The Obsessed CEO'S Untamable Little One

Athena sighed boredly at her parents' recommendations as they saw her off at the airport. They reminded her of the importance of being polite, avoiding rudeness, and maintaining the composure befitting a Volkova.

"Ate." Her sister approached her discreetly to whisper something in her ear. "I packed all your favorite toys and some condoms, just in case," she told her. "If your husband doesn't deliver, call me; I have a lot of Italian friends there, okay?"

"You're the best, sis!" She hugged her, pretending, while her parents looked at them with suspicion. "Are the leashes in there, too?" she asked in a whisper.

"Of course." She pulled away smiling. "All your favorite outfits, too."

"Don't play dumb; I know what you're talking about," her mother interrupted. "I've already told you, Athena, you must..."

"Yes, Mom, I heard you." She rolled her eyes. "Be polite, don't cause scandals, and all that nonsense about being a respectable noblewoman."

"Listen to your mother, Ate." Her father approached and hugged her. "Take care, and please, I beg you, behave with the Rizzos. You'll survive."

"Oh, of course I will." She nodded like a good girl. "Don't worry, I'll do my best to get along with my future husband."

The bodyguards begin to load her numerous luggage into the private plane, a reflection of the millionaire princess status she holds. She is ready to embark on her new journey full of adventures, or as she calls it, "mischief."

Before boarding, she says goodbye with one last hug to her parents and her sister. However, a familiar squeal resonates from afar, stopping her in her tracks.

"Ate!" A breathless shout makes her turn, and a girl running in thin heels leaves her astonished. "Wait, Ate!"

"Leyla?!" She rubs her eyes in disbelief. "Is that really you?!"

The girl with short, straight hair stops her race in heels, standing in front of Athena, who looks at her as if she were a being from another planet invading her peaceful space.

"Were you thinking of leaving me here?" she questions, catching her breath while two men arrive behind her with her luggage. "If you're going to hell, I'm... damn it, hold on, I'll take a little more air." She fans herself with her hand before continuing. "If you're going to hell, I'm going with you," she finally concludes.

Athena launches herself at her, hugging her while kissing her face, ruining her perfect makeup a little.

"You are everything that's right, Layla!" she squeals with joy. "Did your parents let you come with me? I thought I would have to endure all this alone."

"I had to use my wiles for two days." She winks at her. "I'm not going to miss the opportunity to meet those rich Italians."

"You've eaten up more than one besides your disgusting boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend," she corrects her proudly.

"Good for you."

"Ahem." Her father clears his throat. "We're still here."

"Layla, thank you so much for always being there for my daughter," the woman says, taking her hands. "Take care of her, and make her see reason, please."

"Don't worry, ma'am, I'll do everything in my power."

"No one believes that," Cayetana mutters. "They're both the same, Mom, don't believe her."

After a brief discussion about who was better and who was worse, Athena and her friend boarded the plane bound for Rome. Both have been inseparable since childhood; they studied together, and their parents are good friends.

Although Layla is two years older than Athena, they share the same wild and carefree temperament, typical of spoiled girls.

The flight only took three and a half hours to reach its destination. Athena gets off the plane, holding her friend's arm, adjusting her sunglasses while the other smiles widely.

"Benvenuta, principessa," Layla says excitedly. "What do you think? Isn't it beautiful?"

"You're so dramatic; we've been to Rome more than once," she mutters as they walk. They stop when they see a car parked right in front of them, with several men waiting.

"And who are they?" her friend asks.

"I have no idea," she replies.

"Ladies," an older man approaches. "I'm Martín, the Rizzo family butler; I have come to welcome you."

"Oh, nice to meet you, I'm Layla, the bride's best friend," the redhead introduces herself, extending her hand, which the man takes courteously.

"And I am Athena Volkova." She extends her right hand; the man takes it, kissing the back of it.

"I regret to tell you that the master could not come to personally receive you as he is attending to important matters," he informs, disconcerting Athena.

"Excuse me? I don't understand; I'm not expecting anyone," she clarifies, leaving the man flustered.

"Uh... I mean your fiancé, Miss; he couldn't come to receive you," he repeats. Athena exchanges glances with her friend before focusing on Martín again.

"I repeat, I am not expecting a welcome from my fiancé, I don't even remember his name," she answers determinedly. "I appreciate your kindness; my men will take care of our luggage."

"As you wish."

From the plane, Athena's bodyguards descend, each carrying a suitcase, others carrying both of their bags. Finally, a woman of a similar age to Martín, Athena's personal maid, gets off.

They all get into different cars that, after a few minutes, set off. Athena feels a little anxious about this drastic change in her life with marriage. Although she didn't object, considering it a family and political benefit, she needed to explore new paths without worrying about eventually returning to the same place.

She only has one thing clear: she doesn't intend to get entangled with whoever her husband is going to be. She will fulfill her duty, which is obviously outside of that man's bed, and then, once the necessary time has passed, she will return to her old path.

"We have arrived, ladies," the driver announces, parking in front of a mansion. Although a bit old-fashioned for the taste of the Russians, it doesn't lose its elegant and classy touch.

"Wow," Layla gets out of the car, looking over the place. "It's better than I imagined, isn't it, Ate?"

"Yes," she answers simply. "I'm tired, I urgently need a bed or I'll die."

