Chapter 2 The agreement

The hotel lobby smelled of polished marble and expensive cologne-clean, cold, and untouched. Aria stepped in, clutching the hem of her sweater as if it could shield her from the weight of everything she wasn't saying. The receptionist greeted her with a trained smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Reservation?" the woman asked.

Aria shook her head. "Just... one night."

A pause, then the clack of fingers across a keyboard. "Standard queen, city view. ID and payment?"

She handed over the folded bills her mother had pressed into her hand. They felt heavy now, like they'd absorbed every ounce of rejection from the morning. The woman processed the payment, handed her a keycard, and pointed toward the elevators.

As Aria rode up, her reflection in the elevator doors stared back-tired eyes, wind-ruffled hair, and a blank expression that didn't belong to anyone who mattered. She swallowed hard.

The room was too nice for how she felt. Pristine bedding, floor-to-ceiling windows, and soft jazz humming from unseen speakers. She dropped her bag on the chair and collapsed onto the bed, letting the silence press in around her like a blanket.

No one called.

No one checked in.

By the next afternoon, Aria sat in the hotel café nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. She'd spent the morning pacing the room, trying not to scroll through social media, trying not to wonder what Bella was doing. Probably shopping again. Probably posting pictures of avocado toast and designer handbags while the world adored her.

Aria didn't belong in that world.

She never had.

The bell over the café door chimed. She didn't look up at first, but the shift in atmosphere made her glance over. Two men entered-both in sharp suits, clean lines, and quiet command. But it was the one in the center who pulled focus.

Tall. Dark hair swept back. Eyes like a winter storm-cold, unreadable, and far too calculating for someone so young. He wasn't handsome in the way Bella liked to label boys. He was intimidating, precise, powerful.

He didn't notice her.

Of course he didn't.

He sat down at a table near the window, flanked by his guards or associates or whatever they were. One of them leaned in, murmured something. The man-who Aria would later learn was Matteo Ricci, billionaire CEO of the Ricci Corporation-nodded, then glanced out the window with the disinterest of someone who owned everything worth seeing.

Aria dropped her gaze and stood, abandoning her half-finished drink. The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself in front of people who lived in a world she'd never even touch.

Later that evening, Aria called home.

Her mother answered.

"Aria," she said, not unkindly, but not warmly either. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Aria replied, though the ache in her chest said otherwise. "Just wanted to check in."

There was a pause.

"Bella's doing better," her mother said. "She needed space."

"Of course."

"She asked if you were still upset."

Aria blinked. "She did?"

"Well, not in so many words. But you know how she is-sensitive underneath all that confidence."

Aria didn't answer. There was nothing to say.

Her mother sighed. "Don't take it personally, sweetheart. Bella's always had a bit more... presence. You're just different."

"I know," Aria said quietly.

"Come home in a few days. Let things settle."

"Sure."

She hung up and stared at the ceiling, the silence louder than ever.

Meanwhile, across the city, Matteo Ricci sat in his penthouse office, watching the city lights blink below like dying stars. His phone buzzed beside him, and he picked it up without looking.

"It's done," his assistant said. "They're on the brink. Vescari's company is bleeding money."

"Good," Matteo replied. "That'll make negotiations easier."

"You're really going through with it? The marriage?"

His eyes narrowed. "My parents are circling like vultures. They want a wedding. They want stability. I'll give them what they want. But on my terms."

"You really want her? The older one?"

"I don't want anyone," Matteo said coolly. "But if I have to play this game, I'll marry the quiet one."

"Bella's more-"

"Predictable," Matteo interrupted. "She'd be a liability. Aria, on the other hand, won't get in the way."

There was a pause.

"I'll set the meeting."

Matteo leaned back in his chair, letting the city disappear behind the glass. He didn't want a wife. He didn't believe in love. But if marriage was the price of peace, he would choose the one who didn't smile too easily. The one who wasn't looking to be chosen.

Three days passed before Aria returned home.

The house was the same, but something felt different. Bella wasn't in sight, and her mother gave her a brief hug, then turned to stir a pot on the stove.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Sure," Aria said.

"You should rest. Big dinner tonight. Your father has... guests."

Guests?

Aria didn't ask. She climbed the stairs, unpacked her small bag, and tried not to feel like a stranger in her own room.

That night, the dining room was dressed in candles and fine linens. Aria sat at the far end of the table, quiet as ever. Bella swept in wearing red-always red-and smiled at the man sitting beside their father.

Matteo Ricci.

Aria stiffened.

Their father stood to toast. "A new chapter for our family. A promising future."

Aria's heart pounded. She barely heard the rest. Matteo's eyes skimmed the room like he was scanning merchandise. When they met hers, he didn't blink.

She looked away.

After dinner, Bella leaned close to her with a whisper. "He's mine, Aria. Don't get any ideas."

Aria blinked. "What?"

Bella smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You always think being quiet makes you mysterious. It doesn't. It makes you invisible."

Aria opened her mouth, but no words came.

And that was when Matteo spoke.

"I'd like a word with Miss Aria."

Everyone went still. Even Bella.

Their father cleared his throat. "Of course."

Aria stood slowly, every step feeling like it echoed too loud. Matteo gestured toward the glass doors leading to the back terrace.

When they were alone, he turned.

"You know who I am."

"Yes," she said carefully.

"I don't want a wife," he said flatly. "But I'm going to marry you."

Her breath caught.

"I'm not offering romance," he continued. "This is business. Say yes, and your family survives. Say no..."

His silence was heavier than a threat.

Aria stared at him. "Why me?"

"Because you don't beg to be seen. That makes you dangerous. And I prefer dangerous over desperate."

She didn't answer.

Yet.