The CEO's Little Untamable Girl

Her Other Woman

Atenea sighed, bored at the recommendations of her parents while they stayed her at the airport. They reminded her of the importance of being polite, avoiding rudeness, and maintaining the composure of a Volkova.

"Ate," her sister approached discreetly to whisper something in her ear. "I packed all your favorite toys and some condoms, just in case," she said. "If your husband doesn't measure up, call me; I have a lot of Italian friends there, okay?"

"You're the best, sister!" she hugged her, pretending while her parents watched them with suspicion. "Are the whips there too?" she asked in a whisper.

"Of course," she separated, smiling. "All your favorite clothes too."

"Don't play dumb, I know what you're talking about," her mother interrupted. "I told you, Atenea, you must..."

"Yes, mom, I heard you," she rolled her eyes. "Be polite, don't cause scandals, and all that nonsense about being a respectable noble."

"Listen to your mother, Ate," her father approached and hugged her. "Take care of yourself and, please, I beg you, behave with the Rizzos. You'll survive."

"Oh, of course," she nodded like a good girl. "Don't worry, I'll do my best to get along with my future husband."

The escorts begin to load her numerous luggage onto the private plane, a reflection of her status as a millionaire princess. She is ready to embark on her new journey full of adventures, or as she calls it, "mischief."

Before boarding, she says goodbye with one last hug from her parents and sister. However, a familiar screech echoes from afar, stopping her in her tracks.

"Ate!" an agitated shout makes her turn around, and a girl running in fine heels leaves her astonished. "Wait, Ate!"

"Leyla!?" she rubs her eyes in disbelief. "Is that really you?"

The girl with short, straight hair stops her run in heels, standing in front of Atenea, who observes her as if she were a being from another planet invading her peaceful space.

"Did you think you could leave me here?" she questions, catching her breath as two men arrive behind her with her luggage. "If you go to hell, I... damn, wait, I need to catch my breath." She fans herself with her hand before continuing. "If you go to hell, I'm going with you," she finally concludes.

Atenea throws herself on her, hugging her while kissing her face, ruining her perfect makeup a bit.

"You're everything that's right, Layla!" she shrieks with joy. "Did your parents let you come with me? I thought I'd have to endure all this alone."

"I had to use my wiles for two days," she winks. "I'm not going to miss the opportunity to meet these rich Italians."

"You've eaten more than one besides your disgusting boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend," she corrects proudly.

"Good for you."

"Ahem," her father cleared his throat. "We're still here."

"Layla, thank you for always being with my daughter," the woman says, taking her hands. "Take care of her, and make her see reason, please."

"Don't worry, ma'am, I'll do everything in my power."

"No one believes you," Cayetana mutters. "You're both the same, mom, don't believe her."

After a brief discussion about who was better and who was worse, Atenea and her friend boarded the plane to Rome. They have been inseparable since childhood; they studied together and their parents are good friends.

Although Layla is two years older than Atenea, they share the same crazy and carefree temperament, typical of spoiled girls.

***

The flight only took three and a half hours to reach its destination. Atenea disembarks the plane, holding her friend's arm, adjusting her sunglasses while the latter smiles broadly.

"Benvenuta, principessa," Layla said excitedly. "What do you think? Isn't it beautiful?"

"You're so dramatic, we've been to Rome more than once," she murmurs as they walk. They stop to see a car parked right in front of them, with several men waiting.

"Who are these?" her friend asks.

"I have no idea," she replied.

"Ladies," an older man approached. "My name is Martin, butler of the Rizzos; I've come to receive you."

"Oh, nice to meet you, I'm Layla, the bride's best friend," the redhead introduces herself, extending her hand, which the man receives politely.

"And I'm Atenea Volkova," she extends her right hand; the man receives it, giving her a kiss on the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry to tell you that the gentleman could not come to receive you personally, as he is attending to important matters," he informed, disconcerting Atenea.

"Excuse me? I don't understand; I'm not expecting anyone," she clarifies, leaving the man confused.

"Uh... I mean, your fiancé, miss; he couldn't come to receive you," he repeats. Atenea exchanges glances with her friend before focusing on Martin again.

"I repeat, I'm not expecting my fiancé's welcome, I don't even remember his name," she answers decisively. "I appreciate your kindness; my men will take care of our luggage."

"As you wish."

Atenea's escorts descend from the plane, each carrying a suitcase, others carrying both of their bags. Finally, a woman of similar age to Martin, Atenea's personal maid, comes down.

They all enter different cars that, after a few minutes, start moving. Atenea feels a little anxious about this drastic change in her life with marriage. Although she didn't oppose it, considering it a family and political benefit, she needed to explore new horizons without worrying about eventually returning to the same place.

She's only clear about one thing: she doesn't intend to get tangled up with whoever her husband is going to be. She will fulfill her duty, which is obviously outside that man's bed, and then, once the necessary time has passed, she will return to her old path.

"We're here, ladies," the driver announces, parking in front of a mansion. Although somewhat old-fashioned for the Russian girls' taste, it doesn't lose its elegant and classy touch.

"Wow," Layla gets out of the car, sweeping the place with her gaze. "It's better than I imagined, right, Ate?"

"Yes," she replied simply. "I'm tired, I need a bed urgently, or I'll die."