"Your room has already been prepared, Miss Athena," Martín informs, but then looks apologetically at Layla. "As for you... well, we didn't know there would be another guest."

"Oh, no, it's fine. Don't worry about me; I'm staying at a friend's house." She gestures, shaking her head, receiving a withering look from her friend.

"A friend's house. Do you mean you came for him and not for me?" Athena questions, crossing her arms.

"Come on, Ate, you know it's for you, but I had to figure out a place to stay."

"I'll pretend I believe you this time."

Both walk down the long path surrounded by flowers, followed by the men carrying their luggage. The main garden is quite large, with a huge fountain and large pine trees decorating the surroundings. Athena's gaze fixes on the main door when it opens, and she stops in front of a brunette woman with brown eyes with the air of a lady of the house.

Layla raised an eyebrow at the sight of her, recognizing from her arrogant face that they were not welcome. In contrast, Athena's reaction was neutral, with her face showing no expression and her sunglasses still covering her eyes.

"Welcome," the brunette says with a sweet smile. "I'm Lirio."

"Lirio?" Athena pronounces with her Russian accent. "Are you some kind of maid? If so, could you help me with a chamomile tea? My head feels like it's going to explode."

"Athena," her friend gives her a discreet nudge.

"I am not an employee of this mansion," she replies, clenching her jaw a little at the unintentional disrespect. "I'm Lirio Moretti, Valentino's woman."

Everyone was dumbfounded at such a bold statement from the brunette. Layla had a face that said, "What did this crazy woman just say?" while the subordinates present whispered things to each other.

The first humiliation for Athena, who had just arrived as Valentino's fiancée? Maybe that's what everyone thought at that moment.

On the other hand, Athena takes several steps forward, making her thin heels resonate like a true elegant lady. She stands face to face with the woman, who is not fazed at all and lowers her chin with dignity.

"You say you're my fiancé's woman?" She takes off her sunglasses, a gentle smile appearing on her lips. "Nice to meet you, I'm Athena Volkova, your man's future wife. Sorry... our man."

Instead of extending her hand for a handshake, Athena simply stands tall, caressing her fine sunglasses between her fingers, observing Lirio's not-so-pleasant reaction.

A smile, absent throughout the trip, returns to her face upon encountering such a surprise. Her future husband's mistress.

"Oh, and forgive me, what was my fiancé's name again?" she asks with an innocent look. "You see, I didn't even have time to remember his name. The trip was a little too warm."

"Valentino Rizzo," the brunette replies with a forced, slight smile. "That's his name. And I apologize on his behalf; he asked me to attend to you in his place; he didn't have time either."

"Oh, is that so?" She looks her up and down. "Are you from a noble family?"

"Pardon me?"

"Because you don't look like it, and besides, instead of being his woman, you look like his secretary. I don't think it's fair to you, I guess my future husband is very inconsiderate," she mutters, getting a little closer to her. "I'm sorry you have to do this, I understand that you might feel sad because I'll be his new woman, but guess what? I like to share."

"Miss Volkova, I'm sorry for this inconvenience," Martín hurries to intervene a little nervously. "Miss Lirio is..."

"Yes, yes, she already said it," she cuts him off. "My fiancé's woman, she made it clear. But tell me, does she live here too?"

"Uh..."

"That's right," Lirio answers firmly. "Valentino has allowed me to live here as his girlfriend, so..."

"That's all I wanted to know." She raises a hand to silence her. "Please, Martín, convey this message to my fiancé wherever he is. Either this woman leaves this mansion, or the contract is canceled. I can allow him to have all the mistresses he wants, but lowering my social circle by having her under the same roof as me, that's something I will not tolerate. So please, let him know."

"What did you say?" Lirio reacts, disconcerted. "Who do you think you are? You just got here and you want to give orders that don't belong to you."

"My dear," she turns to her with a sweet smile. "Please get a grip. I will now be the lady of this house, and you will only be a side note. I will be his wife, and if it bothers you so much, I'll cancel the contract and you'll see how you manage to save your poor man's factory. What do you think? I have no problem with that."

"Please, Miss Athena," Martín intervenes again. "This is just a misunderstanding, let's calm down. The master will surely be here at any moment."

"I am calm, Martín," she sighs, irritated by the situation. "I just want things to be clear here. I don't like it when people show their claws if they can't handle a bite."

"Uh... friend," Layla hooks her arm, guiding her a little away from those present. "Why don't we get to know your room and talk about this for a while? We need an urgent chat."

"The rooms are this way," one of the maids indicates. "Please, follow me."

"Of course," Layla nods, walking with Athena, who winks at Lirio before going up the stairs, following the maid.

Lirio clenched her fists, to the point that her nails dug into her skin. She had come to receive Valentino's fiancée, following his instructions, as he wanted to make it clear to his future wife that he already had another woman.

But the plans did not turn out as they expected. First of all, Athena didn't show disgust at such a fact, but was simply annoyed at the idea of having to share a roof with the mistress, being herself a respected lady who shouldn't be humiliated like that. What would others say? That's what really mattered.

Although Athena cared little about what others would say, since, back in Russia, she did and undid as she pleased. But reaching the limit of sharing a roof with a mistress who pretended to be the lady of the house was another matter that she would not tolerate.