Elara's POV.

The ring felt heavy on my finger. It was a diamond the size of a postage stamp.

I sat in the back of the sedan, my hands resting on my lap. I kept touching the ring, trying to

convince myself it was real.

Three hours ago, I was scrubbing beakers in a basement, worried about the bus fare. Now, I

had a marriage certificate in my bag and a rock on my finger that could probably buy the entire

university.

I was married. The realization didn't feel like a romantic swell like I always thought it would be.

There were no flowers or soft music. I had entered into a legal merger.

Dante sat on the other side of the wide leather seat, his phone pressed to his ear. He hadn't

looked at me once since we left City Hall.

We reached a massive gate and the car came to a stop under a stone portico. The driver opened my door, and I stepped out.

I felt like an intruder. I turned to Dante, expecting him to say something, maybe a welcome or a

brief explanation of the house rules.

He stepped out of the car, checked his watch, and signaled to another black SUV idling near the

garage. An older woman in a charcoal-grey suit stepped out of the front doors of the mansion.

She had her hair pulled back in a slick tight bun.

"This is Mrs. Gable," Dante said. His eyes finally flickered to me for a fraction of a second.

"She is the housekeeper. She will show you to your room and provide whatever you require."

I opened my mouth to ask where he was going, but he was already walking toward the second

car.

"This way, Mrs. Moretti," the woman said.

I followed her inside.

I had spent my life in cramped apartments and shared dorms where the walls were thin and the

air smelled like old cooking oil. I would have never imagined that I would live in a house like this.

It felt cold and empty, despite the expensive furniture.

"Mr. Moretti's office and private wing are to the east," Mrs. Gable said. Her voice echoed off the

high ceilings. "You are not to enter that wing unless invited. Your suite is on the second floor,

west wing. There is a library, a gym, and a cinema on the lower level. Meals are served at eight, one, and seven. If you have dietary preferences, you will leave a list on the kitchen island."

"I can cook for myself," I said. My voice sounded thin in the vast space. I was used to making

ramen on a hot plate or eating leftovers from the hospital cafeteria.

"That won't be necessary," she replied. She didn't even smile."The staff handles everything.

Your belongings have been moved from your dormitory. They are in your dressing room."

She led me up the wide stairs and into a room. Inside was a bedroom larger than my entire old

apartment. It had a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and a bathroom made of gold and stone.

The tour ended, dinner was served in a dining room that sat twenty people, and the housekeeper and I parted ways. I ate my meal in total silence.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Moretti," Mrs. Gable said when she came to clear the table, and then she was

gone.

I went up to my room, into the bathroom to take a shower and used the expensive soaps that

smelled like sandalwood and citrus. I dried my hair with a towel that was softer than any blanket

I owned. I put on an old, oversized t-shirt I'd had since freshman year. It was thin and faded, but

it was the only thing that felt like me.

I climbed into bed. The sheets were high-thread-count silk.

The silence of the house was heavy, and it was beginning to itch my skin. There were no sirens

from the street, no shouting neighbors, no dripping pipes. It was so quiet that I could hear my organs functioning.

I felt isolated.

I lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling. I thought about the contract.

Ten million dollars, my debt wiped clean and all I had to do was survive this house and give a

man I didn't know a son.

I closed my eyes, trying to force sleep to come.

The click of the door handle woke me.

I didn't move. I kept my breathing shallow, my heart suddenly hammering against my ribs. I

looked at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was two in the morning.

The door groaned slightly as it swung open. A heavy, masculine scent filled the room. I opened my eyes and sat up, pulling the duvet to my chest.

The room was dark, but the moonlight spilling through the window showed the figure standingover me. He was tall, his shoulders broad, blocking out the light from the hallway.

"Dante?" I whispered, hoping it was him and not a stranger.

"Take off your clothes." His voice was hoarse and demanding. It wasn't a request.

I reached for the lamp and turned on the light. The sudden brightness made me squint. Dante

was standing at the foot of the bed, his black suit jacket was gone. His white shirt was already

unbuttoned halfway down, and his tie was loose on his shoulders. His sleeves were rolled up,

revealing muscular forearms. He looked tired.

His body was quite literally more visible now. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen, and he was also the most terrifying.

Despite the fear, a strange heat curled in my stomach. I had been alone for so long, and his

presence was overwhelming. It made me long to just hold him, to feel another person close to

me in this silent house.

I kept staring at his perfectly sculpted features, the sharp jawline, and the dark, stormy eyes.

"Elara," he said.

"Sir," The word fell out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Take off your clothes." He repeated. He stepped closer to the edge of the mattress.

The tone of his voice made me realize I was in for a lot. My life as a student was over.

 My life as his wife had finally begun.

Elara's POV.

"Uhh..uhhh..." A loud cry escaped my mouth as I gripped onto the sheets for an anchor.

I'd never felt more vulnerable, and raw before. My emotions were all over the place, each stroke

a mixture of pain and pleasure.

The feeling was thrilling.

