VINCENT VALENTINO
Cold, heartless, arrogant and insipid. Vincent Valentino, Underboss to the Italian mafia, is met with the terrible reality that he's no longer 17 anymore and therefore has to get married. But not just to anyone.
ELENA MACHINOVIA...
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As I stood before the ornate mirror in the bridal suite, the reflection staring back at me felt like a stranger. Dressed in layers of ivory silk and lace, adorned with jewels that glittered like shards of ice, I couldn't shake the feeling of suffocation that gripped my heart.
Today, I would marry Vincent—the man who had once been my greatest adversary, now poised to become my husband.
My hands trembled as I smoothed down the delicate folds of my wedding gown, the weight of resentment heavy upon my shoulders.
How had it come to this?
How had I allowed myself to be swept into this twisted charade, where love and hatred danced in a macabre waltz?
The door creaked open, and Vincent's mother, Leonora, entered the room with a regal grace that belied the tension between us.
Her eyes, sharp and penetrating, bore into mine with a mixture of scrutiny and sympathy.
"Elena," she began, her voice a gentle melody amid the chaos of my thoughts. "You look exquisite."
I forced a smile, the facade of composure slipping with each passing moment. "Thank you, Signora," I replied, my voice strained with the weight of unspoken truths.
She approached me, her elegant fingers brushing against the delicate fabric of my gown. "My dear, I know that your relationship with Vincent has been... complicated. But I believe that he cares for you with a depth that goes beyond the boundaries of our world."
Her words struck a chord within me, stirring the dormant emotions that lay buried beneath layers of resentment and anger.
Vincent doesn't care about me he never did or was this just another calculated move in the twisted game of power and control?
Getting his mother to have a talk with me for his gain?
Leonora's gaze softened, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding. "Elena, my son may not always show it in the ways you expect, but he is a good man. Give him a chance to prove himself to you."
I nodded and I sighed to myself. Could I set aside the years of animosity and betrayal for the slim possibility of redemption?
As the moments slipped away, the weight of Leonora's words lingered in the air like a fragile promise. In that fleeting instant, amid the chaos of my conflicted emotions, I allowed myself to entertain the possibility—a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume me.
With a heavy heart and a resolve born of desperation, I nodded, the words catching in my throat. "I'll... I'll give him a chance," I whispered, the admission a reluctant acknowledgment of the tangled web of emotions that bound us together.
Leonora smiled, a gentle expression of gratitude and understanding. "Thank you, Elena," she murmured, her words a silent plea for reconciliation in the face of insurmountable odds.
