Chapter 2
Serena's POV
Dante Valenti was not what I expected.
When Papa first proposed the arrangement two years ago, I'd imagined some aging mob boss with a cigar and a wandering eye. The Valenti family ran half of Europe's underground — weapons, territories, alliances that made governments nervous.
But the man who walked into my father's study the next morning was young, sharp, and devastating.
Dark hair pushed back from a face that could've been carved from marble. Eyes so black they swallowed the light. He wore a charcoal suit that fit like sin, and when he extended his hand to me, I noticed the silver ring on his index finger — the Valenti crest.
"Miss Serena Romano," he said. His voice was low, unhurried. "I've waited a long time for this."
I shook his hand, keeping my expression neutral. "Mr. Valenti. I hope you understand — this is a practical arrangement."
"Dante," he corrected. A faint smile. "And yes. I understand perfectly."
Something about the way he looked at me — like he already knew more than he should — made my pulse skip. But I pushed it down.
This wasn't about attraction. This was about survival. About pride.
Papa cleared his throat from behind his desk. "Well then, since you've both agreed — shall we discuss the timeline?"
"Three weeks," I said without hesitation.
Both men looked at me.
"I want the wedding in three weeks," I repeated. "Same date as—" I caught myself. "I have my reasons."
Dante studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Three weeks. I'll handle the arrangements."
"One more condition," I added.
He tilted his head, waiting.
"The ceremony. I want it at St. Claren's Chapel."
Papa's eyes widened. He knew — everyone in this city knew — that St. Claren's sat directly across the plaza from the Cathedral of the Saints.
The exact cathedral where Dominic was planning his wedding to Vivienne.
Dante's smile deepened, just barely. "Consider it done."
...
That evening, I met Dominic for dinner.
He was already seated when I arrived — fidgeting with his cufflinks, which meant he was nervous. Good.
"Serena." He stood, kissed my cheek. "You look beautiful."
I smiled. "You said you had something important to tell me?"
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Listen — this isn't easy for me to say."
I folded my hands in my lap and waited.
"I think we should... take a break," he said carefully. "Not because I don't love you. I do. But things have been complicated lately, and I think we both need space to figure out what we want."
A break. Not even a clean ending. He wanted to keep me dangling while he married someone else.
"Complicated how?" I asked, my voice perfectly steady.
"Just — life. Work. Family stuff." He wouldn't meet my eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, Serena."
"You're not hurting me," I said softly.
He looked relieved. The bastard actually looked relieved.
"So you understand?" he asked.
"Perfectly." I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Take all the time you need, Dominic."
His shoulders dropped. "Thank you. God, I was so worried you'd—" He laughed nervously. "I'm glad you're being so cool about this."
I smiled wider. "Of course. We're adults."
What I didn't tell him: while he'd been rehearsing his "break" speech, I'd spent the afternoon signing engagement papers with a man whose family could crush the Ashfords with a single phone call.
I didn't tell him that in three weeks, I'd be walking down an aisle too.
And I certainly didn't tell him that the chapel was close enough for him to hear the bells.
...
Back home, I found a single white rose on my doorstep. No card. No note.
But I knew who it was from.
Dante Valenti moved fast. And something told me he already knew exactly why I wanted that date and that chapel.
The question was — why was he so willing to play along?
Dante Valenti was not what I expected.
When Papa first proposed the arrangement two years ago, I'd imagined some aging mob boss with a cigar and a wandering eye. The Valenti family ran half of Europe's underground — weapons, territories, alliances that made governments nervous.
But the man who walked into my father's study the next morning was young, sharp, and devastating.
Dark hair pushed back from a face that could've been carved from marble. Eyes so black they swallowed the light. He wore a charcoal suit that fit like sin, and when he extended his hand to me, I noticed the silver ring on his index finger — the Valenti crest.
"Miss Serena Romano," he said. His voice was low, unhurried. "I've waited a long time for this."
I shook his hand, keeping my expression neutral. "Mr. Valenti. I hope you understand — this is a practical arrangement."
"Dante," he corrected. A faint smile. "And yes. I understand perfectly."
Something about the way he looked at me — like he already knew more than he should — made my pulse skip. But I pushed it down.
This wasn't about attraction. This was about survival. About pride.
Papa cleared his throat from behind his desk. "Well then, since you've both agreed — shall we discuss the timeline?"
"Three weeks," I said without hesitation.
Both men looked at me.
"I want the wedding in three weeks," I repeated. "Same date as—" I caught myself. "I have my reasons."
Dante studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Three weeks. I'll handle the arrangements."
"One more condition," I added.
He tilted his head, waiting.
"The ceremony. I want it at St. Claren's Chapel."
Papa's eyes widened. He knew — everyone in this city knew — that St. Claren's sat directly across the plaza from the Cathedral of the Saints.
The exact cathedral where Dominic was planning his wedding to Vivienne.
Dante's smile deepened, just barely. "Consider it done."
...
That evening, I met Dominic for dinner.
He was already seated when I arrived — fidgeting with his cufflinks, which meant he was nervous. Good.
"Serena." He stood, kissed my cheek. "You look beautiful."
I smiled. "You said you had something important to tell me?"
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Listen — this isn't easy for me to say."
I folded my hands in my lap and waited.
"I think we should... take a break," he said carefully. "Not because I don't love you. I do. But things have been complicated lately, and I think we both need space to figure out what we want."
A break. Not even a clean ending. He wanted to keep me dangling while he married someone else.
"Complicated how?" I asked, my voice perfectly steady.
"Just — life. Work. Family stuff." He wouldn't meet my eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, Serena."
"You're not hurting me," I said softly.
He looked relieved. The bastard actually looked relieved.
"So you understand?" he asked.
"Perfectly." I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Take all the time you need, Dominic."
His shoulders dropped. "Thank you. God, I was so worried you'd—" He laughed nervously. "I'm glad you're being so cool about this."
I smiled wider. "Of course. We're adults."
What I didn't tell him: while he'd been rehearsing his "break" speech, I'd spent the afternoon signing engagement papers with a man whose family could crush the Ashfords with a single phone call.
I didn't tell him that in three weeks, I'd be walking down an aisle too.
And I certainly didn't tell him that the chapel was close enough for him to hear the bells.
...
Back home, I found a single white rose on my doorstep. No card. No note.
But I knew who it was from.
Dante Valenti moved fast. And something told me he already knew exactly why I wanted that date and that chapel.
The question was — why was he so willing to play along?