The First Night & Unveiling the Enemy
435 Words
The grand chandelier cast a golden glow over the entrance hall as Valeria stepped into the DeLuca estate. The air smelled of polished wood, expensive cigars, and something distinctly Matteo. A scent she would have to grow familiar with.
She wanted to hate it here. Hate the towering walls that now caged her, hate the way the guards barely spared her a glance—as if she were just another deal sealed by their boss.
Matteo handed his suit jacket to one of the waiting attendants, then turned to her. “I’ll have someone show you to your room.”
Valeria lifted a brow. “Not our room?”
His smirk deepened. “I may have claimed you in front of the world, but I’m not cruel enough to expect you to warm my bed just yet.”
His words sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. There was an underlying promise there—one that told her she wouldn’t always have a choice.
She lifted her chin. “I wouldn’t have, anyway.”
Matteo chuckled, low and dark. “Good. I prefer a challenge.”
Before she could throw another biting remark, a woman approached—tall, elegant, and with an air of quiet authority. “Mrs. DeLuca, allow me to take you to your room.”
Valeria’s stomach clenched at the title. Mrs. DeLuca. It still felt foreign, unnatural.
Without another word, she followed the woman upstairs, aware of Matteo’s gaze burning into her back until she disappeared down the hall.
---
The room was large—too large. A king-sized bed with silk sheets, a vanity lined with luxury products, and a walk-in closet already stocked with high-end designer clothes. As if she hadn’t left her entire life behind just hours ago.
She stepped onto the balcony, gripping the stone railing. Below, the estate grounds stretched endlessly, guards patrolling the perimeter like shadows. No escape.
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus. This wasn’t just about her. Her family needed this alliance. She couldn’t afford to crumble now.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
She turned just as a maid entered, her expression carefully neutral. “Mrs. DeLuca, there’s a letter for you.”
Valeria frowned, taking the envelope. It was unmarked, except for her name in bold, black ink.
Her pulse quickened.
She opened it, scanning the few words written inside:
You made the wrong choice.
And soon, you’ll regret it.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she lowered the note.
There was no signature. No indication of who had sent it.
But she already knew.
Luca.
- Writer
