Mafia's Captive Bride

BOOM!

And then the gavel hit the judge's desk, sealing her fate.

Valeria Montoya froze in the center of the sprawling courtroom, her heart pounding against her rib cage as the words rang in her ears.

"For crimes against the Montoya Corporation, Ms. Valeria Montoya is sentenced to two years in federal prison."

Gurgles of horror spread through the audience, but the reaction that knifed home was the monied grin creasing the mouth of the woman sitting next to Valeria's father.

Catalina.

Her younger sister. Her own flesh and blood.

Wearing a sleek black gown that hugged her shape, Catalina leaned against Alonso, Valeria's would-be fiancé. Alonso gave her a side-eye and placed a chaste kiss on Catalina's forehead, intertwining his fingers between her own.

Valeria's stomach turned inside out.

This wasn't happening.

"Father," she choked out, turning to the man she had always admired, hoping - praying - that he would stand up for her.

But Don Hector Montoya - one of the most powerful men in Mexico - merely pulled at his cufflinks and stared at her coolly, without emotion.

"You let me down, Valeria." His voice was cutting, like a knife. "You deserve this."

No. No, no, no.

"I didn't do this!" Valeria shouted, turning to the judge. "I was framed! I would never steal from the company!"

The guards were already coming her way.

"You have to believe me!" she wept, scanning the room for a friendly face. There was none.

"Take her away," the judge ordered.

Arms, clamped and hauling her back.

"No! Let me go!" She fought it, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Alonso, tell 'em the truth!"

Her former fiancé didn't so much as glance at her. He simply loomed next to Catalina with his arm protectively slung around her waist.

That was when it hit her.

They had planned this.

Her own sister had snatched away her fiancé, framed her, and ultimately made sure that she was deleted from the Montoya clan.

As the guards pulled her from the courtroom, Valeria would lock eyes once more with Catalina.

The woman she had once known - the sister she had once loved - smiled.

And then, in the coldest, most bone-chilling voice, Catalina said:

"Stay in prison, dear sister. It suits you."

Prison: Two Years Later

The cell was damp. Cold. Suffocating.

For two years, Valeria had resided in this hellhole, suffering mocking, abuse and the daily reminder that her family had forsaken her.

They never visited.

They never sent letters.

In their eyes, she was already dead.

As she lay staring at the ceiling, facing cracks for the hundredth time, her fingers curled into fists.

Then she heard the sound of heavy boots clumping down the hallway.

A guard came and unlocked the cell. "Get up, Montoya. Time to go."

Go?

Her heart leaped. Was she being released?

Weak from malnutrition, she stood and followed the guard down a dimly lit hall.

When he opened the door, she thought, her father would be standing there, arms wide with the ultimate realization that he had been wrong.

But instead...

She saw strangers.

Next to a sleek dark car were three men dressed in black suits. One of them - a muscly guy with a scar down the side of his face - walked over to her, holding a folded piece of paper.

"Sign this," he ordered.

She glanced at the paper. It was a contract.

A marriage contract.

Her blood ran cold. "What is this?"

The man's dark eyes glinted. "Your father sold you."

Valeria's throat constricted with unexpected breath.

No. No, he wouldn't...

Would he?

The man leaned closer, lowered his voice to a whisper. "You belong to Rafael DeLuca now."

Her pulse stopped.

Mexico's most dangerous mafia boss.

The man who had set whole empires on fire.

Her new husband.

And she suddenly understood - prison had merely opened the door to her nightmare.

Who is Rafael DeLuca, and why did he purchase Valeria?

Legs like lead, breath stuttering to short, uneven bursts as the contract lay in trembling fingers.

"Your father sold you."

The words ricocheted in her head, louder than the clanging echo as the prison gates crashed shut behind her.

Stunned, her lips separated as a shaky breath slipped loose. "This ... this has to be a mistake."

The man before her - the scarred face, the dark calculating eyes - tilted his head slightly, amusement flashing in his gaze. "There is no mistake, señora. Now you are the property of Rafael DeLuca."

Her property?

Another wave of nausea twisted in her belly.

This couldn't be happening.

Her father was ruthless, yes. A cold businessman. But selling her? Delivering her to a mafia boss like a cow?

She shook her head, backing away. "I won't do this. I won't-"

The man raised a hand, and two armed guards rushed her, grabbing her by the arms.

Valeria fought, panic bursting inside her. "Let me go!"

No one listened.