"Your room has already been prepared, Miss Atenea," Martin informed her, but then looked sadly at Layla. "As for you... well, we didn't know there would be another guest."

"Oh, no, don't worry. Don't worry about me, I'm staying at a friend's house," she gestures, shaking her head, receiving a withering look from her friend.

"A friend's house? You mean you came for him and not for me?" Atenea questioned with crossed arms.

"Come on, Ate, you know it's for you, but I had to find a place to stay."

"Let's say I believe you this time."

They both walk down the long path lined with flowers, followed by the men carrying their luggage. The main garden is quite large, with a huge fountain and large pines decorating the surroundings. Atenea's gaze fixed on the main door as it opened, stopping in front of a brown-haired woman with brown eyes and a lady-of-the-house bearing.

Layla raised an eyebrow at her, recognizing from her haughty face that they weren't welcome. Atenea's reaction, on the other hand, was neutral, her face expressionless and still with sunglasses covering her eyes.

"Welcome," the brunette says with a sweet smile. "I'm Lily."

"Lily?" Atenea pronounces with her Russian accent. "Are you a servant? If so, could you help me with some chamomile tea? My head wants to explode."

"Atenea," her friend gave her a discreet elbow.

"I'm not an employee of this mansion," she replies, clenching her jaw a little at the disrespect that wasn't intentional. "I'm Lily Moretti, Valentino's woman."

Everyone was speechless at the brunette's audacity. Layla with a face of: "What did this crazy woman say?" while the subordinates present whispered things to each other.

Was this the first humiliation for Atenea, newly arrived as Valentino's fiancée? Perhaps that's what everyone thought at that moment.

On the other hand, Atenea takes several steps forward, making her fine heels resonate like a true elegant lady. She stands face-to-face with the woman, who doesn't flinch at all and lowers her chin with dignity.

"You're my fiancé's woman, you say?" she removes her sunglasses, drawing a gentle smile on her lips. "Nice to meet you, I'm Atenea Volkova, the future wife of your man. Sorry... our man."

Instead of extending her hand for a greeting, Atenea simply stood upright, stroking her fine sunglasses between her fingers, watching Lily's not-so-pleasant reaction.

A smile, absent throughout the trip, was restored to her face upon encountering such a surprise. The lover of her future husband.

"Oh, and sorry, what was my fiancé's name again?" she asks with an innocent look. "You see, I didn't even have time to save his name. The trip was a bit hot."

"Valentino Rizzo," the brunette replied with a forced smile. "That's his name. And I apologize on his behalf, he asked me to attend to you in his place. He didn't have time either."

"Oh, is that so?" she looks her up and down. "Are you from a noble family?"

"Excuse me?"

"Because you don't seem to like me. Besides, instead of being his wife, you seem like his secretary. I don't think it's fair to you, I guess my future husband is very inconsiderate," she murmured, getting a little closer to her. "I'm sorry you have to do this. I understand that you might feel sad because I'll be his new wife, but what do you think? I like to share."

"Miss Volkova, I'm sorry for this inconvenience," Martin hastily intervened, a little nervous. "Miss Lily is..."

"Yes, yes, she already said it," she cuts him off. "My fiancé's woman, she made it clear. But tell me, does she live here too?"

"Uh..."

"That's right," Lily answers firmly. "Valentino has allowed me to live here as his girlfriend, so..."

"That's all I wanted to know," she raised a hand, silencing her. "Please, Martin, convey this message to my fiancé wherever he is. Either this woman leaves this mansion, or the contract is canceled. I can allow her to have all the mistresses she wants, but lower my social circle by having her under the same roof as me, which I won't tolerate. So please, let him know."

"What did you say?" Lily reacted, bewildered. "Who do you think you are? You just arrive and want to give orders that don't concern you."

"My life," she turns to her with a sweet smile. "Get a grip, please. Now I will be the mistress of this house, and you will only be in the background. I will be his wife, and if it bothers you so much, I'll cancel the contract, and you'll see how you get your poor man to save his factory. What do you think? I have no problem with that."

"Please, Miss Atenea," Martin intervened again. "This is just a misunderstanding, let's calm down. The gentleman will surely be here any minute."

"I'm calm, Martin," she sighs, irritated by the situation. "I just want things to be clear here. I don't like it when people show me their claws if they're not going to withstand a bite."

"Uh... friend," Layla hooked her arm, guiding her a little away from those present. "Why don't we get to know your room and talk about this for a while? We need an urgent chat."

"The rooms are over here," one of the maids said. "Please, follow me."

"Sure," Layla agreed, heading towards Atenea, who winks at Lily before going up the stairs, following the maid.

Lily clenched her fists, reaching the point where her nails dug into her skin. She showed up to receive Valentino's fiancée, following his instructions, as he wanted to make it clear to his future wife that he already had another woman.

But the plans didn't go as expected. First, Atenea didn't show any displeasure at the fact, but simply was bothered by the idea of having to share a roof with was a lover, being a respected lady who likes to be humiliated like that. What will others say? That was what really mattered.

Although Atenea cared little about what others said, since, back in Russia, she did as she pleased. But reaching the point of sharing a roof with a lover who pretended to be the lady of the house was another matter she would not tolerate.