A L Y S S A

I have never stared at myself in a mirror this long, not even on mornings when exhaustion made its home on my face, or nights when I have cried hard enough to scare myself, because this time feels different... way different...

The bathroom is small, barely wide enough to stretch my arms out, and the single yellow bulb above the mirror is enough to light up the room. As I stare at my reflection, I see every question I have not answered sitting plainly on my face, the tension in my jaw, the way my lips keep pressing together as if holding back words I am afraid to say out loud, the uncertainty in my eyes that refuses to settle, no matter how long I look.

I am dressed better than I have been in years, not glamorous or expensive, the way women like Mrs Valentino carry themselves, but still decent and intentional in a quieter way. I wear a long black dress I forgot I owned until this afternoon, it's soft fabric that falls smoothly against my body without clinging too tightly and simple enough that it does not feel like a costume. My hair frames my face neatly, washed and styled with more effort than I usually allow myself, and my makeup is light, just enough to make me look awake, functional, like someone who belongs in rooms far bigger than my apartment.

I look fine.

Inside, I feel hollow and overstretched, like I have been pulled in too many directions at once, and something is bound to tear.

As I leave the bathroom and make my way into the living room, I glance at the digital clock on the TV stand. 5:47.

Thirteen minutes.

I smooth my dress again, even though there is nothing wrong with it, then walk further into the living room, where Carmen has been pacing since the moment I came out of the bathroom, moving back and forth across the floor with restless energy, her arms folding and unfolding, her foot tapping hard enough to make the lamp tremble slightly.

Then she comes to a stop the moment she sees me, her mouth falling open as she stares me down from head to toe.

"Wow, Alyssa," she says, breathless, taking a few steps closer to me.

I lift an eyebrow, attempting humour even though my throat feels tight. "That good or that bad?"

She continues to look me up and down slowly. "That is 'a you are about to walk into a very dangerous fairy tale' kind of good."

I let out a quiet breath that almost turns into a laugh, but it fades when I realise she is not smiling.

"You sure about this?" she asks, her voice lower now, and the truth comes easily to me.

"No," I mumble.

"Then do not go." She tries to plead, her eyebrows knotted worriedly.

I shake my head, trying not to think the worst of what might happen to me tonight. "I have to."

"You do not," she insists, stepping closer, frustration flashing across her face. "You can still say no. We can figure something else out. We always do."

I look down at my hands, at the way my fingers are pressed together too tightly. "If it were just me, I would walk away. I would not hesitate. But it is not just me." I say, and it seems that's enough for her to understand.

Her expression softens, worry breaking through her anger, but she still shakes her head. "Just promise me you will be careful. Promise me you will call me every hour."

"I cannot call you every hour." I huff.

"Then every two," she says without missing a moment. "And if I do not hear from you by midnight, I am calling the police and showing up at that place myself."

A small laugh escapes me. "You would actually do that."

"I would," she replies simply, then turns toward the window and pulls back the blinds. "And right on time."

I join her, my stomach twisting the second I see the black car waiting at the curb, polished and silent, expensive and completely out of place on this street.

Carmen grabs my hand, squeezing hard. "Text me when you get there."

"I will," I say just as I pull her in for a tight hug.

"I mean it." She tells me, mumbles against my shoulder.

"So do I," I answer just before pulling away and beginning to make my way towards the door.

I do not tell her how badly my legs are shaking, or how much I want to lock the door and pretend none of this is real. I just nod, draw in a breath, and step outside before I can change my mind.

By the time I reach outside, the driver is already waiting, tall and formal in a dark suit, his expression neutral.

"Miss Hart?" he asks politely as I get closer to him.

"That's me," I answer quietly, and he nods before moving to open the door, and after a brief pause, I climb into the back seat, the interior quiet and immaculate, smelling faintly of leather and cologne.

The door closes, and locks, and the car begins pulling away from the curb.

I watch the city slide past through the window, familiar streets giving way to wider roads, streetlights thinning out, buildings replaced by hedges and gates and stretches of quiet. It feels unreal, like I am being carried farther and farther from the life I know with every passing minute.

After close to 25 minutes, we drive down a long bare road lined with rows of green hedges, and at the edge of the road, there is a set of large black gates. As we approach, they open for us, and once I look out the window, I feel my breath leave my lungs.

The driveway curves through gardens and fountains illuminated by warm lights, statues rising from greenery like silent watchers, and then... the mansion appears. It's a pure white, lit up by golden lights that glow softly as dusk settles. Massive, elegant and surreal.

The car stops at the front of the mansion, and the driver steps out to open my door. As my heels touch the stone, I look up at the place where my life is about to change.

