Chapter 1: The Billionaire’s Proposal
Sienna
The moment I walked into the DeLuca Enterprises skyscraper, I knew I was stepping into enemy territory.
The air inside was cold, calculated, suffocating with power. The kind of place where men in custom-tailored suits spoke in whispers, where women walked in sky-high heels, eyes sharp as knives, and where the very walls seemed to hum with the sound of money and corruption.
I didn’t belong here. I had no business stepping into the lion’s den. And yet, I had come anyway. Because Alessandro DeLuca had summoned me.
The receptionist, a polished woman with ice-blonde hair, barely looked up as she gestured to the elevator. “Mr. DeLuca is expecting you.”
I stepped in, my stomach twisting.The numbers climbed. Twenty-fifth floor.Thirty-seventh. Forty-fifth.By the time the doors slid open, I was ready to face the devil himself.
And there he was.
Alessandro DeLuca.
The first time I had met him, it had been at a charity gala, one where the rich played pretend, throwing money at causes they didn’t care about just to look generous. I had been there as a journalist, exposing the hypocrisy of men like him.
He hadn’t liked that.
Now, he leaned back in his Italian leather chair, watching me with those piercing blue eyes that had destroyed weaker men in boardrooms.
“Sienna Monroe,” he drawled. “You came.”
His voice was deep, measured, with a hint of amusement. Like he already knew what my answer would be before I even sat down.
I clenched my fists, keeping my expression neutral. “You gave me no choice.”
A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. “Good. I prefer when people realize they have no power in my presence.”
My nails dug into my palm. Bastard. But I wouldn’t be intimidated.
Not by Alessandro DeLuca. Not by the man who had built an empire with blood and steel, who had single-handedly crushed competitors, and who now sat before me, the very picture of wealth and arrogance.
I didn’t sit.
He watched me for a moment, then gestured lazily to the chair opposite his. “Sit.”
I didn’t move. “Let’s get to the point.”
He smirked. “You always were impatient.”
I bit back the urge to snap at him. He was trying to get under my skin, and I wouldn’t let him. He steepled his fingers, his eyes darkening with something unreadable. “I need a wife.”
The words hung in the air like a slap. For a moment, I thought I had misheard him the deadly seriousness in his gaze told me I hadn’t.
A laugh bubbled in my throat, sharp and bitter. “Excuse me?”
“I need a wife,” he repeated smoothly, like he was asking for a business transaction rather than something personal.
I shook my head. “You’ve lost your damn mind.”
“On the contrary,” he said, leaning forward, his gaze locking onto mine like a hunter sizing up his prey. “I’m very much in control.”
I crossed my arms. “Find someone else.”
His lips twitched. “I want you.”
A slow chill crawled up my spine.
Me?. I asked with curiosity
Alessandro DeLuca wanted me to be his wife.
I let out a harsh breath. “Whatever game you’re playing, I’m not interested.”
His expression didn’t change. If anything, his blue eyes sharpened, like a predator who had just found the one challenge he couldn’t resist.
“This is not a game, Miss Monroe. This is a business deal.”
Business. Of course.
Because men like him didn’t marry for love. They married for power, for control, for convenience.
I should have walked away. I should have turned on my heel and left.
But then he pulled out a check, slid it across the desk toward me.
And when I saw the amount written on it, the air punched out of my lungs. I gripped the edge of the chair to steady myself.
It was more money than I had ever seen in my life. More than enough to save my father.
Alessandro tilted his head, watching me closely, calculating my every reaction. “Marry me for one year. In exchange, I will cover your father’s medical bills and ensure you never have to struggle again.”
My throat went dry. He knew.
He knew about my father. About the hospital bills crushing me, about the debt piling up, about the sleepless nights I spent wondering if today was the day I lost everything.
I clenched my jaw. “How do you even know about that?”
His expression didn’t flicker. “I make it my business to know everything.”
My fingers curled into fists. “And why me? Why not some rich socialite who would love to be Mrs. DeLuca?”
His lips twitched again. “Because they would expect love.” The words knocked the breath out of me.
He didn’t say it with hesitation. He said it with absolute certainty.
Alessandro DeLuca didn’t believe in love.
This was a business transaction to him. Nothing more.
The check sat between us, like a loaded gun.
One year of my life.
One year as his wife.
One year trapped in a world of luxury and deception, pretending to love a man who didn’t believe in love at all.
I should have said no. I should have walked away.
But then I thought of my father. Of the hospital. Of the bills I would never be able to pay on my own. I thought of everything I had already lost.
And I realized that sometimes, losing yourself is the only way to survive.
I met Alessandro’s gaze.
