Marrying The Man Who Hates Me

The rain drizzled lightly over the city, creating a soft patter against the windows of a small café tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. The place was nothing grand-just a modest coffee shop with wooden tables, the scent of roasted beans lingering in the air, and a handful of regulars who barely glanced at newcomers. It was exactly the kind of place where no one would think to find him.

Leandro Castellano sat at a corner table, his gnarled fingers wrapped around a cup of black coffee. To anyone who spared him a glance, he was just another elderly man-gray hair, weathered skin, slightly hunched posture. His clothes were plain, his demeanor unassuming. There was nothing about him that screamed billionaire. And that was exactly the point.

For years, Leandro had been a name whispered in boardrooms and exclusive parties, feared and respected in equal measure. A man of power, of ruthless ambition. But power came at a cost-one he was no longer willing to pay. Every woman who entered his life did so with a purpose, and it was never love. They wanted his wealth, his name, the security that came with being attached to a Castellano. It sickened him.

So he had disappeared. Not in the way the world would have expected-no dramatic scandals, no public goodbyes. Instead, he had stripped away everything that made him him and had rebuilt himself into Enzo Valente, a simple, aging man with nothing to his name. No one knew the truth except for one person: his assistant, Matteo, the only man he trusted enough to carry out his affairs while he played this ridiculous, necessary game.

He wasn't sure what he was looking for-perhaps a sign that there was still something real in the world. That not everyone could be bought with power and money. But after months of living in obscurity, he had found nothing but disappointment.

Until tonight.

Leandro's eyes flickered toward the entrance as a woman stumbled inside, drenched from the rain. She was young, perhaps in her mid-twenties, her dark curls clinging to her skin, her simple dress soaked through. There was an air of desperation about her, the kind that came from someone with nowhere else to go.

She hesitated at the door, her gaze scanning the café as if searching for someone. When her eyes landed on him, she stiffened. He didn't know her-he was certain of that. And yet, there was something in her expression, a flicker of recognition, as if she did know him.

She approached cautiously, her hands trembling slightly. "Are you Enzo Valente?"

Leandro leaned back, feigning mild surprise. "That depends," he said, his voice roughened with the weight of his disguise. "Who's asking?"

The woman swallowed hard, her dark eyes filled with something he couldn't quite place-fear, urgency, maybe even regret.

"My name is Seraphina Duarte," she said softly. "And I need to marry you."

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."

Seraphina exhaled shakily, as if she had been holding her breath, waiting for him to refuse. For a moment, the flickering café light above them cast deep shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the tension in her jaw.

Leandro watched her carefully. She was young-far too young to be sitting in front of an old man, asking for a marriage that should never have been an option. But desperation had a way of forcing people's hands, stripping them of dignity, of choices. He had seen it before.

"Start from the beginning," he said, his voice low but firm.

Seraphina straightened slightly, as if bracing herself. Her fingers clenched together in her lap, and for the first time, Leandro noticed the bruises on her wrist-faint, but there. He frowned but said nothing, waiting.

"My father," she began, her voice steady despite the storm in her eyes, "was once a respectable businessman. He owned a shipping company-small, but profitable. Until two years ago, when he made the mistake of trusting the wrong people." She swallowed hard. "He borrowed money. A lot of it. And when he couldn't pay it back... they came for us."

Leandro's fingers drummed against the table. "Who?"

She hesitated. "Riccardo Esposito."

His grip stilled. He knew that name. Everyone in the underworld did. Riccardo Esposito was not just a man who loaned money-he was a wolf who sank his teeth into the desperate and never let go. If her father owed Esposito, then there was only one way this story would end.

"And now the debt falls on you," he murmured.

Seraphina nodded. "My father... he's sick. He barely leaves his bed anymore. My mother... she's too afraid to leave the house. So that leaves me."

Leandro's jaw tightened. He had seen men like her father before-weak men who made mistakes and let their families suffer for them.

"They threatened you?" he asked.

She let out a bitter laugh. "Threatened? No. That would imply they left room for negotiation." She lifted the sleeve of her dress slightly, revealing the faint outline of a bruise on her forearm. "They don't threaten. They remind."

Leandro exhaled slowly, his fingers curling against the edge of the table.

She dropped her sleeve and met his gaze. "I have no money. No way out. But I know one thing about men like Esposito-they don't touch another man's wife. If I belong to someone else, I become off-limits."

Leandro studied her for a long moment. She wasn't wrong. A married woman, especially one under the protection of another man, was more trouble than she was worth to someone like Esposito.

But still, she was asking for something dangerous.

"You would marry a stranger," he said slowly, "without knowing a thing about him?"

Her lips parted slightly, as if she hadn't considered that angle. But then, she squared her shoulders. "I don't need to know you," she said. "I just need you to say yes."

A small smile played at the corner of his lips. Bold.

He should refuse. This wasn't his problem. He had built this life in the shadows to escape the world of power and money, not to involve himself in someone else's battle.

But then, a thought struck him.

She had no idea who he was. No idea that the 'old man' she was speaking to was actually one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the country. That she was unknowingly offering herself to someone far more dangerous than Esposito could ever be.

And for the first time in a long time, Leandro found himself intrigued.

"I'll marry you," he said, watching her eyes widen slightly in surprise. "But under one condition."

Seraphina's hands curled into fists. "What condition?"

"You will become my wife in every sense of the word," he murmured, his voice smooth despite the aged rasp he had adopted. "Not just on paper."

A flicker of hesitation crossed her face.

Leandro leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "You need protection, cara mia. And if we are to fool men like Esposito, then this cannot be a mere arrangement. It must be real. You must play the part."

Seraphina swallowed. "What exactly are you asking?"

Leandro tilted his head. "You will live with me. You will be my wife in the eyes of the world. And until the day this arrangement ends, you will belong to me."

For the first time that night, true uncertainty flickered in her expression.

Leandro waited, watching her war with herself. This was her final chance to walk away, to refuse.

But instead, she exhaled and nodded.

"Fine," she said quietly. "I accept."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Leandro's lips.

So be it.