I hadn't told Dante that I was a virgin, I didn't think that was necessary information. Also, I didn't want him to hold back, his body view had already caused a tingly sensation in-between my legs and I just wanted to feel all of inside me.

"mmmhhmm..." My back arched into him, I almost thought I'd snap.

He held my hands above my head and placed my legs over his shoulders. This was the most

alive I'd felt in years. It felt like a breath of fresh air.

He plunged forward again and a sharp gasp escaped my throat making me roll my eyes to the back and curling my toes.

The night unfolded with my hair looking like a bed's nest and legs shaky. Dante had helped me

into the shower to clean up and placed me back into bed to rest.

That little display of care made me think for a split second, maybe, just maybe, I might enjoy

living here.

Unfortunately, I spoke too soon. I woke up the next morning, hoping Dante might give me a hug

or something after such an intimate night.

Maybe a little hello would have sufficed, but when I walked into the living room, he acted like

he'd never even seen me before and simply walked out of the house.

Some people are just inbuilt assholes.

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, we'd just met yesterday. He's probably not used to having people like me around.

Last night, he had been a force of nature: brutal, possessive, yet strangely attentive when he

carried my shaking body into the shower. This morning, I was a piece of furniture he was tired of looking at.

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the ache in my thighs and the lingering sensitivity in

my skin. I needed coffee and maybe a textbook to keep my mind busy.

I was halfway to the kitchen when the massive front doors swung open again. I froze, thinking

Dante had forgotten something, perhaps his conscience, but a different man stepped inside

instead.

He was tall, lean, and dressed in a cashmere sweater and grey slacks.

Unlike Dante, whose hair was always slicked back, this man's dark curls were slightly messy,

falling over his forehead.

He stopped when he saw me, his eyebrows arching in surprise.

"Well," he paused. "The rumors didn't do you justice. You must be the new Mrs. Moretti."

I straightened my posture, trying to hide the fact that I was wearing an oversized t-shirt and no

shoes.

"And you are?"

He stepped forward, extending a hand.

"Lorenzo. Dante's younger, much more likable brother. Though, considering who we're comparing me to, that's a low bar to clear."

I took his hand. His grip was firm but gentle, his skin warm."Elara."

"I know," he said, flashing his perfect white teeth."The genius med student. My brother usually buys tech companies or shipping lines; I was surprised to hear he'd acquired a surgeon-in-training. It's a bit outside his usual portfolio."

I pulled my hand back, feeling a flush creep up my neck.

"It's a contract, Lorenzo. Not an acquisition"

"With Dante, there's no difference," he replied. He walked toward the marble island in the

kitchen, gesturing for me to follow.

"Have you had breakfast? The staff makes a decent espresso, but I usually have to make my own if I want it done right. Dante likes his coffee like his heart, black and bitter."

I found myself leaning against the counter, watching him move. He had this boyish energy that Dante had clearly lost decades ago. He looked like an artist, or a professor, or someone who actually enjoyed the sun.

"I haven't eaten yet," I admitted.

"Sit," he commanded gently, pointing to a stool. "I'll make us something. And don't worry, I don't bite."

As he moved around the kitchen, he actually talked to me. He asked about my studies, what I

specialized in, and if I'd read the latest publication on neuroplasticity.

"Dante doesn't deserve you, you know," Lorenzo said suddenly, handing me a plate of avocado

toast and a steaming cup of coffee.

"He's a machine. He sees the world in spreadsheets and bloodlines. He's forgotten how to be a person."

"He's my husband," I said, though the word felt wrong.

Lorenzo leaned against the opposite counter, his gaze lingering on my face. Up close, he was devastatingly handsome. He had the same strong Moretti jawline as Dante, but his features

were more softened.

"He's a signature on a paper, Elara. Don't let him freeze you out. This house is a tomb if you don't find someone to talk to." He winked at me, a playful, charming gesture that made my heart

skip a beat out of a sudden, sharp attraction.

I took a sip of the coffee. It was perfect. I looked at Lorenzo, then back toward the door where

Dante had vanished. One brother was a cold, distant mountain of ice. The other was a warm,

vibrant light.

I felt a dangerous thought cross my mind as I watched Lorenzo smile at me again.

At least if one wouldn't shower me with love and affection, I'd have the other.

Elara's POV.

The mansion was always cold, but the library was the only room that felt like a real room and

not a museum.

I was hunched over a heavy textbook on cardiovascular pathology when the door creaked. I didn't have to look up to know it was Lorenzo. He had been my only companion for the past week. While Dante was off in the city, presumably breaking bones or making billions, Lorenzo was here.

He was the only one to have a conversation with me that didn't involve a "Yes, Mrs. Moretti"

from the staff.

"You're going to go blind reading in this light, Elara," Lorenzo said. He walked over and turned

on a brass lamp next to my chair.

I looked up, rubbing my eyes.

"I have to keep up. If I stop studying, I'll forget everything I know. I'm a doctor, Lorenzo. Not a decorative vase."

Lorenzo leaned against the edge of the desk, dangerously close to my personal space. He

reached out and traced the edge of the book.

"You're far more than a doctor."

