Chapter 2 The Contract

Chapter Two: The Contract (Humanized Rewrite)

Aria didn't sleep.

She sat alone in the guest bedroom-not the master suite, not the bed she was supposed to share with her husband-and stared at the marble wall until her eyes burned and her spine ached from how still she'd been.

Husband.

The word made bile rise in her throat.

It should've been Dante.

Dante, with his easy laugh and soft hands. Dante, who brought her flowers and called her angel in front of her father. Dante, who made her feel like maybe-just maybe-she could survive in this world of glass and contracts.

But no.

Now she belonged to Luca.

The shadow at every Alari function.

The one her mother never let her speak to. The one with the wolf's eyes and a voice made for commands, not conversation. The one who had said, without blinking: You're mine now.

She curled her legs beneath her. Still in her wedding dress. Still trapped in a lie so cruel it didn't even feel real yet.

You were promised to the Alari family. He just changed the name on the contract.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she must've dozed off for an hour-or two, tops-because when she opened her eyes, the sky outside had turned to a watery gray.

She stood.

Her feet were bare and freezing on the marble as she crossed the hall, the lace of her gown dragging behind her like a ghost. The estate was silent, heavy, like the house knew what had happened and didn't care.

She found him in the dining room.

Already dressed.

Crisp white shirt. Sleeves rolled up, collar open, like the night hadn't touched him at all. Like he hadn't destroyed her life eight hours ago.

He didn't even look surprised to see her.

"Sleep well, wife?" he asked, not bothering to look up from his espresso.

Aria slammed her hands onto the table. Her palms stung.

"Change it back."

Luca raised a brow. Took another sip. Calm as hell. "You'll need to be more specific."

"The contract." Her voice trembled with fury. "Give me back to Dante."

He set the cup down gently. It made a soft click on the saucer that echoed far too loudly.

"You think this is a fairy tale?" he asked. "That you can stomp your feet and pout your way out of a legal transaction?"

"My father had no right-"

"He had every right." Luca's tone turned to steel. "You were his last chip. And he played it."

She stared at him, numbness giving way to rage. "You're disgusting. You knew I thought I was marrying Dante-"

"I knew," he said, standing slowly.

He came around the table. Not rushed. Not threatening.

Just inevitable.

"And I let you walk to the altar anyway."

Her throat dried. "Why?"

He didn't answer.

Just kept walking.

Until her back hit the wall.

His hands planted beside her head, bracketing her in, and the air turned thick enough to choke on.

"Because I've wanted you," he said, voice a low rasp, "for years."

She flinched. Her fists curled at her sides.

"No," she whispered.

"Yes," he murmured.

One hand traced her jaw. Down to her collarbone. Lower still.

She slapped it away.

"I hate you."

He didn't flinch. Just leaned in until his mouth hovered a breath above hers.

"Then show me."

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet.

It was war.

His mouth crushed hers, hard and hungry, and she shattered under it.

She should've pushed him off. Screamed. Fought.

Instead, she gasped-and he devoured it.

His tongue slid into her mouth like he owned the right. Like he'd been starving for this. For her. Her body trembled, rage and want tangling in her gut.

She hit his chest. Once. Twice.

Then her hands fisted in his shirt like her body had stopped listening.

He tasted like scotch and sin. He kissed like he wanted to ruin her.

And God help her, part of her wanted to be ruined.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her breath ragged.

He stared at her. Eyes dark. Hungry. Too calm.

"Don't lie to yourself, Aria," he said quietly. "You don't hate me."

And then he turned and walked away, leaving her shaking against the wall, furious and breathless and more confused than she'd ever been in her life.