Chapter 3 The Marriage Contract

I didn't sleep.

Not really.

I lay in the massive bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the unfamiliar silence of a place too big, too expensive, too controlled to ever feel human.

Every small sound made my heart jump.

Footsteps in the hall.

Doors closing somewhere far away.

Voices too low to understand.

This place never truly slept.

And neither did the man who owned it.

Morning came slowly, gray light filtering through the tall curtains. For a moment, I forgot where I was.

Then I sat up.

And remembered everything.

The alley.

The blood.

His voice saying I'm going to marry you.

My stomach twisted violently.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

I froze.

"Miss Elena?" a female voice called gently. "May I come in?"

I swallowed. "Yes."

The same maid from last night stepped inside carrying a tray. Coffee. Toast. Eggs. Fruit.

Normal breakfast.

In a completely abnormal life.

"Sir asked that you eat," she said carefully, setting it down.

"Where is he?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Her eyes flickered slightly. "In his office."

My pulse quickened.

Of course he was.

Running an empire while I sat here trying not to fall apart.

"Sir also said," she continued, "that once you finish, you are to come downstairs."

A cold knot formed in my chest.

"For what?"

She hesitated.

Then said quietly-

"To discuss the contract."

The word hit like ice water.

Contract.

Marriage wasn't even being pretended as something else.

It was paperwork.

Ownership in legal form.

My appetite vanished instantly.

But I forced myself to eat something. I needed strength. I didn't know why, but I knew I would.

After she left, I showered quickly, letting hot water pound against my skin like it could wash away the last 12 hours.

It didn't.

Nothing could.

Fresh clothes had been laid out - simple but expensive. Soft black pants. Cream blouse. Shoes that probably cost more than my rent.

Even dressed like this, I still felt like I was wearing someone else's life.

I stepped into the hallway.

Two guards stood there.

Waiting.

Of course.

"This way," one said.

I followed them downstairs, each step heavier than the last.

The house was brighter during the day, but it didn't make it less intimidating. Sunlight streamed through massive windows, reflecting off marble floors and glass surfaces.

Cold beauty.

Controlled perfection.

They led me to a large set of double doors.

One guard knocked once.

A deep voice from inside said, "Enter."

My heart slammed painfully.

The doors opened.

His office was massive - dark wood shelves filled with books, a large desk, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the grounds.

And him.

Standing near the window, phone pressed to his ear, speaking in low, sharp Italian.

His voice changed when he spoke that language. Harder. More dangerous.

He turned slightly when I entered, eyes immediately locking onto me.

Heat rushed through my chest - unwanted. Confusing. Terrifying.

He said a final sentence into the phone and hung up.

Silence filled the room.

Then he gestured toward a chair in front of his desk.

"Sit."

I stayed standing.

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

"I'd rather stand," I said.

Something like amusement flickered in his eyes.

"Fine."

He walked to his desk and picked up a thin black folder.

"This," he said calmly, "is the contract."

My hands curled into fists.

"I'm not signing anything."

"You will."

"No."

His gaze sharpened.

"Elena."

"No," I repeated, louder. "You don't get to kidnap me and then hand me paperwork like this is normal!"

The air in the room shifted.

Dangerous.

But he didn't yell.

Didn't threaten.

He just opened the folder and slid it across the desk toward me.

"Read it."

I didn't move.

"Read it," he repeated, softer this time. More dangerous.

Slowly, I stepped forward.

Opened it.

The first page made my stomach drop.

Marriage agreement.

Protection clause.

Financial binding.

Residence requirements.

Security restrictions.

I flipped pages faster.

And then-

My breath caught.

"What... is this?" I whispered.

A section labeled: Family Lineage Verification

I looked up at him.

His face was completely unreadable.

"Why is my family history in here?"

"Because," he said quietly, "you are not random."

Ice slid through my veins.

"I am," I said. "I'm nobody."

"No," he said. "You are Elena Rossi. Granddaughter of Marco Rossi."

The name hit me like a physical blow.

My grandfather.

Dead for ten years.

"What does that have to do with you?" I whispered.

His jaw tightened slightly.

"Your grandfather," he said slowly, "once saved my father's life."

My mind spun.

"What?"

"There was a war. Before you were born. My family would not exist without him."

I shook my head. "That doesn't mean you get to-"

"He made a deal."

The words landed like stones.

My chest tightened. "What deal?"

His eyes held mine.

"If anything ever happened to your family line... we protect it."

Silence.

Loud. Crushing silence.

"My parents died in an accident," I whispered.

"Yes."

My knees nearly buckled.

"You've been watching me?" I asked, voice shaking.

"For years."

Horror flooded me.

"That's insane."

"That's loyalty."

Tears blurred my vision.

"So this marriage... it's just a debt?"

His expression changed slightly.

Something darker.

"No," he said quietly. "It started as one."

My pulse stuttered.

"Started?"

He stepped closer, slowly, like approaching something fragile.

"Last night," he said, "I could have ended the problem."

My breath hitched.

"But I didn't."

His hand came up, brushing lightly against a strand of my hair.

"And I am not a man who ignores instinct."

My heart pounded painfully.

"This contract," he said softly, "makes you untouchable. Legally. Financially. Physically."

"And emotionally?" I whispered before I could stop myself.

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes.

"That," he said, "is not in the contract."

Silence stretched between us.

Heavy. Charged. Terrifying.

"You have until tonight," he said finally.

"To do what?"

"To decide."

My stomach twisted. "And if I don't sign?"

His voice dropped lower.

"Then I protect you anyway," he said. "But you lose the power of my name."

I swallowed hard.

"And you don't want that," he added quietly.

Because without it...

I would be prey.

To people I didn't even know existed.

I looked down at the contract again.

Then back at him.

"You're asking me to give up my life," I whispered.

"No," he said.

"I'm asking you to survive."

My chest tightened painfully.

"I hate you," I whispered.

His jaw flexed.

"I know."

"Does that bother you?"

His eyes darkened.

"Yes."

The honesty shocked me.

He stepped back.

"Tonight," he repeated.

Then turned away, dismissing me without another word.

I walked out on shaking legs, contract clutched in my hands.

And as the office doors closed behind me, one terrifying thought echoed through my head-

If I signed this...

I wouldn't just be marrying a mafia king.

I would be stepping into a world where love and danger were the same thing.

And I wasn't sure which one would destroy me first.