Chapter 4 Terms of War

The air in the office of Luca De Luca was a vacuum that aimed at strangling anyone who wasn't in control.

I was standing right at the entrance, my heart pounding furiously in my chest like a jackhammer. I had chosen to wear all-white a stark contrast to the black widow he expected. I wore armor under my silk dress.

Luca didn't even bother to lift his gaze from his paperwork. He continued scribbling, "You have precisely two minutes, Miss Veritas, before security hauls you out of here by your hair."

I remained perfectly still. I walked across the dark floor of the room, my footsteps sounding like gunfire. I did not sit on the chair on the other side of his table; rather, I placed a piece of paper right above the one he was signing.

He paused.

Lucas raised his head slowly. His eyes were icy blue and looked like the frozen sea; they were beautiful but deadly. He scanned me, looking for the sorrow he had planted in my life.

Luca lifted his head slowly, horrifyingly. His eyes were the color of icebergs vast, beautiful, and utterly deadly. They followed the line of my jaw, seeking the sorrow he himself had fabricated. I could give him nothing but the coldest gaze.

"Term sheet," Luca rumbled, in that soft, dark, velvety voice of his. No, he did not even lay a hand on the document. "Arya, your empire bleeds, and yet you come to me with a term sheet?"

"I come to you with a surrender, and terms," I lied. The lie felt like poison on my tongue. "With conditions."

He lounged back in his chair, his hands steepled together, elbows resting on the chair's armrests. He looked like a monarch who was considering an especially amusing subject from his court. "Conditions? I don't make concessions, Arya. I take what I want."

"And you want the Veritas shipping lanes, the coastal ports?" I answered him, in the same dull tone. "A hostile takeover bid? You'll be tied up in courts for ten years. And by the time you win, your prize won't be worth a thing."

The muscle in his defined jaw tightened in response. He knew that I was right.

"Read it," I dared.

Luca took hold of the paper, letting his eyes move down its length. For just a moment, the mask broke. Shock flashed in his gaze before a predatory grin took its place.

"A marriage. You're putting yourself on the market to secure your family's reputation?"

I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands until my skin bled. I'm getting close enough to locate the weapon he killed my father with.

"A contract of twenty-four months. Complete asset integration. I'll be your wife, and you'll receive control of the ports immediately, no litigation involved. As a part of the deal, the Veritas name will continue to exist under law and I maintain my place on the subsidiary board."

"A business transaction."

"A purely professional one."

Luca stood up from behind his desk. It was intimidating how large he was. He stepped away from the desk, walking until there was no space left between us, until the scent of his cologne invaded all of my senses. My feet stayed planted on the floor.

He froze mere inches from my face, invading my personal space.

He stared down at me, looking away from my eyes and then back into them after landing on my lips.

"You hate me," he murmured.

"I don't hate or care about you at all," I responded.

He moved closer, so close that my neck was tickled by the warmth of his breath.

Luca smirks. "Watch yourself, Arya.

"You will regret this."