Mr and Mrs Valentino

2

Fucking hell.

As my eyes fell upon her, an involuntary surge of disdain flickered within me. Her dark brown locks cascaded effortlessly, framing a countenance that exuded an unwelcome allure.

Those brown eyes, though enchanting, held a glint that irked me-a glimmer of hidden depths I refused to acknowledge.

She shimmered in a silver sparkly dress, a garb that adorned her figure with an elegance that irritated rather than impressed. The way the fabric caught the light, accentuating her every move, felt more like an affront than an attraction.

In a sea of faces, her presence stood out, not as a radiant beacon, but as a thorn in my side. Her graceful movements seemed orchestrated, a calculated display that garnered attention, an attention I begrudged her.

Elena walked through the hall room, Greeting others and having conversations with my family members. "She's hot."

Internally rolling my eyes, I turn around seeing my best friend Matteo, His icy blue eyes on Elena, his platinum blonde hair falling in a part side. "Shut the fuck up." I glare at him.

Luciano, my father walked up to me. "Time to make the announcement." I nodded, making my way across the ball room. "Elena" she turned around.

"Time to make the announcement." I told her in a nonchalant tone.

Elena turned around to the woman she was talking to, "Excuse me"

Grabbing two glasses from the waiter and I hand one to Elena, I hear a glass clink. I see my father walking towards us. "If I can have everyone's attention please" he says aloud.

As Elena approached closer to me, her every movement seemed calculated, her touch more a declaration of dominance than any sign of affection.

Her hand wrapped around my arm with a sense of ownership, the grip firm and resolute, conveying a message of control rather than partnership.

I mirrored the gesture, holding a champagne glass in my hand, our arms intertwined in a façade of unity, concealing a deeper discord.

Her scent, subtle yet deliberate, wafted towards me-a concoction of floral notes tinged with a hint of something musky, a fragrance carefully chosen to mask the tension between us.

The aroma, though pleasant on its own, seemed out of place amidst the palpable unease that lingered between our entwined forms. It was a fragrance that sought to shroud the business deal we were part of, yet it only accentuated the underlying tension, adding an incongruous layer to our forced alliance.

"As you all well know tonight is for celebration. For 40 years Rome was divided from our mafia. Stolen from its rightful owner." I could see Fernando glare at my father, his stare almost as cold as his drink.

"But tonight we celebrate the union between my son, Vincent and His fiancée Elena. Both will join mafias and restore Italy to one."

"Give it up for the happy couple." Fernando clapped, and soon everyone else joined, applauding us for nothing more than a faux relationship.

Elena un slipped her arm from mine and downed her champagne. Her cold eyes met mine before she strolled off in the distance without saying a word.

»»-----　★　-----««

Seated in the car, the confines of the luxurious leather felt stifling, the weight of our forced proximity suffocating any semblance of ease. As she entered, a wave of unease swept through the vehicle, her presence a reminder of the unwanted alliance imposed upon us.

With calculated grace, she settled in the back seat, her posture radiating a cold formality that echoed my own guarded demeanor.

A silent standoff ensued, our gazes colliding briefly-an unspoken exchange laden with mutual antipathy and the weight of past grievances. Her eyes, veiled behind a façade of poise, betrayed an underlying tension that mirrored my own resentment.

The air crackled with unspoken animosity, each passing moment amplifying the suffocating atmosphere that seemed to envelop us.

We remained seated in a strained silence, both aware of the distasteful arrangement that had shackled us together. The car started and my driver began to drive.

As the car hummed along the road, the tension between us seemed to reverberate within the confined space. The silence became a battlefield of unspoken resentments and discordant memories.

"You know this marriage changes nothing," she stated with a cool detachment, her voice slicing through the stifling air.

I met her gaze, my reply tinged with an edge honed by years of hate. "Marriage or not, our loathing for each other remains untouched. Don't mistake this charade for anything resembling a partnership."

Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of defiance dancing in their depths. "We don't need to be partners to adhere to the terms our families have set. We just need to keep up appearances."

I scoffed, the bitterness lacing my words cutting through the strained atmosphere. "Appearances are all this is-a performance for the benefit of our families' egos."

Her retort came swift and cold. "Agreed. A façade to save face, nothing more."

The words hung in the air, a testament to the mutual disdain that bound us together. Each passing mile seemed to amplify the divide, reinforcing the sense of entrapment within this coerced union. As the car rolled on toward an uncertain future, the silence settled like a suffocating shroud over our shared animosity.

She needed to pop out a few of my kids then we divorce. That's all. That's all I need.

Once we arrived home I turned to Elena, she looked around, her eyes wandering over the foyer. "This is Rose. She'll get you anything you want, food drinks she'll show you where things are and she'll show you to your room."

Elena glanced at Rose, who was smiling, Elena flashed her a small smile, being polite. "You are not allowed in my room, if I'm here or not you will not step foot in my room or my office is that clear?" I ask, my words demanding.

"Whatever."

I glance at rose before turning to Elena. "Good"
I didn't stick around to hear the insults she was probably gonna throw at me. But I did hear her call me a Canga to rose.