Chapter 2 Second

He walked to the bar, poured a glass of whiskey, and sipped. "You'll travel with me. Meetings. Appearances. Dinners. We're rebuilding a public image."

"I didn't agree to that."

"You agreed to thirty days as my wife."

"Not your puppet."

Luka turned, slowly. "You want your promotion. You want your freedom. Then you'll do what's needed."

Amara clenched her fists. "You always were good at dressing up as a choice."

He smiled faintly. "And you were always good at pretending you didn't like being protected."

"I didn't need protection. I needed a partner."

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Regret? Pain? She couldn't tell.

He looked away.

"You'll need a dress for tomorrow night," he said. "Ilari's CEO is hosting a private dinner."

"I'll wear what I have."

"No," he said. "You'll wear what I choose."

Amara's temper flared. "You don't own me."

Luka stepped closer. "Legally, I do."

The words hung between them like a slap.

Amara turned away before he could see the heat in her eyes-not anger, not sadness-something worse. Something dangerous.

---

The next day, Luka's driver picked her up.

They drove in silence until she saw the sign: Benson's Boutique.

Luxury. Exclusive. The kind of place you don't even enter without an appointment.

She started to protest, but inside, the staff greeted her like royalty.

"This way, Mrs. Daniels," the woman said, smiling.

Mrs. Daniels.

Amara felt sick. But the dresses were beautiful. She picked the plainest one-sleek black, high neckline.

She didn't want to give Luka the satisfaction.

When she returned to the penthouse, the dinner table was set for two.

Luka was already seated, scrolling through documents.

He looked up. Paused. Then stood slowly.

"You always did look good in black," he said.

She ignored him and sat.

He passed her a glass of wine. "Toast?"

"I'd rather not."

"Still stubborn."

"Still arrogant."

They ate in silence. Then, Luka finally asked, "Do you trust your boyfriend?"

Amara stiffened. "Jason? Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't play games."

"No games," Luka said. "Just facts."

He slid a small folder across the table.

Inside were photos. Screenshots. Documents. Bank transfers.

Jason. In Luka's office. Months ago.

Amara's blood ran cold.

"He was hired to monitor you. He gave updates. Weekly."

"You're lying."

"He stopped reporting when he fell for you. That's when I had him pulled. Quietly."

She stared at the papers, heart hammering. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Because the people closest to you lie," he said. "Except me. I never lied. I just didn't say everything."

Amara stood, trembling. "I hate you."

Luka stood too. "No, you hate that you still feel something."

She slapped him.

He didn't flinch.

She turned, walked toward the guest room-and stopped.

The door was open.

Inside, everything was already set up.

Her books. Her perfume. Even her old scarf.

He'd been preparing for this.

He had never planned to let her go.

------

Amara stood frozen in the doorway of the guest room.

Her books were neatly stacked. Her framed photo of Miriam from law school sat beside the bed. A candle she hadn't used in years-the one she always lit when she was stressed-rested on the nightstand.

This wasn't a guest room.

It was her room.

Memories she'd buried clawed their way to the surface.

She spun around. "You planned this. You've been watching me."

Luka leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I didn't stop caring."

"You don't care. You control. You collect."

"That room's been untouched since you left," he said calmly. "I had it cleaned. That's all."

"Where did you even find these things?"

"I never threw them out."

That hit harder than it should have.

She stepped inside, her hands shaking as she touched the scarf. "Why do this?"

He looked at her. "Because I wanted to remind you what it felt like... to be wanted."

She stared at him. "You don't want me. You want ownership."

Luka stepped forward slowly. "I could've ruined you five years ago. But I didn't. I could've exposed your family's debt. I paid it quietly. I could've dragged you into court. But I let you walk away."

She blinked. "You paid my family's debt?"

"You were drowning, Amara. And I never let you drown."

"You let me leave thinking you hated me. Thinking I was nothing to you."

His jaw tightened. "Because if I didn't, I would've begged you to stay."

The silence between them was thick.

She turned her back on him, afraid of what might show in her face.

He spoke again, softer this time. "Tomorrow, we fly to Milan for the merger. You'll wear the red dress I had delivered this evening. It's in the closet."

She didn't respond.

"I'll see you at 8 a.m. sharp."

She didn't turn around as he left.

---

Later that night, Amara lay awake.

The room was too familiar. Too quiet.

She picked up her phone and dialed Jason.

He answered immediately. "Amara?"

"I saw the files."

Silence.

"So it's true," she whispered. "You were spying on me."

"I didn't mean to fall in love with you."

She closed her eyes. "That doesn't make it better."

"I was desperate. He offered me money. I took it before I even met you. But then... I stayed for the wrong reasons and the right ones. I'm sorry."

"I don't even know who I am to you anymore."

"You're the only person who ever made me feel like I could be more."

She ended the call without replying.

She sat in the dark for a long time.

Then finally, she opened the closet.

And saw the red dress.

Beautiful. Bold. Daring.

Just like she used to be-before Luka's world swallowed her.

---

The next morning, at exactly 8:00 a.m., Amara stepped into the living room in the red dress.

Luka stood by the window, phone in hand, giving orders in Italian.

When he saw her, his voice faltered.

Then he ended the call and stared.

"You kept it," he said quietly.

She frowned. "Kept what?"

"That dress. You wore it on our third anniversary. I had it recreated."

Amara didn't respond.

"Ready to fly?"

She nodded stiffly.

As they left for the private jet, she told herself one thing:

Survive the thirty days. Don't fall. Don't feel. Don't forget what he did.

But something in Luka's eyes made her question which one of them was really in control anymore