His Contracted Temptation; Velvet Lies

VALERIA

The attention is no longer on me, yet I can feel the anger and hatred seething under Florence's skin the same way you feel the winter chill before snow starts to fall. Her nostrils flare slightly, lips twitching like they're struggling to stay calm.

"Don't act surprised, mother. You keep on asking me to settle down," Dante scoffs. "Besides, this would stop investors from pulling out and the feds from snooping around."

Florence lets out a visible sigh of relief, a small knowing smile tilts her lips as she hurriedly gulps down her drink.

"It's a contract marriage, after all," she says softly, sounding more like she's trying to convince herself than anyone else.

"And," Dante pauses. Both Florence and Lucas' eyes snap towards him. "This marriage is going to be my first and last. I don't plan on marrying anyone other than Valeria now or ever." The certainty in his voice makes me want to both blush and hide.

"Lucas, say something!" Florence's eyes dart between Dante and me, then her husband. "You're his father."

I have to stop myself from scoffing at her desperate plea.

"You'd cut yourself out of the inheritance if you go against us." Lucas's voice drops to that calm, dangerous register that makes the room feel smaller. His features harden into steel as he glares at his son.

"An inheritance of what?" Dante asks, shaking his head in wry amusement. "Real estate and material I could get myself? You seem to forget I transferred my shares to my own holding company years ago. And you never signed a conditional leadership agreement."

Lucas snorts, leaning back in his chair. "You think a holding company saves you? One bad headline, and the board votes you out under the performance clause I wrote myself." Then, lowering his voice, he adds, "You can keep your shares, but forget about the rest. The estate, the trust, the old money-none of that will bear your name after this."

"Then I'll build mine from scratch. Without your shadow hanging over me," Dante says, tossing his napkin across the table, a subtle tick in his jaw.

God, this is worse than I imagined. I mean, I expected Florence's bullying, but them disinheriting Dante? My appetite vanishes. My stomach churns, and my heartbeat drums heavily in my chest. The thought of Dante planning to build from scratch reminds me of my ironic reality. I guess building from scratch is a different reality for people like him.

"You're going to regret this, and when you do, it might be too late," Lucas says flatly.

"Let me be the judge of that." Dante's gaze meets his mother's. "Don't look so surprised. You taught me yourself to always stay one step ahead. What did you call it again?" He feigns a pause. "Ah, futuristic thinking."

The color drains from her face; even her diamond earrings seem to lose their sparkle as she grips her fork hard, knuckles white.

"Don't you dare use my own words against me." Her voice trembles, and all of a sudden, the intimidating woman I met earlier looks smaller... frail even.

"Good night, Mom. Dad. I love you." Dante rises and steps behind my chair, pulling it back slightly.

"Goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Romano, thank you for dinner," I murmur, avoiding eye contact.

Dante's hand slips around my waist as we leave the dining room in silence. Guilt worms its way into my thoughts, breeding doubt and fear. I've dealt with powerful people before; this won't be the last of it. Families like the Romanos always find a way to get what they want. It's only a matter of time.

I glance at Dante, who looks calm as ever, like his parents didn't just threaten to disinherit him.

"Let me handle the thinking, Valeria," he says softly. I look away quickly, biting my lower lip.

A flicker of confusion crosses Augustine's face before it returns to neutral.

"Are you leaving already, Master Dante?" Augustine asks.

"I'm afraid so, Augustine. See you when next I visit." A faint smile lifts his lips, dimples forming in his left cheek. "Good night."

The butler bows. "Goodnight, Master Dante, and Miss..."

"Valentine," I offer spitefully-then Dante pokes my waist. "I mean, Valeria."

"Goodnight, Miss Valeria. Have a lovely night."

We both murmur our goodbyes and step into the cold night air. The chill hits like ice after the suffocating warmth of the Romano home.

"What was that about, Valeria, or do we now call you Valentine?" Dante scoffs, sliding into the seat beside mine.

"Valentine, please. It has the Italian flair your family might actually appreciate."

"I doubt it," Dante says quietly. The engine roars to life, and the privacy glass slides up. I steal a few glances at him, wondering if I should bring up his parents' threat. The logical part of me knows I shouldn't-but the silence is maddening. Dante isn't scrolling through his phone like usual. He's just staring out the window, checking the time every so often. He looks... tired.

"I'm sorry about my parents," Dante says finally. "They're not used to change."

"You mean poor people?" I tease.

Dante rolls his eyes, a small smile flickering across his face. "Semantics."

He turns toward me, more serious now. "Really, I didn't need to bring you here. My original plan was to just let the media run with our relationship. Guess I got carried away."

"So... this is the last family dinner I'll be attending?" I ask.

"Very unlikely."

"Guess my dream of a drama-free in-law dinner was just a fantasy," I sigh. "Do they really plan on disinheriting you?"

"Yes-if I hadn't played my trump card. But my parents are stubborn, so fingers crossed." The way he says it, without a hint of worry, makes me wonder where he gets that kind of confidence. Mars?

"Well, I'd hate to come from your family-if that helps."

Dante laughs, a real one this time. It's rich and contagious, and before I know it, I'm laughing too.

Then his phone rings, slicing through the moment.

"Excuse me." He lifts a finger. "Alejandro? What-" His expression tightens. Dante switches to Italian, his voice rising with every word as he bolts upright in his seat. He runs a hand through his hair, muttering, "Fuck."

Cupping the phone, he lowers the divider. "Drop me off at the office and take Valeria home," he says, then returns to the call, leaving me in silence and confusion.