Playing Mrs Valenti

***Milena***

May bled into June, marking two long, agonizing months since my life was signed away on that mahogany desk. Two months into this miserable sham of a marriage, and the mere title of 'Mrs Valenti' still irks me to my very core. Every time a maid bows her head or a heavily armed bodyguard addresses me by that cursed name, a fresh wave of nausea hits my stomach. I despise Rafael Valenti with every fiber of my being. I have had the misfortune of encountering a lot of terrible, deeply flawed men in my life, but he sits effortlessly at the very top of that list. Meeting him remains the single greatest curse of my existence, a dark, permanent stain that absolutely no amount of time could ever rewrite. Every second spent within his reach feels exactly like a slowly tightening noose around my neck. Being forcefully pushed into a fake marriage contract, bound by ink and blood simply to appease his traditional business partners, is a living nightmare.

To the outside world, I am a modern-day Cinderella. I am the incredibly lucky, enchanting woman who finally charmed the untouchable, billionaire bachelor into settling down. Our fake, highly publicized private wedding was an elaborate theatrical performance meticulously designed for the mob bosses, the corporate stakeholders, and the relentless paparazzi. The tabloids swallowed the bait without a single second thought. For weeks, my face was plastered across the internet, splashed on the front pages of entertainment magazines, and discussed on every gossip channel on television. They marveled at the ruthless king of the corporate underworld finally taking a bride. They painted a sickening picture of a passionate, sweeping romance, declaring that I was the only woman capable of thawing his notoriously frozen heart.

They view Rafael in awe as a master strategist. They see him as an insanely beautiful but entirely lethal force of nature. And they are not wrong about his physical appearance. He possesses the kind of dark, devastating masculinity that effortlessly commands attention the second he steps into a room. Broad, muscular shoulders, a perfectly sculpted jawline, sleek brown hair, and piercing almond-shaped eyes that hold absolutely zero warmth. He is a walking contradiction, a gorgeous nightmare masked in tailored Italian suits and an aura of absolute, terrifying authority. The public knows him as the brilliant heir who successfully inherited a massive syndicate from his late kingpin father, the legendary Don Vittorio, and seamlessly turned it into Italy's largest, most prestigious winery. They romanticize his limitless power, his staggering wealth, and his untouchable status, safely guarded day and night by the fiercely loyal Luna Ombra brotherhood.

But to me, he is nothing more than my cruel jailer.

Behind the closed, heavy doors of the sprawling Valenti estate, there is no romance. There is no warmth. I am constantly surrounded by unwanted, sickening luxury that feels significantly more like a gilded cage than a sanctuary. I am forced to sleep in his sprawling, cavernous master bedroom, relegated to a cold, separate bed situated miles away from his. He casually insisted it was strictly for security measures, to keep up the convincing charade for the household staff and potential enemies, but it only serves to constantly remind me of my absolute captivity. I cannot take a single step around the property without being heavily shadowed by armed guards at every turn. They trail me through the echoing marble halls, stand watch directly outside the doors, and track my every move with terrifyingly deadpan expressions. I have been entirely stripped of my agency, draped in expensive designer clothes I never asked for, and served by silent, ghost-like maids who refuse to meet my eyes. I look in the ornate mirrors of this massive mansion and no longer recognize the submissive, hollowed-out girl I have become. I feel utterly lost, a beautifully dressed prisoner serving a lifelong sentence I did not commit the crime for.

Seeking a brief escape from the suffocating house, I sit outside on a cold stone bench in the manicured garden. I stare blankly at the perfectly trimmed hedges and the blooming roses. The afternoon sun is shining brightly, casting a warm golden glow over the vibrant flowers and the distant, rolling olive trees, but the breathtaking beauty of the estate is entirely lost on me. I draw my knees tightly to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs in a desperate attempt to find some small comfort in my isolation.

Heavy footsteps suddenly crunch on the gravel path behind me.

I do not need to turn around to know exactly who is interrupting my peace. The measured, dominant strides belong solely to my tormentor. Rafael approaches purposefully, and walking closely beside him is his ever-loyal best friend and consigliere, Alessio. They are deep in a low conversation, their voices a synchronized hum of serious business and deeply rooted brotherhood. Seeing their genuine, unwavering bond stirs a quiet, painful envy deep inside me. Alessio stands by Rafael through everything, meticulously managing the winery, handling the darker sides of the syndicate, and acting as a trusted sounding board for the devil himself. They share a profound trust that is completely unbreakable. I watch them approach from the corner of my eye, a bitter, heavy lump forming in my throat.

