Page 17 of The Mafia King's Reign
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for the pen, draws a firm line through the clause on the page, and sets the pen down again.
“There,” he says quietly.
He holds my gaze, steady and unflinching, and suddenly the room feels charged.
My hand trembles as I take the pen again. I sign before I lose my nerve.
When I reach the final page, I hesitate. This is it. The moment I sign away every choice, every freedom, every dream I ever had and become… his. An obligation. A transaction.
"Valentina." His voice is softer now. Almost kind. The voice from the library aisle. "I will never hurt you, and your family will be safe. I give you my word."
I put the pen down and look away as soon as I'm done.
The ink is still wet when Salvatore takes the contract and I turn to face him. He examines my signature with the careful attention of a man who misses nothing, then nods with satisfaction.
He sets the contract aside and looks at me with an intensity that raises every hair on my body.
"Do you know what name you agreed to take?" he asks quietly.
"Vitale. Your name."
"My name," he agrees. "A legacy. A bloodline. A dynasty that goes back generations." He pauses. "I'm repairing damage that's overdue."
The words hang in the air like a threat.
"I don't understand."
"You will." He moves to the window, looking out over the city. "The wedding will be in three months. You'll stay at the estate until then. Elio will show you to your room and introduceyou to the staff. Someone will take you shopping for appropriate clothing."
"Appropriate clothing," I repeat numbly.
"You're going to be the wife of the Don. You'll dress the part." He turns back to face me, and there's something almost predatory in his expression now. "You'll look the part. You'll act the part. And eventually, Valentina, you'll be the part."
"I'm not one of you."
"Aren't you?" He moves closer again, and I'm trapped between the chair and his presence. "You have more connection to this family than you know. More than your father ever wanted you to know. Or your mother."
"What does that mean?"
"It means," His hand comes up to my face again, fingers spanning my jaw. "You were always meant to be here. This was always your destiny. Your father tried to run from it, tried to hide you from it. But some debts echo through generations, Valentina."
His thumb strokes my cheek. I lean into it before I can stop myself, a fraction of a second, barely perceptible, but he catches it, and the smile that crosses his face tells me he'll never let me forget it.
"And the debts your family owes mine?" His voice drops to a whisper. "They're about to be paid in full."
He releases me, steps back. The loss of contact is almost physical. I hate that it is.
"Any questions?"
"Do I get to say goodbye? To my family?"
"Tomorrow. Under supervision." He picks up his phone, his attention already moving to his next task.
And just like that, I'm dismissed. Thank God.
Yesterday I called Lindsay and said so so fine, disgustingly fine, it should be illegal.
I was right about that part, at least.
