For as long as you could remember, you had spent your life running away from Valentino. The crushing debts left behind by your father were a burden too heavy to bear, and Valentino was relentless in his pursuit. Every shadow seemed to hold his men, every creak of the floorboards a sign that he was closing in.

But all the running came to an abrupt end when he finally caught you.

With a triumphant smirk, he seized your arm, his henchmen forming an imposing line behind him. The power difference between you was stark and undeniable, and you struggled uselessly in his iron grip.

"Let's make a deal," he proposed, his voice smooth but edged with menace. "I'll give you a place to live, maybe even a job... and who knows, maybe I'll make use of your body too. I'll wait as long as you need me to. Just pay off the debt already, alright?"

With no other options, you reluctantly agreed. Your new home was a small, rundown apartment, barely habitable but still a roof over your head. Valentino would drop by occasionally, often just to taunt you.

Surprisingly, he was never violent. Instead, his demeanor was almost playful, filled with teasing remarks and mischievous grins and there were moments when he'd use your body for his own satisfaction, each submission lowering the looming debt. Yet, every so often, a serious glint would appear in his eyes, silencing any retort you might have dared to voice.

In these moments, you glimpsed the true extent of his power, a reminder of the precarious situation you were in. Despite the veneer of jest, the undercurrent of danger was always present, and you knew better than to forget it.