The Don's Replacement Bride

4— The Don is waiting

Valentina's POV

The lady's fingers uncurled from me but I couldn't stay upright without support. I crashed to the floor immediately, pain shooting through my ankle.

My heart hammered in my chest, each beat a reminder of what was about to happen to me.

I was about to be married. At the age of 22. To a Don I knew was far older than me. And I didn't know what to expect.

Tears rolled down my eyes as the Don finally reached me, his cologne dissolving in my nostrils layered with the scent of leather and smoke.

He leaned down, eyes locking with mine and the world thinned.

Danger.

That was all his eyes whispered.

He raised his hand and my chest trembled as his fingers rested on my curls. “Is this natural,” he asked, voice low, eyes already knowing the answer.

Words hung in my throat as I fought back a sob. I didn’t want to marry. Especially not a Don. Especially not a man old enough to decide my life with a sentence. I wanted to further my education. I had plans.

His free fingers closed around my jaw, rough—not crushing, but firm enough to leave no doubt. “When I ask a question, you answer,” his voice boomed with a sharp edge.

I nodded weakly, tears spilling. “Yes,” my voice strained as his hold tightened just enough to remind me who was in control. “Yes, it’s natural.”

“Captivating,” he drawled and took his eyes away. He stepped away as I broke into a silent sob, then he looked at dad.

“You caused a lot of trouble, Harry. And I hate troubles,” dad's eyes dropped to the floor instantly.

“Please, Don.”

“But you've brought a worthy offering,” his gaze returned to me, calm and unhurried, “so you're forgiven.”

“Thank you, Don,” dad breathed.

“Remember,” he turned to dad, “she's mine from now on. You have no control over her.”

“I'm not a property to be owned,” I screamed instantly as more tears rolled down my eyes, “please let me go. I'm not the actual one to be wedded.”

“Women are emotional,” he said mildly, like it amused him rather than bothered him. “I haven't been close to emotional women in years. That intrigues me,” he then stepped forward, “name?”

“Valentina,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

“Good, Valentina,” he turned to dad, “Your debt is settled. I'm taking her,” and then he settled in front of me, his eyes lingering over me, his lips raising in a smirk, “Artists will be here to prepare you. Our wedding is by noon.”

“What? No. Please no. Please,” I forced myself to my knees, “please, don't make me marry you. I don't want to.”

“Only what the Don wants matters,” the lady coolly chimed in.

“You should know the name of your husband to be, Nikolai De Luca,” he said, already turning away, “you have the luxury of my wonderful guards until the ceremony,” and all I heard was the clicking of his shoes as he walked away.

The lady followed, her steps gliding across the tiles and just as she passed, she paused and whispered, “wonderful hair.”

And then they were all gone.

I collapsed to the floor immediately, tears flowing freely. I was in— and there was no escape.

————

I watched my bland face in the mirror as the artists did their job. I had dreamed of a day like this where artists do their job on my face, where I have a white dress to look forward to wearing.

I had wondered how my wedding day would be. If I was going to be happy and look forward to marrying a man. It was bad for mum and I always wondered how it'd be for me.

And here I was. The day is finally here. But of all things, I never imagined I was going to marry a Don.

My throat tightened and I sniffed, a tear rolling down. I'd have a history with a mafia Don. Goodness, what would happen to me after? Would he decide to let me go one day? Would I ever be free?

I took my eyes to the door where one of the guards stood and at once all of my thoughts drowned. I couldn't escape. Not under their security.

The lady had caught me within the blink of an eye. These men… they would catch me even if I've run a thousand miles.

“Why the tears ma'am? Your makeup is waterproof but still you can't ruin the glistening with tears,” one of the artists said.

“What's the next part?” My voice was plain and hoarse.

“The dress fitting,” another artist screamed. “The dress is adjustable within 4 sizes. So we are dressing you up now.”

As soon as I slipped out of the robe I was in, my gaze fell on my ankle. It was reddened and aching but it was the least of the pain I was in.

I managed to apply ointment on it before the white dress was hung on me and soon, I couldn't recognise myself.

I looked beautiful, like a doll, wrapped in sophisticated dressing and jewellery. “Do you like it?” One of the artists asked. “You look beautiful.”

“I do. Thanks,” I obliged and they finally left. I sniffed repeatedly holding my tears back as I tried to imagine the future. What would a life with him be like?

Everyday trouble?

How was I going to be treated? Why did he want to marry? Why did he want a bride in exchange for money when he could have any woman he wanted?

Questions filled my mind before the door finally clicked open. “It's time,” one of the guards announced.

“Not yet,” dad chipped and walked in.

“You're not allowed to see her anymore. She's the Don's property now,” the guard challenged.

“Stop it!” I screamed as I banged on the table in front of me, “stop it, okay? I belong to no one. Just stop it!”

“She wants to see me,” dad gritted at the guard and he stepped away, jaw tightened, “one minute.”

The guard excused us and I scoffed as dad reached me, “you gave me out to save your life.”

“To secure myself,” dad clarified. “I hate Camila for escaping but bear in mind, Valentina. You're playing her role so you will do as I say.”

I turned to dad, disappointed. All he could think of was what he would get from the Don. The money, the connections, the leverage. That's all that mattered to him.

“You must find a way to stay in touch with me. I'll give you the orders. I'll tell you what you need to do.”

“Enough!” I burst into another round of tears. How did mum ever manage to marry this man? How could she leave me alone with this covetous man?

The guard opened the door immediately, eyes narrowed.

“Just some issues. We're still talking”

“No,” I whispered coldly, “I don't want to speak to him,” I muttered and the guard stepped forward, already guiding dad out of the room. “Take him away,” I added as dad protested and I watched as dad was dragged out.

And that… that seemed to light something up inside of him. Could I give orders now?

But as the door was pushed open, the reminder came, that I was just a pawn and a puppet, “The Don is waiting.”