He looked at me with an intensity that made the air in the room feel thick. For a week, he had

been the perfect gentleman.....my perfect gentleman.

"Dante hasn't come home in two days," I said, trying to change the subject.

"Dante is a fool," Lorenzo whispered. He stood up and walked behind my chair. I felt his hands

settle on my shoulders. His touch was warm."He has the most incredible woman in New York

under his roof, and he treats her like a line item in a budget. He doesn't see you, Elara. Not the

way I do."

I should have moved, but I was lonely. I was a twenty one year old girl who had been brought

into a life of silence. Lorenzo's attention felt like a drug, a very addictive one.

He moved around the chair and knelt in front of me.

He took my hands in his.

"I see the way you look at the gates. You're trapped. And it kills me to know that he's the one who has the key."

"It's just a year, Lorenzo," I said, my voice trembling."That was the deal."

"A year is a long time to be unloved," he said. He stood up, pulling me closer to him.

The distance between us vanished. I could smell the expensive cologne on his neck and the faint scent of peppermint.

Lorenzo reached out, his thumb grazing my lower lip. It was a soft, tentative movement that

made my breath hitch. He wasn't demanding like Dante; he was asking.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, though I didn't pull away.

"Elara," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

He leaned in. I could feel the heat radiating off him. My heart was racing, a mix of guilt and a

desperate need for someone to actually want me.

His face was inches from mine. I closed my eyes, waiting for the contact, waiting for the spark

that would finally burn through the ice in this house.

The heavy double doors of the library slammed open against the stone walls.

"Get your hands off her."

I jumped back, nearly tripping over the chair. Lorenzo stood his ground.

Dante stood in the doorway, he looked like he had just stepped out of a war zone. His coat was

open, his tie was gone, and his eyes were not just cold, they were murderous.

"Dante," Lorenzo started, his voice cracking slightly. "We were just...."

Dante moved faster than I thought a man of his size could. In three strides, he was across the

room.

He didn't argue. He grabbed Lorenzo by the collar of his sweater and slammed him back

against a bookshelf. Several books tumbled to the floor, the sound echoing like falling bricks.

"Dante, stop!" I screamed, my hands flying to my mouth.

Dante ignored me.

He had Lorenzo pinned, his forearm pressed against his brother's throat.

"I told you to stay away from her, Enzo. I told you she was off-limits."

"She's a human being, Dante! Not a dog you leave in a kennel!" Lorenzo choked out, struggling against his brother's grip.

Dante's face was inches from Lorenzo's.

"She is my wife. She carries my name. And if I ever see you touching what belongs to me again, I won't care that we share the same blood. I will bury you in the garden. Do you understand me?"

He didn't wait for an answer, he threw Lorenzo aside like he was nothing more than a rag doll.

Lorenzo slumped against the shelves, gasping for air and rubbing his neck.

Dante turned his gaze to me. I felt like a rabbit caught in the sights of a wolf. The possessiveness in his eyes was terrifying.

"Upstairs," Dante commanded.

"No," I said, my voice shaking but firm.

"You can't just walk in here and......"

Dante didn't let me finish. He stepped into my space, his presence completely swallowing me.

He leaned down, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"You belong to me, Elara. You signed the contract, you are mine until I say otherwise. If you think you can find comfort in my brother's bed because I'm not here to watch you, you are sadly mistaken."

"I...it...it wasn't like that," I stammered.

"I don't care what it was like," he snapped. He reached out and grabbed my arm. His grip was

strong, It didn't hurt, but it was unyielding."You will go to your room. You will stay there until I

come for you. And if I find Lorenzo within ten feet of you again, the contract is void, the money is gone, and you'll be back in that gutter within the hour."

He dragged me toward the door. I looked back at Lorenzo, he looked furious.

"Don't look at him!" Dante roared, jerking my arm.

He pulled me out of the library and up the grand staircase. The staff vanished like roaches. He

didn't stop until we reached my bedroom.

He threw the door open and shoved me inside.

I turned around, my anger finally bubbling over.

"You can't treat me like this! I'm not a prisoner!"

Dante stepped into the room and locked the door behind him.

He began to unbutton his shirt.

"You are exactly what I say you are," Dante said. He tossed his shirt onto a chair, revealing the

scars on his chest.

"You want attention, Elara? You want to be seen? Fine. I'll give you all the attention you can handle."

He walked toward me.

"You're going to learn tonight," he whispered, backing me up against the

bed.

"You're going to learn exactly who you belong to."

I reached back, my hand hitting the mattress. My heart was thudding so hard I could feel it in my

ears. I had wanted him to notice me, but this... this was a storm I wasn't sure I could survive.

And I loved it.

"Dante," I whispered.

"What?" He growled, reaching out to cup my jaw, his thumb pressing firmly into my cheek.

"You want me to stop?"

I didn't respond, I didn't want him to. If this was the only way I could have him, I would, but I

won't give him the benefit of my vulnerability.

He didn't wait for an answer. He crashed his lips onto mine. But before he could take another

breath, I flipped him over and his back landed on the bed.

"My way." I said as I sat on his lap.