DANGEROUSLY YOURS MR.VALE

CHAPTER 2

Sienna's Pov

The wedding was a circus.

Flashbulbs exploded as I stepped out of the black SUV in a dress I didn’t pick on the arm of a man I didn’t trust. Damian kept his hand firm on my lower back the whole time.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured close to my ear as we posed for photos. “Just keep smiling.”

“I feel like I sold my soul,” I whispered back through gritted teeth.

He chuckled low. “You did. But at least your brother’s alive.”

That was true. Noah had called me this morning, confused and relieved, saying the debt was gone. He was safe for now. That was why I was here, playing happy bride in front of New York’s elite.

At the reception, I pulled him aside near the bar. “We need to talk. Alone.”

“Later,” he said.

“No. Now.” I tugged his sleeve. “This marriage is fake, right? So tell me why you really picked me.”

His eyes darkened. For a second, I thought he’d shut me down. Instead, he led me to a quiet hallway.

“You’re smart enough to be useful,” he said flatly. “And desperate enough to stay quiet. That’s all.”

“Liar,” I shot back. “There’s more. I can feel it.”

He stepped closer, towering over me. “Dig too deep, Sienna, and you won’t like what you find. Play your part. One year. Then you walk away rich, and your brother stays breathing.”

I crossed my arms, refusing to back down. “You keep saying that, but it doesn’t add up. Why me? There are a hundred women in this city who would kill to marry Damian Vale. Rich ones. Beautiful ones. Ones who wouldn’t ask questions. So why drag a journalist who’s been trying to bury your family into this?”

He glanced over his shoulder before answering. “Because those women are predictable. They want the money and the name. You want the truth. That makes you dangerous… and useful. I can keep an eye on you this way.”

“Useful?” I hissed. “Like a tool? I’m not some pawn. You can just move around your chessboard. I have a life. I have a job. Or I did before you showed up.”

“Your job was hanging by a thread anyway,” he replied coolly. “Your editor was about to fire you for obsessing over the Vale family. I just gave you a better opportunity. Access. Money. Protection.”

I laughed bitterly. “Protection? From what? From you? Because right now, it feels like I need protection from the man I just married in front of three hundred people. Tell me the truth for once. Do you even feel anything about all this?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Sienna. The world thinks I’m Damian Vale. I need a wife who can sell that story. Someone believable. You’re smart, you’re tough, and you already know too much. This way, we both get what we want. I get a cover. You get your brother back and a fat bank account when this ends.”

“What if I change my mind?” I asked, stepping closer. “What if I walk out right now and tell everyone this is a sham? What, then?”

His expression didn’t change. “Then Noah’s debt comes back by morning. Roman Vescovi doesn’t take second chances. You saw how fast I made it disappear. I can make it reappear just as fast. Is that what you want? To throw your brother back to the wolves after I saved him?”

I stared at him, searching for any c***k in that icy mask. “You’re really that cold? You stood there today saying vows like they meant something. ‘Till death do us part.’ Did any of that feel real to you? Or was it all just lines you practised in the mirror?”

For the briefest second, something flickered in his eyes. “It’s a role, Sienna. We’re both playing parts. Don’t start believing the fairy tale the press is writing about us. This isn’t a romance novel. It’s a contract.”

“But why does it have to be like this?” I pressed. “Couldn’t you have just paid off the debt without dragging me into a fake marriage? Why add all the theatre? The big wedding, the cameras, the vows in front of everyone?”

He leaned against the wall, watching me. “Because people watch me constantly. Victor Vale watches everything. A sudden marriage to a journalist who’s been investigating us looks better than just handing out money to some nobody. It gives me a reason for the changes in my behaviour. It creates a story the public buys.”

I shook my head. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you? What happens when I want to see my friends? Or visit my old apartment? Am I supposed to live locked up in your mansion like a prisoner?”

“You can see your friends,” he said. “With security. And that apartment? It’s already been cleared out. Your things are at the mansion now. Consider it part of the deal.”

“You went into my apartment?” I snapped, anger rising. “Without telling me? Who gave you the right?”

“I’m your husband now,” he answered calmly. “On paper, at least. And I needed to make sure there was nothing there that could hurt either of us. Relax, Sienna. I didn’t throw anything away.”

Before I could answer, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and his jaw tightened.

“Stay here,” he ordered and disappeared toward the ballroom.

I waited thirty seconds, heart pounding. “Screw that,” I muttered. Something was off about him—too controlled, too cold. The real Damian Vale from old interviews had been warmer, almost charming. This man was ice.

I slipped into an empty office and started opening drawers quietly. Nothing at first. Just some papers and pens. Then I found a small locked box under the desk. I jimmied it with a letter opener, hands shaking.

Inside were photos. A man who looked nothing like the one I married. On the back, in neat handwriting: “Real Damian – pre-crash”.

My hands shook harder. “What the hell…?”

I flipped through more pictures. Different angles. Different years. None of them matched the man. I just said “I do” to.

Suddenly, the door clicked open behind me.

“Sienna.” His voice was dangerously calm. “What are you doing?”

I spun around, the photo still in my grip. “Who the hell are you?”