I have never had a safe haven. I have never had a single person to rely on, someone to watch my back when the world turned cruel.

My childhood was entirely marred by dirt-poor, deeply addicted parents. My father spent his miserable days chained to a cigarette and a bottle of cheap liquor, while my mother relentlessly chased whatever temporary high she could afford. Our tiny, rundown apartment was a constant war zone of screaming matches, shattered glass, and crippling poverty. All the meager money they managed to scrape together from odd jobs went straight into fueling their devastating addictions, leaving me completely neglected to fend for myself. I spent my middle school years scrubbing floors and taking on exhausting menial jobs around the neighborhood just to keep myself fed and my education funded. When my parents finally passed away—my mother from advanced lung cancer and my father from a sudden cardiac arrest—I felt a twisted, horrifying sense of relief. I thought I could finally breathe. I thought the worst was over.

But their tragic deaths only left me at the brutal mercy of my older brother, Silvano. He was supposed to be my protector, my only remaining blood relative, but he quickly proved to be a violent criminal who constantly stole my hard-earned money and hit me whenever he pleased. He dragged me into his dangerous messes, sold me out without a second thought to settle his massive gambling debts, and cowardly left me stranded in the ruthless clutches of Rafael Valenti. I have always been entirely, devastatingly alone. No fairy godmother. No knight in shining armor. Just me, fighting a losing battle against the terrifying monsters in my life.

Rafael's sharp, commanding voice snaps me violently out of my dark thoughts. "Milena…Milena!"

I flinch slightly, my head jerking up to meet his dark, intense stare. He is standing a few feet away, towering over my seated form, but his cold eyes are not on my face. They are fixated directly on my left hand.

"I was asking about your wedding ring. Where is it?" Rafael demands, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that echoes in the quiet garden.

I deliberately tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, fighting desperately to maintain a facade of pure indifference. "I don't know. It's probably lying around somewhere."

"How many times do I have to tell you never to take it off?" Rafael scolds, his jaw visibly clenching as he takes a menacing step closer to the bench.

The oppressive weight of his authority pushes down on me, but a stubborn spark of rebellion ignites fiercely in my chest.

"What does it matter? It's a fake wedding anyway." I blurt out, suddenly irritated by his controlling nature and his obsession with appearances.

He issues the command with a chilling calmness, his tone leaving absolutely no room for debate. "Go get your ring."

I stand up from the stone bench, my heart pounding aggressively against my ribs. I step closer to him, tilting my chin up to meet his fierce glare directly. I refuse to cower like a frightened mouse.

"And if I don't? Don't you ever get tired of telling me what to do?" I challenge him, my voice shaking with unreleased, bubbling anger.

"Don't you ever get tired of throwing tantrums like a little girl?" Rafael shoots back flawlessly, his expression morphing into a rigid mask of pure condescension.

My blood boils fiercely at the direct insult. He views my desperate fight for basic human autonomy as a pathetic childish game, completely dismissing the agonizing reality of my captivity.

"I am not your puppet, Mr Valenti. I know you're used to a system that caters to your every whim without resistance, but I am not that girl." I retort loudly, anger flaring bright and hot in my tight chest.

Silence falls heavily over the sunlit garden. Rafael glares at me intensely, his dark eyes narrowing into lethal slits. The air between us crackles with a volatile, dangerous tension. He refuses to break eye contact, his overwhelming dominance asserting itself in the quiet, terrifying standoff.

"Alessio." Rafael calls out sharply, his fierce gaze still locked onto mine.

"Yes, Rafael." Alessio responds instantly, stepping forward with practiced, terrifying efficiency.

Without a moment of hesitation, Alessio reaches deep into his tailored suit pocket and quickly, obediently produces a small, velvet red box. He hands it directly over to Rafael, who accepts it without even briefly glancing away from my defiant face. Rafael snaps the velvet box open with his thumb. He plucks out yet another shiny, custom-made replica of my missing wedding ring. The massive diamonds catch the sunlight, flashing a brilliant, mocking gleam that turns my stomach.

