from Cristian’s view.
"Wait—" I start, but he's already crowding me against a stone wall, his bulk boxing me in.
"A taste," he whispers, his breath hot against my face. "Just a small preview of our wedding night."
My muscles coil tight, every nerve ending wanting to strike out.
The weight of his body presses against mine.
His dick grinds against me.
I can't breathe.
Can't think.
Peace hinges on this marriage.
On my submission.
But does peace require this?
Does it mean I need to give up everything I am to be Maksim’s plaything and babymaker?
"My brother expects me back soon," I say, hoping he feels a little apprehensive about disrespecting Alessandro.
Maksim smirks. "Your brother sold you to me. He doesn't dictate the terms of how I claim what's mine."
I’m incensed. I am not property. Not his. Not Alessandro's. Not anyone's.
"I'm not yours yet," I hiss.
"Close enough," he counters, and then his mouth descends on mine.
His lips are cold and demanding, tasting of expensive whiskey gone sour.
My stomach heaves as his tongue forces its way between my lips.
Every instinct in my body surges to life, but it’s not the warm, eager response I felt with Cristian.
No, this is a desire to kill.
His mouth invades mine, tongue doing an obscene dance. My body turns to stone, mind racing. If I fight now, show revulsion, the alliance breaks. War resumes. People die, including Cristian.
"Get your fucking hands off her." Cristian's lethal voice cuts through the silence.
Maksim freezes against me, his body tensing. From the corner of my eye, I see the barrel of Cristian's gun pressed firmly against the back of Maksim's skull.
Relief floods through me, quickly replaced by terror.
Cristian just threatened the Pakhan of the Morozova Bratva.
In his own home.
"Your job," Maksim says with deadly calm, not releasing me, "is to protect her from outside threats. Not from her future husband."
"My job is to protect her. Period." Cristian's voice doesn't waver. "Step. Back."
I remain perfectly still, unsure how to defuse this situation.
My eyes meet Cristian's over Maksim's shoulder, and what I see there terrifies me.
It’s not rage, but resolve.
He will pull that trigger without hesitation.
For me.
"It's okay." It's not okay. Nothing about this is okay. But the alternative is death.
Maksim slowly peels his body away from mine. "You've made a grave mistake," Maksim seethes. "Do you understand who I am? What I can do to you with a single word?"
My heart pounds so violently, I can’t hear anything else.
This is my fault.
That dress… my reckless game has pushed us to this moment.
"I understand perfectly who you are." Cristian’s gun remains steady, his dark eyes never wavering. "And I understand my duty to the Dante family."
Maksim scoffs. "Your duty? Your duty was to guard her virtue until she becomes mine. Not to interfere when I choose to sample what's already been promised."
"Miss Dante isn't property," Cristian states, each word precise and measured. "She's the daughter of Don Lorenzo Dante, sister to Don Alessandro Dante. She deserves to be treated with respect."
"You speak of respect while pointing a gun at my head?" Maksim's eyes narrow to icy slits. "Alessandro will hear of this insubordination."
"I expect he will," Cristian acknowledges without flinching.
This is a disaster.
If Maksim decides to retaliate, neither of us might leave this garden alive.
And if by some miracle we escape today, my wedding night promises punishments I can scarcely imagine.
Yet watching Cristian stand unflinching before the Pakhan, defending not just my body but my dignity, fills me with a fierce admiration.
I wanted to seduce him for selfish reasons.
To experience passion before being sentenced to a loveless marriage.
Instead, I've discovered what true honor looks like.
It’s brave and selfless.
The guilt is crushing.
My childish games with that revealing dress have led us here.
Have led us to the edge of war over a kiss.