Chapter 2 A Proposal in the Dark

For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick and unyielding. The soft hum of conversation in the café faded into the background, drowned out by the weight of her words.

Leandro, still hidden behind the mask of Enzo Valente, studied the woman before him. Seraphina Duarte. The name meant nothing to him, yet there was something undeniably familiar about the desperate gleam in her eyes. He had seen that look before-in people who had nothing left to lose.

He exhaled slowly, setting his coffee cup down with deliberate ease. "You need to marry me?" he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. "That's quite the introduction."

Seraphina flinched slightly, as if realizing how absurd her words sounded. She looked around, wary of the other patrons, then pulled out the wooden chair across from him and sat down. She leaned in, lowering her voice. "I don't have time for pleasantries, signore Valente. I need your help. A marriage-temporary, nothing more. I'll be gone before you even realize I was there."

Leandro arched a graying brow, amused despite himself. "Marriage isn't a favor one asks of a stranger, cara mia." He let his voice rasp slightly, deepening the illusion of age. "Tell me, what has driven you to such desperation?"

Seraphina's hands clenched in her lap. Her jaw tightened, and for a second, he thought she might refuse to answer. But then, she let out a slow, measured breath. "My family is in debt," she admitted. "A debt we cannot pay. The man we owe doesn't take kindly to waiting."

Leandro said nothing. He had dealt with such men before-the ones who thrived on desperation, who enjoyed watching others squirm beneath the weight of their misfortunes. If she had come to him-or at least, to the man she thought he was-then she must have already exhausted all her options.

He tilted his head. "And you believe that marrying an old man will solve your problems?"

Seraphina's gaze flickered with something unreadable. "Not just any old man," she murmured. "You."

Interesting.

Leandro ran a hand over his false, graying beard, pretending to consider her words. He had played this game for months, searching for sincerity in a world that had long since lost its purity. And here, in this rain-drenched café, a woman had walked in and offered him exactly what he had not expected-an arrangement, free of pretense.

No declarations of love. No flowery promises. Just a deal.

"And what do I gain from this marriage?" he asked, his voice deceptively light.

Seraphina's expression didn't waver. "A wife who asks for nothing," she said plainly. "No money, no power. I don't want your wealth. I just need your name, your protection-for a short time. After that, I'll be gone."

Leandro leaned back, tapping his fingers against the worn wooden table. If only she knew the irony of her words. That the old man she sought had no wealth, no power-at least, not in the way she imagined.

And yet, he found himself intrigued.

He should have walked away. He should have sent her off into the night, let her find another solution to her problems. But something about her-the fire in her eyes, the way she held herself despite her obvious fear-made him pause.

Perhaps this was fate.

Perhaps this was exactly the moment he had been waiting for.

He reached for his coffee, taking a slow sip before speaking again. "Very well," he said at last. "Tell me everything."