Under the Mafia King’s Control

The next morning, I woke up with a strange sensation, as though something heavy was pressing down on my chest. For a fleeting moment, I thought it had all been a dream. But reality quickly set in.

I had agreed to marry Alessandro Valenti.

The details of our discussion at the restaurant returned to me in fragments, each one a brutal reminder of what I had signed up for. This hadn't been a choice made lightly but out of necessity—for the child, to offer them the stability I'd never had. And yet, part of me couldn't stop wondering if I'd made an irreversible mistake.

Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling for a while, unmoving. Then, on a sudden impulse, I grabbed my phone and began searching for information about Alessandro.

Until now, I hadn't made it a priority. I'd been so consumed by the circumstances of my pregnancy and the weight of the decisions before me that I hadn't taken the time to understand who he really was.

I typed his name into the search bar, and results appeared instantly.

Alessandro Valenti: CEO and heir to Valenti International.

I skimmed through the first few articles. He was described as a business prodigy, having taken over the family empire at a young age and tripling its value in less than five years. The photos of him in immaculate suits at conferences and prestigious events perfectly matched the commanding presence he exuded in person: imposing, charismatic, almost intimidating.

But that wasn't all.

The further I scrolled, the more I found articles hinting at a darker side to his life. Rumors of his connections to powerful, shadowy circles. Speculations about unconventional—possibly ruthless—methods of running his business. Nothing concrete, of course. Just insinuations.

One photo in particular caught my eye. It showed Alessandro leaving a luxurious building in Milan, surrounded by several imposing men. The caption mentioned a "private meeting with foreign investors."

Investors? Really?

I kept scrolling, but none of the articles offered any solid answers. Everything seemed carefully curated, as though someone was ensuring that nothing incriminating ever made it to the surface.

Frustrated, I set my phone down on the nightstand. I'd searched for answers, but all I'd found were more questions.

Alessandro Valenti was a mystery.

I took a long shower, hoping the hot water would wash away my doubts. But even after I got dressed and sipped on a cup of tea, the knot in my stomach refused to loosen.

A message from Alessandro came through shortly after.

"I'll pick you up at 10 a.m. We have preparations to make."

Preparations. I realized that this arranged marriage, as transactional as it was, still required logistics. But the thought of spending the day with him, pretending I was okay with this situation, felt almost unbearable.

I didn't have much time to dwell on it. At exactly 10 a.m., the doorbell rang.

When I opened the door, there he was, as always impeccable in a dark suit. But this time, something in his expression seemed less rigid.

"Ready?" he asked, his gaze briefly scanning my outfit.

I was dressed simply: jeans and a white blouse. A small act of defiance, a reminder that I wasn't about to dress up just to fit into his world.

"Not really, but I suppose that doesn't matter," I said, crossing my arms.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as though he found my response amusing.

"It's a start," he said, stepping aside for me to pass.

The car waiting for us was, unsurprisingly, a sleek black sedan with tinted windows. As I got in, I noticed someone else already seated inside.

A tall man with slightly tousled black hair and sharp, observant eyes. He wore a suit, though less formal than Alessandro's, and a silver watch that caught the light.

Alessandro introduced him.

"Arianna, this is Matteo. My right hand."

Matteo extended a hand with a polite smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Arianna. I've heard a lot about you."

"Likewise," I replied, shaking his hand, though the idea of Alessandro discussing me with his associates made me uneasy.

"Matteo is here to assist with certain aspects of the wedding," Alessandro explained.

I frowned. "You need your right hand to help plan a wedding?"

Matteo laughed. "Not exactly. Let's just say I'm here to ensure everything goes smoothly. Alessandro likes things to be… perfect."

"Perfect," I echoed, folding my arms. "Nothing about this situation is perfect."

Alessandro, seated beside me, gave me a calm look.

"Perhaps not, but that doesn't mean we can't do things properly."

Our destination was a luxury boutique specializing in weddings. The moment we entered, I was overwhelmed by the opulence: gowns adorned with pearls and lace, rows of glittering shoes, and staff that looked like they belonged in a fashion magazine.

A woman with a dazzling smile approached us.

"Mr. Valenti, what a pleasure to see you again. Is this the bride-to-be?"

Alessandro nodded. "Yes, this is Arianna. We need her dress today. Something simple yet elegant."

The woman turned to me, her scrutinizing gaze making me instantly uncomfortable.

"Come with me, miss. We'll show you our finest pieces," she said, gesturing for me to follow.

I glanced back at Alessandro, hoping for some kind of reprieve, but he remained impassive, hands in his pockets. Matteo, on the other hand, looked mildly amused.

The fittings were a nightmare.

Each dress seemed more elaborate and uncomfortable than the last. I stepped out of the dressing room feeling ridiculous every time, only for Alessandro to watch me with his neutral, assessing expression.

"This one is stunning," the saleswoman declared as she spun me toward a mirror. The gown was silk, with pearl embroidery and a long train.

I stared at my reflection, feeling like I was looking at a stranger.

"No," Alessandro said abruptly, his voice firm.

I turned to him, startled.

"Why not?" the saleswoman asked, clearly confused.

"It's not Arianna," he replied simply.

His gaze met mine, and for the first time, I saw something different in his eyes: he was genuinely trying to understand who I was.

"Find something else. Something… authentic," he added, turning back to the saleswoman.

After several more dresses, we finally found one I liked. Simple, elegant, free of unnecessary embellishments.

When I stepped out wearing it, Alessandro nodded slowly, and even Matteo gave an approving smile.

"Perfect," Alessandro said. "That's the one."

I didn't say anything, too drained from the process to argue.

On the drive back, silence filled the car. Matteo was occupied with his phone, leaving Alessandro and me in an oddly charged stillness.

"Why did you reject the first dress?" I finally asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

Alessandro turned his head slightly toward me.

"Because it didn't reflect who you are."

His response left me speechless.

I turned away, staring out the window as the city blurred past. Maybe, despite everything, this man saw more of me than I wanted to admit.

But that didn't mean I was ready to trust him.

The rest of the day was a blur of preparations. By the time Alessandro finally dropped me off at my apartment, I was emotionally and mentally exhausted. As I stepped out of the car, he called out one last thing.

"You've made the right choice, Arianna. You'll see."

I didn't respond, shutting the door behind me as I headed back to the sanctuary of my home.

That night, as I lay in bed, Alessandro's words echoed in my mind. Despite everything, there was a part of me that couldn't shake the feeling that I was stepping into something far bigger than I realized.