The contract was between us like a loaded gun.

Fifty pages of contractual mumbo jumbo making me sign on the dotted line for the man who orchestrated the murder of my father. We sat in the dining area of his penthouse, with floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a sweeping view of the empire that he wanted to take from me.

There were no legal representatives around to witness our proceedings, having already shed their quota of blood and left us alone to sort out the matter. "Read it again if you have to," Luca spoke, while pouring two glasses of scotch at the bar. "As soon as that pen hits the paper, there is nothing you can do about it."

"I understand the terms of this agreement," I muttered, as my mind screamed, He killed him. He poisoned his drink. The same one in his hand right now. My stomach rolled violently inside me, feeling the waves of sickness hitting me. I was about to lock myself into a cage with this man, selling my freedom for some kind of access to his computer and his life.

I reached for the pen. It was chilling to touch.

Luca stepped forward and placed a crystal tumbler filled with an amber-colored liquid beside the contract. He didn’t sit down. Instead, he stood by my side, his intense gaze fixated on me. I felt his burning gaze on the back of my neck.

Does he know? My heart beat rapidly in fear. Could he be suspicious about my plans seeing the report?

Without even considering the consequences for long, I put my pen down on the paper and wrote in bold letters “Arya Veritas.”

I slid the contract towards him.

Luca snatched the pen from my hand and signed “Luca De Luca” right next to mine with ruthless efficiency.

We both now belonged to each other.

I didn’t touch my glass but kept staring at the contents of his with the taste of aconitine in my mouth and eyes filled with pure hatred. I raised my eyes towards him, trying to make sure the intensity of my rage would be masked behind an icy calmness.

If he believed that he had won or made me bend, he hadn’t known yet what had really been brought into his bedroom.

"Tomorrow, we will make the announcement," said Luca, his mocking tone turning into one of command. "You are going to move all your belongings to the master bedroom by Friday. No more separate rooms. For us to make a sale out of this, to sell this to the press and my board, everything must be perfect."

"All I promised was that I would marry you on paper," I retorted.

"And the terms of the contract dictate that I have your total compliance in the public arena," Luca answered coldly, his voice deepening as he leaned towards me and stared at me through narrowed eyes, removing the layer of civility he had put up before me. "You are mine, Arya. Completely mine."

I glared back at him, giving only a hint of defiance so that he could misinterpret my actions.

"We shall see about that," I said softly.

Luca picked up the contract, folding it with deliberate slowness. The smirk was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous. Something that looked like anticipation.

"This marriage will destroy you.”

The air of the cathedral was suffocatingly sweet, with the perfume of the white lie lilies that hung from the marble columns in great swaths of pristine beauty.

I had come here to die; not to wed. The dress, a relic passed down through generations of the Veritas family, was made of heavy, black lace, reminiscent of a funeral gown.

Luca stood waiting at the altar. His sleek black suit, cut to perfection, was a stark contrast against the pure white marble. His gaze held no warmth, just the cold, calculating satisfaction of an unspoken victory.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, for the benefit of those in the front row.

"Absolutely stunning."

"I hope your dreams of me are nightmares you can never awaken from," I replied, plastering on a false smile.

There was an odd chanting going on in the background. In reality, it was the monotone droning of the priest performing the marriage ceremony. In my head, there was a list forming of the enemy forces that surrounded me: Thorne sitting three rows back with hungry eyes, the De Luca capos scattered throughout the pews.

"I am going to kill you for what you have done to him," I thought, meeting Luca's piercing gaze when we exchanged the rings. The ring was like a ball and chain around my finger, chilling and weighty.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The flashes from cameras sounded like gunshots. Luca brought me closer and put one hand on the small of my back, pressing me against his strong torso. Touching him sent an unpleasant electric current of loathing through me. We looked like a match made in heaven before the whole world. The truth was that we were two vicious predators playing our games.

The reception was a chaos of fake smiles and drinks. It was hard to keep up with acting, and I had a headache from pretending to enjoy all of it. The minute a camera turned away, my face would fall apart into a cold expressionless mask.

"Your stamina is fading, wife," Luca whispered in my ear when we were standing at the marble steps of the cathedral for some pictures.

"My tolerance for hypocrisy is wearing off."

His grip tightened on my waist, his thumb digging into my hip through the silk. He leaned down, his lips brushing my temple, his breath hot against my skin.

Luca whispers: "Smile. Or I will make you."

The penthouse became a tomb made of glass and steel.

The heavy door closed behind me and left us in complete silence that allowed me to even hear the pumping of blood within my body. I threw my flowers onto the table like they were toxic.

"Where’s my room?" I asked without turning to look at him.

“You’re standing in it,” Luca answered as he started stripping off his jacket and flinging it over a leather chair. He slowly started to undo his cufflinks as if he enjoyed torturing me.

I walked towards the master bedroom, opening the double doors and finding my breath catch in my chest. The entire room had only one king-sized bed and that was covered in charcoal silk. Moreover, my luggage was already lying there for me to see.

"There has been a misunderstanding. I've already mentioned that I want two separate bedrooms.”

"Then sleep on the floor. However, you will be sleeping in this room."

"That wasn’t part of the bargain, Luca!"

But now he moved, swift, fluid motion that had pinned me up against the edge of the bed. He did not physically touch me, but his very presence was enough to form a barrier between us. The air that surrounded us was tense and humming with a strange kind of energy.

"Bargain is what I decide, Arya," he growled and hovered above me, looming over me in a menacing shadow. His eyes scanned mine, looking for some sign of weakness.

"Get used to the scenery."

He straightened up and looked at the bed with raking eyes.

"We are sharing everything now wife.”