Steady and unwavering.
And I said the words that would change my life forever.
“Fine. I’ll marry you.”
Chapter 2: A Deal with the Devil
Sienna
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I had made a deal with the devil.
Alessandro DeLuca didn’t react. He simply leaned back in his chair, watching me like a wolf who had just cornered his prey.
A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips, but it didn’t reach his cold, calculating blue eyes.
“I knew you’d see reason,” he murmured, as if this had been inevitable.
I clenched my fists under the desk, forcing my face to remain neutral. Every instinct in me screamed that I had just walked into a trap, but it was too late now.
I had said yes to one year.
One year as Alessandro DeLuca’s wife.
One year pretending to be in love with a man who saw marriage as nothing more than a business merger.
I was already suffocating.
Alessandro slid a folder across the sleek mahogany desk, tapping a single manicured finger on the cover. “Everything is outlined in the contract. Read it carefully before signing.”
I snatched it up, flipping through the pages, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Terms of the Contract:
– The marriage will last exactly one year.
-Sienna Monroe will reside in Alessandro DeLuca’s penthouse for the duration of the marriage.
-Public appearances are required to maintain the image of a happy couple.
-No extramarital affairs or relationships during the contract.
-A non-disclosure agreement prohibits Sienna from discussing the terms of the marriage publicly.
-Financial compensation of 0-00 million will be given upon completion of the contract.
I swallowed hard.
This was not a marriage. This was a business transaction. A calculated deal between two people who had nothing in common except mutual need.
I looked up, my hands tightening around the contract. “What happens if I break the agreement?”
Alessandro’s expression didn’t change, but there was something sharp, something dangerous lurking behind his smirk.
“You won’t,” he said simply.
I frowned. “That’s not an answer.”
He exhaled, as if bored already. “If you break the contract, you get nothing. No money. No security. No safety net.”
No way to pay for my father’s medical care.
My stomach twisted.
I hated him.
Hated that he had me exactly where he wanted me-trapped, vulnerable, desperate.
I clenched my jaw, my hands tightening around the pages. “I’ll sign it at your house,” I said, my voice sharp.
Alessandro raised a brow. “Second thoughts?”
“Just making sure I know exactly what I’m walking into.”
His lips curled in amusement. “A wise decision, Mrs. DeLuca.”
The way he said it -Mrs. DeLuca- sent a sharp chill down my spine.
I wasn’t his yet. Not until I put pen to paper.
And I sure as hell wasn’t about to do that in his kingdom of glass towers and boardrooms where he held all the power.
I needed time. Even if it was only a few hours.
Alessandro watched me for a long moment, then pushed the contract back toward me. “Fine,” he murmured. “You’ll sign it tonight at my penthouse.”
A sense of dread curled in my stomach, but I forced myself to nod.
“Then we have nothing more to discuss,” I said stiffly, standing from my chair but before I could turn toward the door, his voice stopped me cold.
“Not quite,” he said lazily.
I turned back, my eyes narrowing. “What now?”
Alessandro leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that felt like a slow, suffocating chokehold.
“There’s a gala tonight,” he said. “You’ll be attending as my fiancee.”
My body went rigid.
Of course.
Because billionaires didn’t just seal their business deals behind closed doors. They had to parade them in front of the world.
I forced myself to keep my voice even. “And what if I refuse?”
Alessandro chuckled, low and dark, and the sound sent a slow chill creeping down my spine.
“Then you break the contract,” he murmured. “And we already discussed what happens when you do that.”
“Bastard”.
I clenched my teeth, my fingers tightening around the contract, resisting the overwhelming urge to throw it in his face.
Instead, I swallowed the anger rising inside me and forced my lips into a tight, practiced smile.
“Fine.”
Alessandro’s smirk widened, satisfied.
I had barely stepped out of his office when his assistant, a woman named Claire, handed me a glistening black box with a golden ribbon.
“What’s this?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Claire smiled politely, but there was something pitiful in her gaze, like she already knew what kind of hell I was about to step into.
“Mr. DeLuca requires you to wear this for tonight’s event.”
Event? I turned sharply, my pulse spiking. “What event?”
Before Claire could answer, Alessandro strolled out of his office, buttoning the cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt.
I hadn’t noticed before, but under his perfectly tailored suit, his physique was all lean, hard muscle, the kind of strength that came from more than just luxury gyms and personal trainers.
A man who was used to power. Control. A man who never lost and now, he owned me.
“There’s a gala tonight,” Alessandro said smoothly, eyes glinting. “I expect you to be ready in two hours.”
A gala. Of course. Because billionaires didn’t just sign contracts and call it a day. They had to parade their acquisitions in front of the world.
