THE LION’S DEN
At the De Luca Estate the next morning, Gianni placed a file on Adriano’s desk. “You asked for her records. Still nothing real. That identity she gave? Fabricated, top to bottom.”
Adriano didn’t look up. “Let it breathe.”
Gianni frowned. “You sure about that? Every hour she’s in this house, she’s getting deeper.”
“Good,” Adriano replied calmly. “I want to see how deep she’ll dig before she hits something she can’t climb out of.”
“This isn’t a game. She's clever.”
Adriano finally lifted his gaze. “So am I.”
Gianni hesitated. “What if she’s not just here for the money?”
Adriano’s expression darkened slightly. “Everyone's here for something. I intend to find out what she’s running from.”
Meanwhile, in Valentina’s quarters, she was finishing her makeup and speaking to Lola over the phone. “He wants me at his side for the arms deal dinner tonight,” she said as she adjusted her earrings.
“That’s not dinner,” Lola replied with a dry laugh. “That’s a mafia theater performance with bullets for dessert.”
Valentina checked her reflection, her gaze steady. “Exactly. That’s where power moves. That’s where trust is traded.”
“You realize you’re walking into a ring of vipers, right?”
“I’ve danced with worse in Havana casinos,” Valentina replied smoothly. “These men bleed the same. I just smile while I carve.”
Lola’s voice softened. “Don’t fall, Val.”
Valentina raised a brow at her own reflection. “Fall?”
“For him.”
There was silence on the line. Then Valentina said, barely above a whisper, “I won’t.”
That evening, the Estate’s grand dining hall gleamed under low-hung chandeliers. The room was filled with men in sleek suits and women dressed in wary elegance.
Their eyes lingered on Valentina like she didn’t belong. Adriano walked in beside her, every inch the shadowed king in a tailored suit.
“Tonight, you are an ornament,” Adriano murmured, voice low against her ear. “Nothing more. Speak when spoken to. Smile like it’s real.”
Valentina smiled flawlessly. “And what do I do if someone points a gun at you?”
“Let them,” he said with a slight smirk.
She arched an elegant brow. “You’re brave.”
“No,” Adriano leaned closer. “I’m bored. There’s a difference.”
At the long oak table, Don Vittore eyed Valentina with playful interest. “So, this is the woman who tamed the De Luca storm?”
Valentina gave a light chuckle. “Hardly tamed. I just brought an umbrella.”
He laughed, clearly amused. “Sharp. Pretty. Dangerous?”
She raised her glass. “That depends who’s asking.”
Adriano, eyes fixed on her, said, “She’s a guest. Not prey.”
Don Vittore gave a pointed smile. “Everyone’s prey eventually, Adriano. The question is, who bites first?”
Later, after dinner, Valentina slipped out onto the private balcony for air. The city lights glittered below like shattered stars. Adriano joined her, silence trailing behind him.
“You talk too easily with men who kill,” he said, his tone unreadable.
She leaned against the iron railing, her voice calm. “And you trust me too easily for a man who rules them.”
“I don’t trust you.”
Valentina turned slightly, a knowing smile curving her lips. “Then why bring me into this world?”
He stepped close enough that she could feel the weight of his gaze. “Because I want to see if you survive it.”
She didn’t blink. “What if I do more than survive?”
Adriano studied her. “Then maybe I’ll start to believe you’re more than a beautiful lie.”
Valentina’s voice was smooth. “Believe it now. I’m more dangerous than I look.”
“Good,” he said. “I prefer my threats in silk.”
Much later, in the strategy room, Gianni leaned back after watching security footage. “She handled Don Vittore like a politician.”
“She’s calculating,” Adriano replied. “She listens more than she speaks. She’s testing us.”
Gianni glanced at him. “You planning to keep her?”
“She’s useful—for now.”
“And when she’s not?”
Adriano’s voice turned cold. “She won’t know the difference between use and betrayal until it’s too late.”
In the quiet of her room, Valentina whispered into her small recorder, hidden under a silk scarf:
“Day eight. He’s watching everything. I can feel it in how his eyes linger, in how he says my fake name like he’s tasted it before. He wants the truth. But he doesn’t deserve it.” She paused, swallowing. “Sometimes I wonder if I deserve it either. But it’s too late for wondering. I’m in now. In deep. If I hesitate, I die. If I feel, I drown. So I smile. I lie. I stay alive.”
In a memory from five years earlier, Havana pulsed with humid danger. Valentina, only eighteen then, stared at Lola with disbelief. “You want me to do what?”
“Pretend,” Lola answered calmly. “Make the dealer fall in love. Then take the diamonds.”
Valentina’s voice was uncertain. “I’m not a thief.”
“You’re already starving, Val. This is survival with lipstick.”
Valentina looked down, her voice barely audible. “What if I become what I pretend to be?”
Lola leaned closer. “Then make sure no one ever sees the real you long enough to tell.”
Back in Milan, dawn had just begun to kiss the sky when Valentina wandered into the estate garden, mist curling around her legs. She found Adriano already there, sleeves rolled up, watering a rare white rose. “I never took you for a gardener,” she said softly.
Without looking at her, he replied, “Everything dies without attention. Even things that kill.”
“Like you?”
He finally turned. “Like you.”
“You think I’m a killer?”
“I think you’re hiding something that already has blood on it.”
Valentina didn’t deny it. “Maybe I am.”
Adriano stepped toward her. “Then show me.”
A small smile touched her lips. “And if I do?”
His voice darkened. “I decide whether to protect it… or end it.”
That night, she stepped into Adriano’s bedroom. He sat reading from an old, worn notebook, the pages faded with time. She studied the walls, the silence between them.
“You invited me into your fortress,” she said.
He didn’t look up. “I invited a liar into a liar’s house. Fitting, don’t you think?”
Valentina moved closer. “What do you want from me?”
He finally met her gaze. “The truth. One sliver. Any part.”
“I don’t remember most of it,” she said slowly. “That’s the worst part.”
“Most of what?”
She hesitated. “My childhood. My mother. The blood. The scream.”
His eyes sharpened. “What scream?”
Valentina backed away, voice cracking. “I don’t know. I don’t—sometimes I see things, but I can’t tell if it’s memory or nightmare.”
Adriano rose and crossed the room toward her. “You’re not just after my money, are you?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know what I’m after anymore.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “Then let’s both find out. But don’t lie to me again, Valentina. I don’t forgive lies. I use them.”