𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲

𝗔𝗹𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘁𝗵𝘆𝗺𝗶𝗮 (𝗻.) - 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀.

Vincenzo

Valentina Ivanov had sent me an invite to visit her, I couldn't refuse. After all, she is the elder.

I step out of the car lending the key to the valet. He takes it bowing.

Good.

By now, everyone should know my relation to this family.

The french style villa is breathtaking. I heard it was a gift from the late Capo to his wife.

"She's waiting for you, Sir." Another guard appears, he bows ushering me into the building.

I am impressed with the interior design. Although it's french style, it has a unique modern touch. I follow the guard into the backyard. We pass the corridor that directs to the backyard. Photos and portraits are displayed on the wall as we pass by. Most of them are in black and white. Most of which are of late capo, his wife, and children.

The late Capo was a vicious man whom everyone feared. His mere presence in the room made people tremble. The coldness that swept when he entered surpassed the arctic ocean. That's how the men from families like ours are made. Emotionless. Cold.

We reach the backyard the sight leaving me disinterested. The sky held a plain sunset, nothing that could compare to Italy. Although Italy had always had its charms.

"He's here Abuelita," he announces. Abuelita? My brain tapes at what he calls her.

Valentina Ivanov was renowned for taking in stray boys. I assume he's one of them.

My attention zooms to the two women who stood before me. She looks frailer than the last time I saw her. But the one who stood next to her takes my breath away, to say the least. Is it the late sun setting or was her skin always like that? Tanned.

Her eyes widen as she takes me in. A small smirk sports her lips as I make my way towards them. I deliberately walk like a predator, taking pleasure in the change in her facial expression. Different expressions dance on her face like lost leaves in the storm. The last time I saw her at her father's mansion, all she wanted to do was run away. But now. Now she was trapped with me.

Her face resorted to shock, her plump and pouty lips slightly open. My groin twitches at her sight. Her yellow dress hugs her petite body reaching her mid-thigh. As always she wears a high neck embroidered dress. I can't wrap my head around it. Why does she always wear a high-neck dress? I will find out soon. Very soon. Because once she's my bride, she will abide by my rules. Her chest doesn't rise and fall, which explains she's not breathing. I allow my gaze to rank over her body shamelessly.

I don't hide the fact that I'm checking her out. Lust clouds my vision replaced by anger and hatred. My nostrils flare, red binding me. I immediately morph my face into a smile.

"How are you, Signora?" I bend down to kiss the old woman. To my surprise, she envelopes me in a hug. I still for a moment later allowing my hand to circle around the woman.

"Drop the honorifics, Figlio. Call me Abuelita." Figlio. Son. Valentina Ivanov called me son. Why am I not surprised? Papa did warn me, she is a woman full of surprises.

"Bambina, aren't you going to say Hello to your fiance?"

Anastasia's eyes snap towards me. The brown hazel orbs widening. Fear registering in them.

"Hi." She utters quickly. So softly I'm not sure if I heard her. I could break her within seconds. With a snap. But no, I want to enjoy crushing her, little by little. It's evident she's afraid of me. Perfect.