The scarred man - Matteo, she had heard one of the guards call him - sighed as if it were all a tiresome bother. "Señor DeLuca does not like disobedience."

He nodded once, and the guards pulled her toward the black car.

"Wait!" they shouted, their feet slipping on the gravel. "I won't sign it! You can't force me to-"

"Your father already signed it in for you," Matteo cut in smoothly. "Your fate was already determined long before you stepped out of your cell."

Her blood ran cold.

That was it. The final betrayal.

She had clung to some stupid, pathetic hope that perhaps-perhaps-her father had recognized the error of his ways. That he would set it all right.

But no.

He hadn't just discarded her. He had sold her to Mexico's most dangerous man.

Before she could scream, she was pushed into the backseat of the car, the door slamming behind her.

Dark-tinted windows. Soft leather seats. The faintest whiff of something expensive - cologne and cigar smoke.

She didn't have a moment to process before the engine roared to life and the car lurched.

Her heart pounded wildly.

"Where are you taking me?"

Matteo looked at her through the rearview mirror. "To your new home, naturally."

Home.

She pushed against the door, every pore of her body demanding to be let out.

But where would she go? She had nothing. No dough, no pals, no juice.

All that remained was the sadistic man who waited for her at the end of this road.

Rafael DeLuca.

The Arrival at the Estate

It felt like hours driving through, where the city was swallowed up by winding roads and darkened trees.

When the car finally came to a stop, Valeria's heart raced.

Before her was not a mansion - a mansion - but a fortress.

High iron gates, guarded by men with rifles strapped to their chests. The walls had security cameras, and beyond them, the estate stretched into the distance, all golden lights.

A palace that is really a prison.

As the gates began to part, she could feel it: the weight of power.

Whoever lived here controlled more than a mafia empire. He owned everything. Everyone.

The car halted, and the door swung open. Matteo's voice was controlled but stern. "Time to meet your husband."

Valeria hesitated.

Her body screamed to run. But where?

She took a deep breath and stepped out, her legs wobbly.

And as soon as she did, the mansion doors opened.

And then-he stepped out.

Rafael DeLuca.

Of course she had seen pictures of him before. All the newspapers in Mexico had written him up. The invincible King of the Underworld.

But nothing could prepare her for the real McCoy.

Tall. Powerful. Dangerous.

Clad in a sharp black suit, he walked down the steps as though the world belonged to him. His hair was sleek and black as an oil slick, his jaw hard as a knife blade, and his unsettling emerald-green eyes drilled into her like a predator studying prey.

A slow, lethal smile creased his lips.

"Oh," he murmured, voice as low as sin. "My bride has arrived."

Valeria's blood ran cold.

The First Encounter

Rafael DeLuca did not run to her. He didn't demand submission.

He simply watched.

Stood still and watched her. Like they were seeing if she was going to snap or stand up.

Valeria refused to break.

She lifted her chin and made sure her voice didn't waver. "I didn't agree to this."

Rafael's smile didn't falter. "I didn't come here to ask your permission."

Something dark flickered in his eyes, and she had the icy realization that this man had never in his life heard the word no.

Her hands balled into fists. "I'm not something you can buy, I'm not a possession."

Rafael moved closer to me, as if his presence could suffocate me. "And yet, here you are."

Valeria stepped back - dumb move.

His smirk deepened. "Are you afraid, Valeria?"

Fear?

She was terrified. But she didn't let him see it.

She held his gaze, steel in her spine. "I hate you."

Rafael laughed-a low, girthy sound sending tingles across her spine.

"Good," he murmured. "Despise me all you want, querida. But remember one thing-"

His hand rose, skimming one finger along her jawline. As feather-light as it gets, but the heft of a thousand unsaid threats.

"You belong to me now."

A tremor shot through her.

No.

Absolutely not, she wasn't going to be nobody's pawn anymore.

But as she looked into the eyes of the devil himself, she knew - this was a different kind of prison. One she might never escape.

And worse?

There was part of her that still wasn't sure she wanted to.

How will Rafael treat his new bride?

The walls of Rafael DeLuca's mansion seemed to be closing in on her.

Valeria froze in the marble-floored foyer, her heart a caged bird thrashing wildly against its ribbed prison.

The air was rich with luxury - expensive cigars, aged whiskey and something darker, something that was all his.

Her captor. Her husband.

Rafael hadn't made a single move from where he stood, hands in his pockets, surveying her like a predator hunting its meal.