Before I can even attempt to react, Rafael forcefully snatches my delicate left hand. His grip is exactly like a steel vice, bruising, warm, and entirely inescapable. I try desperately to pull away, but he holds me incredibly firm, his strong fingers digging painfully into my skin. He roughly slips the heavy, expensive ring onto my finger, pushing it aggressively past my knuckle until it settles permanently into its designated spot. The cold metal feels exactly like a brand, a permanent, shining marker of his absolute ownership over my life.

"Lose it one more time, and I'll have it glued to your finger." Rafael threatens darkly, his voice dropping to a lethal, promising whisper that sends a terrifying shiver straight down my spine.

"I hate you." I snap, aggressively yanking my hand away from his iron grip.

I turn sharply on my heel and stomp off toward the massive house. I do not look back. I can hear Alessio murmuring something low to Rafael, probably highly amused by my pathetic display of defiance, but I do not care. I just need to get as far away from his suffocating presence as physically possible. I march furiously through the grand double doors of the villa, my chest heaving with ragged, uneven breaths. The luxurious interior, with its sparkling crystal chandeliers and pristine imported marble floors, blurs rapidly around me as I break into a desperate run.

Fleeing quickly up the grand, curving staircase, I completely ignore the curious glances of the armed guards permanently posted in the upper hallway. I push open the heavy oak doors to the master bedroom and slam them shut loudly behind me. The heavy silence of the massive, meticulously decorated room offers a temporary shield, but the rising panic is already setting in deep within my bones.

I rush frantically over to the elegant wooden dresser and grab my phone. My hands are shaking so violently that I nearly drop the device onto the rug. I unlock the screen and anxiously dial Silvano's number. I press the phone tight against my ear, pacing the entire length of the expensive Persian rug, praying to whatever higher power is currently listening that he will finally pick up the call and save me.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

Then, the automated, soulless female voice echoes loudly from the speaker. It goes straight to voicemail, just as it has for the past eight grueling, nightmarish weeks.

I pull the phone slowly away from my face, staring blindly at the glowing screen. Since the very night he left me stranded at this heavily guarded villa, I have not heard a single word from him. I open my messaging app, scrolling numbly through the endless stream of green bubbles. Undelivered messages stack up one after another in a depressing column. Desperate pleas, angry threats, tearful begging. None of them went through. The blocked calls boldly highlight my grim, inescapable reality. Silvano took the money, cleared his massive debt, and vanished off the face of the earth, leaving me to rot permanently in this glamorous, high-security prison.

I drop the phone onto the silk sheets. My shaking legs finally give out, and I collapse heavily onto the edge of my cold, separate bed. The expensive mattress is soft, the fine linens smell of luxury detergent, but it all just feels like a lavish tomb designed specifically for me.

The devastating, crushing truth crashes over me like a violent tidal wave. I am trapped. I am deeply, utterly trapped. Under Rafael's watchful roof, I have absolutely no way to work part-time. I cannot scrub floors, wait tables, or run errands for generous neighbors to save up tips. There is zero chance of me breaking my back to earn enough money to slowly buy back my expensive freedom. Every single avenue of escape has been systematically blocked, bricked up, and heavily guarded by menacing men with guns. The debt is astronomically high, and the only person who could have possibly helped me pay it off has maliciously thrown me to the wolves.

My throat tightens, burning intensely with the sheer force of my suppressed despair. I clutch the silk bedspread tightly in my fists, my knuckles turning stark white.

Agonized screams rip fiercely from my raw throat. The horrifying sound bounces off the high, painted ceilings of the master bedroom, raw and primitive. I do not care if the armed guards outside hear me. I do not care if Rafael hears me. I scream until my vocal cords burn and tear, letting out two agonizing months of terror, isolation, and raging injustice.

The desperate screams quickly give way to intense, quiet sobs. I curl into a tight, trembling ball on the large mattress, pressing my wet face deeply into the pillows to muffle the pathetic sounds of my completely shattered heart. Tears stream hot and fast down my flushed cheeks, soaking the expensive fabric beneath me. My chest heaves with violent, uncontrolled hiccups. I am completely, irreparably broken.

The crushing, suffocating truth finally settles in, wrapping tightly around my throat and permanently choking the last remaining remnants of my false hope. There is no magical rescue coming. There is no secret escape route hidden somewhere behind the vast winery. Silvano has completely abandoned me, destroying any lingering hope of paying off the insurmountable debt.

Maybe it is time I accepted the harsh, unyielding reality of my miserable existence. There is no escaping this Villa.

And there is no escaping him.