"They are waiting for you inside, Miss Hart," the driver says, and I nod and step forward.

I guess it's finally game time...

A L Y S S A

The guards at the entrance take a curious look at me before they finally open the doors, allowing me passage. Inside, the space steals my breath, marble floors gleaming beneath towering ceilings, a sweeping staircase rising upward, light spilling from a chandelier so large it looks like it probably cost more than my entire livelihood.

Then a woman appears, beautiful in her simple yet elegant grey dress, smiling back at me with politeness.

"Miss Hart, welcome. Right this way." She says, and that's when she begins guiding me through a series of quiet hallways and into a sitting room filled with firelight and black velvet.

"You may wait here. Please have a seat." She instructs me to one of the couches, and I stare at her nervously before taking a seat and looking around the room in pure awe. Okay, I knew the Valentinos had money, but they're practically living like royalty here...

"Would you like something to drink?" She asks me softly, and I contemplate it. Maybe a drink would help me calm my nerves, but then I realise that I need a clear mind for what is to happen.

"No, thank you," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

The woman simply nods at me before turning to walk away.

As she leaves, I sit quietly, waiting patiently as I listen to the fire crackle softly, filling the silence. I remain perfectly still, afraid that if I move too much, I will betray how unprepared I feel. This is a mansion. I am here to meet the man I agreed to marry... a complete stranger. All because my mother is dying...

At any second now... I'm about to meet the man who might own me for the next two years. And all I can think is... I shouldn't be here. But it's too late for that now.

If you had told me yesterday that this was where I'd end up in the next 24 hours, I would've probably told you to jump into the river.

After what feels like forever, I finally hear footsteps approach, and I immediately stand to my feet, straightening out my dress yet again and taking in a deep breath to compose myself. Mr and Mrs Valentino enter without a word, side by side, like royalty entering a throne room. They gazes immediately lands on me, just before they share a curious glance at each other, before turning back and approaching me slowly.

"Miss Hart," Mrs Valentino says with a nod, a small smile grazing her red lips as she makes her way over to me. "Welcome. You look lovely." She says.

"Beautiful," Mr Valentino adds, his voice smoother than it has any right to be. "Our son will appreciate the effort..." They say, and they seem to be more excited than I expected for me to meet their son...

As they stare back at me, I'm unsure of whether to thank them or correct the assumption. But still, I speak up anyway.

 "Thank you, Mr and Mrs Valentino..." I answer them despite the tightness in my throat.

Mrs Valentino nods, then takes a seat on one of the velvet chairs, perfectly composed, while Mr Valentino remains standing, glancing toward the door behind him.

"He'll be here any moment." Mr Valentino informs me, and that's when my heartbeat spikes yet again.

I nod once, my heart pounding. I try my best to keep calm despite the ringing in my ears. What will he be like? Will he be completely unattractive and rude? I have no idea...

Soon, my thoughts are cut short by the sound of footsteps. Slow, unhurried and seemingly confident.

I feel it before I truly see him, the way the air changes, the way my lungs forget how to draw a full breath, the instinctive tightening in my chest that has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with survival. When I finally turn my head and look at him, I understand why his parents spoke about him the way they did, why Carmen joked about cold-blooded princes, why this house feels built around power rather than comfort. Then I turn my head, and time seems to slow me as I come face to face with the man who has just entered the room...

I freeze as I eye him from head to toe, completely stunned by how handsome he is... He's much taller than I expected, taller than both his mother and father. Broad shoulders beneath a perfectly cut black suit. His hair is pitch black and wavy, sharp against his cream-white skin. And his eyes, cold and steel grey, scan the room with the precision of a man who sees everything and feels nothing. He bears a striking resemblance to both Mr and Mrs Valentino, and that's when I realise exactly who he is...

Stephano Valentino himself.

By the time his eyes land on me, I feel the impact like a physical thing, my stomach suddenly tightening as though I have been singled out by something that does not miss and does not forget. His brows draw together slightly, not in anger, not in interest, but in confusion, as if my presence disrupts an expectation he did not know he had.

"Who is this?" he asks, his voice smooth and low, devoid of anything resembling kindness, yet still enough to send chills running along the surface of my skin.

I flinch internally even though I remain still, my hands folded tightly in front of me, my shoulders drawn back as though posture might protect me from the scrutiny pressing down on my skin.

His gaze moves away from me and settles on his parents, sharp and questioning as he waits for them to answer.

Mr Valentino does not hesitate. "This is Alyssa Hart," he says calmly, motioning his hand towards me.

"Your future bride." He finally says, and that's when I meet Stephano's gaze, too afraid to say anything. His parents didn't tell him this was happening? Why does he seem so confused...