"Matteo," he said slowly, after a moment of silence, "take my bride to her room."

His room. His prison.

Valeria's spine stiffened. "I'm not your bride," she spat at him, her voice shaky despite her best effort.

Rafael chuckled. "Oh, querida, you are. Whether you like it or not."

His tone did something to her blood, boiled it.

This was a game to him. A twisted, cruel amusement.

She started to protest but there was Matteo, right next to her, his grip on her arm firm but surprisingly gentle.

"Come," he murmured, the timbre of his voice softer than Rafael's but with an undertone of caution nonetheless.

Valeria had no option but to follow.

The Gilded Cage

Matteo guided her through a maze of hallways, past sparkling chandeliers and gold-framed walls.

The further they descended, the more rigid the knowing felt.

She wasn't in any Rafael DeLuca's home. She was in his world.

And finally they stopped before huge mahogany doors. Matteo shoved them open to reveal a bedroom so opulent it would not have been out of place in a palace.

A king-size bed with silk sheets dominated the room. French doors opened onto a balcony that overlooked a large courtyard.

It was breathtaking.

It was a cage.

She glanced at Matteo, her throat constricted. "What happens now?"

Matteo didn't answer. He just gave her a slight nod before taking a step backward and closing the door behind him.

A lock clicked into place.

Valeria breathed unevenly, pinching her fingertips against her temples.

Her father had sold her. Her sister had framed her. And now she was the property of the most dangerous man in Mexico.

Her legs buckled, and she went down onto the bed.

Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall.

She wouldn't break.

Not yet.

Not in front of him.

Dinner with the Devil

It would be hours before the doors reopened.

This time, it wasn't Matteo.

It was him.

Rafael entered unannounced, eyes shining with something éclant, a glass of red in one hand.

He was holding a tray. Dinner.

She stared at it as though it were poison. "Are you hoping that I'll be grateful?"

He smirked. "No, but I do expect you to eat."

His stomach protested in betrayal, but he turned a deaf ear.

Instead she raised her chin, defiantly. "If you imagine I'm going to sit and have dinner with you like some obedient wife, you're mistaken."

Rafael's smirk didn't falter.

Then, for no reason, he snatched up the tray and swept an arm across it, dumping the whole meal in a crash on the floor.

Valeria jumped.

He stepped closer, voice treacherously low. "Do not confuse my patience with weakness, Valeria."

Her pulse pounded.

"Eat," he continued. "Or I'll feed you myself."

There was something in his voice that sent a shiver through her.

This man was unpredictable. He might slay her in an instant - or crush her with unwanted tenderness.

Neither option was safe.

After swallowing hard, she picked up the fork and, her movements slow and deliberate, took a bite.

Rafael stared at her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

"Good girl," he murmured.

She nearly choked on the food.

She gritted her teeth beneath the table.

She hated him.

Loathed how effortlessly he manipulated everything. Hated that he could make her heart stutter in fear - or something worse.

She needed to escape.

And soon.

The Escape Attempt

That evening, waiting to be sure the house had settled into silence, Valeria made her move.

She tiptoed to the balcony doors and jiggled the handle.

Unlocked.

Hope flickered in her chest.

She opened the door and stepped outside, peering over the courtyard below. It was a long way down, but vines crept up the side of the building. If she could just-

Two strong arms suddenly encircled her waist.

Gasped when she got jerked backward and slammed into a hard, unyielding chest.

She felt warm breath on her ear.

"Going somewhere, mi amor?"

Rafael.

Her heart thundered.

How had he been close enough to catch her so quickly? She hadn't even noticed he'd come into the room.

"Get off me," she said, squirming.

His grip tightened. "If you want to jump, then jump. His voice was low, mocking. "But I wonder... how far would you run before my men tracked you down?"

Fear coiled in her stomach.

She knew the answer.

She wouldn't get far at all.

He turned her in his arms, making her meet his gaze. "I will give you one warning, Valeria." His voice was deceptively gentle, but his hold on her wrist was ironclad.

"If you run again ..." His lips brushed her ear. "I will chain you to my bed."

Her breath caught.

It was a thrеat, piqued with somеthing that was darkеr, something dangers.

And for the first time, Valeria understood the truth.

Where wasn't she stuck in Rafael's house.

She was stuck into his game.

And if she didn't take care, she wouldn't make it through.

What will Rafael decide next? Can Valeria actually free herself from his clutches?