Page 19 of Beneath the Shadows

I sit up, my head still foggy from sleep. “You made me spend my wedding night listening to you fuck another woman, and now you think you can waltz in here and make demands,” I say, rubbing my eyes, my voice filled with barely restrained anger.

“That’s exactly what I think,” he replies, his voice dripping with condescension. “You’ll have to get used to how things work around here, princess. I’m the one in control of everything. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for you.”

“You’re disgusting.”

He chuckles, dismissing my words with a shrug. “I’ve been called worse. Now get up and get dressed. We have a flight to catch, and I won’t tolerate being late.”

Slipping out of bed, I pad to the bathroom to take a hot shower. The warmth soothes my tense muscles, allowing me to feel a momentary sense of peace.

As I step out of the shower and reach for a towel, I realize in my rush to get away from Valentino, I forgot to grab my clothes. I hesitate, not ready to face him like this. My nightgown is still in the bathroom, but it doesn’t offer much coverage. I stall for time by blow-drying my hair, knowing I’ll eventually have to go out there.

Ensuring the towel is tightly secured, I crack the bathroom door, hoping he’s left the room. I’m disappointed when I spot him lounging on the bed, scrolling through his phone. When he notices me, he lowers it, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Did you forget something?” he asks, his tone mocking while his eyes rake over my body.

Ignoring him, I walk to the closet with my head held high, determined not to let him see how much his gaze unnerves me. I can feel his eyes on me, scrutinizing every move, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. Grabbing a simple dress from the closet, I slip it on quickly, making sure to keep my back to him the entire time.

When we’re ready to leave, he steps toward me, placing a hand on my lower back and guiding me out of the room. “Remember, Alessia, you’re mine now,” he says, his voice low. “When we’re in public, you’ll act the part. Smile. Be the perfect wife. Understood?”

Silence. It’s the only act of rebellion I can manage right now. Valentino won this battle, but the war is far from over. Each day, I’ll be plotting, planning, waiting for the right moment.

I will survive. I will escape. And one day, I will be free.

Alessia

The plane touches down in Naples, and we’re among the first to disembark. After we collect our bags, Val leads me to a private car waiting out front. The driver opens the back door, and I slide in, the buttery soft leather cool against my skin.

“You will be on your best behavior for my men,” Valentino says, leaning into the open door, his tone firm.

I glare at him. “Where are you going?”

“I have business to attend to,” he replies as if I should’ve known better than to ask.

“Business?” I repeat, my disbelief giving way to frustration. “On our honeymoon? Aren’t we supposed to at least keep up appearances?”

His expression hardens, eyes narrowing with disdain. “Appearances are all that matter, Alessia. But don’t mistake this trip for something it’s not. You should be grateful I’m even letting you go without me. That’s more freedom than you deserve.”

My hands ball into fists in my lap. “Grateful? For what? Being dragged around like a prisoner while you play at being a mafia king?” My words come out sharp, but I don’t care.

Valentino leans in close, his face mere inches from mine. “Watch your tone. I will not tolerate your disrespect.”

I meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “I’ll never be the obedient little wife you want, Valentino. Never.”

His lips curl into a slow, calculating smile. “We’ll see about that.”

The cold edge in his voice sends a chill through me. I’ve heard the stories, the whispered rumors of his cruelty. If I push him too far, I know he won’t hesitate to show me just how brutal he can be.

When I don’t respond, he steps back and signals his men. Rico climbs into the passenger seat while Dante slides in beside me in the back. The door shuts with a heavy thud.

I remember Dante from when we were teenagers—he was always by Antonio’s side. I wonder now if his allegiances have shifted, if he’s more loyal to Valentino than Antonio these days.

The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Three hours. Maybe more. The road is,” he hesitates as he searches for the word. “Piccola.”

“Grazie.”

He nods politely, and the car pulls away, gliding smoothly into motion. Through the tinted windows, Valentino's figure grows smaller until he’s out of sight. Settling in for the drive, the view outside shifts as the sprawling city of Naples gradually fades into the backdrop.

For a while, the passing scenery goes unnoticed, until something in the distance catches my attention—the unmistakable silhouette of Mt. Vesuvius. A surge of excitement stirs within me, cutting through the heaviness in my chest. Sitting up straighter, my breath catches.

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