My nerves skyrocket, and I know that whatever his reaction will be, it won't be a good one...

A L Y S S A

I stand there like a deer caught in the headlights as the word replays in my mind.

Bride.

The word feels foreign, almost absurd, yet attached to me in a room like this, standing in front of a man who looks at me like a problem to be solved rather than a person. I feel small under Stephano's gaze as he looks back at me. He does not react right away, nor does he blink or move or soften his gaze. He stares me up and down, his expression completely difficult to read, making it almost impossible for me to tell what exactly is going through his mind. Finally, he turns away from me and turns towards both his father and mother, his eyes bouncing between the two of them.

And that's when we all hear it. The humourless, cold laugh he lets out, one that means the atmosphere in the room is completely heavy and unbearable.

"This is a joke," he says, motioning his hand towards me, immediately making my heart sink to my feet before suddenly racing. The expression on his parents' faces changes immediately, both of them becoming completely displeased with his reaction.

"It is not," his father replies without raising his voice. "You knew this was coming." He says sternly, and the smile on Stephano's face drops abruptly.

"I told you... I was not interested," Stephano says, finally looking back at me again, his eyes moving over my face with clear irritation. "I have said it enough times for it to matter. You think bringing a stranger into this room changes anything. The answer is still no." He answers with the same firmness as his father, and that's when my anxiety spikes, listening to the exchange of the Valentino men.

"This is not a suggestion," Mr Valentino says, challenging his son's boldness. "You have postponed this long enough. The family needs stability. You are going to take over whether you want to or not, and that position comes with obligations. That is something you have known for a long time."

Stephano's jaw clenches, this irritation growing by the second. "Obligation," he repeats. "Marriage. Children. Compliance."

"I mean a future," his father replies. "A continuation. You cannot lead with nothing behind you. You need a wife. You need an heir." He contunues and it makes me wonder why the Valentinos would insist so much on their son having a child now, so much that they would arrange a marriage for him. Perhaps that's just something I'll figure out along the way...

I stand frozen between them, my pulse pounding in my ears, my body locked in place by fear and disbelief. I do not speak. I do not dare interrupt something that feels far larger than me, something that has existed long before I ever walked into this room.

Stephano looks at me again, and the room seems to narrow.

There is no attraction in his gaze, no curiosity in the way people normally look at something new. There is assessment, cold and thorough, like I am being evaluated for suitability, for usefulness, for risk. It makes my skin crawl despite how undeniably handsome he is, despite the fact that if I saw him anywhere else, I might have noticed how striking he is, how carefully put together, how easily he would turn heads.

But here, his attractiveness does not comfort me. It unsettles me, and feels like a warning sign rather than a gift.

His mother shifts slightly in her chair, her posture tight, her eyes fixed somewhere near the floor instead of her son's face, and I realise that even she is cautious around him, that this tension is not new.

"You want me to bind myself to someone I have never met," Stephano says, turning back to his father. "To produce a bloodline because you decided it is time?"

Mr Valentino steps forward, his jaw tight. "You will speak with respect. This family has waited long enough. If you walk away from this, you walk away from everything that comes with the name."

My pulse continues to race as the atmosphere of the room grows heavy, pressing against my chest and making it hard to breathe. Stephano does not respond immediately, instead his gaze locks onto his father's, unblinking, as if he is holding something back, something that would shatter this fragile calm if released.

He finally exhales and turns back to me, my heart stutters.

He walks toward me slowly, his steps unhurried, his eyes never leaving mine, and I have the unsettling sense that he is watching for any sign of weakness, any indication that I might retreat or crumble under the attention. He stops directly in front of me and stares down at me, close enough that I can smell his cologne, dark and expensive, and I have to fight the urge to step back.

His face remains cold, his expression giving nothing away, and that emptiness frightens me, keeping me bolted in place.

"This would be an arrangement," he says, his voice low enough to make chills run along my skin. "Nothing more."

I manage to nod, my throat too tight to trust my voice as I stare up at him. But I have to say something. I can't just let him see how terrified I am of him, and so with all the courage I can muster... I finally speak up.

"I understand the terms completely," I say softly and clearly, my voice just above a whisper. As I speak, his expression relaxes slightly, but only for a moment before his eyebrows return to the same frown he had on before.

"As long as she can provide an heir," Mr Valentino adds, "she will have the full support of this family." He continues, but Stephano's gaze stays on me for several seconds longer, his eyes searching for something I do not understand, before he finally looks at his father again.

"Fine," he says, his jaw clenching tightly before he looks me dead in the eye.

"I will marry her."