I forced a tight smile. “And what
Alessandro chuckled, low and dangerous. “Then you break the contract. And we already discussed what happens when you do that.”
I clenched my teeth and took the box from Claire’s hands, turning on my heel. “Fine.”
The Dress That Changed Everything
The dress inside the box was obscene.
Blood-red silk, custom-made to fit a woman with curves that demanded attention.
It was elegant, seductive, and far too revealing for someone who was supposed to be in a fake marriage.
I turned to the mirror, my breath catching. I look very different. Not like myself.
Like the kind of woman a billionaire would want on his arm. A woman who belonged in Alessandro DeLuca’s world.
I swallowed hard, shaking the thought away. This wasn’t about him. This was about my father, my survival, my future.
A knock at the door startled me.
“Ready?” Alessandro’s deep voice slid through the crack like a whisper against my skin.
I squared my shoulders. “Yeah.”
The World Meets Mrs. DeLuca
The gala was held at the Astoria Grand Hotel, a lavish ballroom dripping in chandeliers, gold accents, and crystal glasses filled with champagne worth more than my rent and the moment we stepped inside, heads turned.
Whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire.
“Is that Sienna Monroe?”
“Since when is Alessandro DeLuca engaged?”
“She’s not his type.”
Alessandro placed a hand on my lower back, his touch light but firm, a warning and a command all at once.
I stiffened, resisting the urge to shove him away.
But then, from across the room, a pair of sharp green eyes locked onto mine.
Isabella Moretti.
Alessandro’s ex-fiancee.
The woman he was supposed to marry before their scandalous breakup made headlines.
Her gaze flicked to Alessandro, then to me, and a slow, knowing smirk curved her lips.
This wasn’t just a contract marriage anymore. This was war.
And I had just become the billionaire’s most dangerous pawn.
Chapter 3: A Reluctant Yes
I stepped into the Astoria Grand Hotel, my fingers curled into my palm, my pulse a steady drumbeat against my ribs.
The scent of expensive champagne and fresh roses lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of power, money, and deception.
I was standing in a room filled with the elite-the kind of people who looked down at the world from their glass towers, untouched by the struggles of ordinary people like me.
And yet, here I was, parading around as the soon-to-be wife of the most powerful man in the room.
Alessandro DeLuca.
The man who had made it his life’s work to control everything around him. The man who now, by contract, owned me.
His touch was barely there, a ghost of pressure against my lower back, but it burned like a brand, a silent reminder that I was expected to play my part tonight.
That I was no longer just Sienna Monroe, journalist, fighter, daughter of a man struggling to breathe in a hospital bed.
I was now Sienna DeLuca, the woman who had willingly stepped into the cage with the lion, knowing full well that I might not make it out alive.
Eyes turned toward us, whispers riding the air like a snake weaving through the grass. I could feel their judgment, their disbelief, their curiosity.
No one had seen this coming. Alessandro DeLuca had been untouchable for years, a man who never let anyone close, a man who played the game of power without letting emotions get in the way.
And yet, here I was, standing beside him in a dress that clung to my body like sin, my hand resting lightly against his arm, my lips curved into a practiced, effortless smile.
But the moment I met her gaze from across the room, the air shifted.
Isabella Moretti.
She was stunning, the kind of woman who belonged in Alessandro’s world, with her sharp emerald-green eyes and lips painted a dangerous shade of red.
She was the woman everyone had expected him to marry, the woman who had been on his arm for years before their scandalous breakup.
And now, she stood at the edge of the ballroom, her gaze locked onto me with an intensity that sent a slow, cold shiver down my spine.
Alessandro tensed beside me, just for a second, so quick that anyone else might have missed it. But I felt it. And that was enough.
She sauntered toward us, the crowd parting for her like she was royalty. Her smile was practiced, perfect, but I could see the venom lurking beneath it.
“Sienna Monroe,” she said, her voice smooth, as if she were tasting my name on her tongue and deciding she didn’t like it. “I have to say, this is quite the surprise.”
I smiled back, refusing to let her rattle me. “Is it?”
Her gaze flickered to Alessandro, then back to me, something dark and knowing gleaming in her eyes. “You don’t exactly seem like his type.”
Alessandro didn’t say a word. He simply watched, silent and unreadable, as if waiting to see how I would handle myself.
I tilted my head, letting my smile widen just a fraction. “And what exactly is his type?”
Her lips curved in amusement, but there was a challenge there, a silent warning. “Well,” she mused, swirling the champagne in her glass, “let’s just say his past choices have been a little more… refined.”
I felt the tension coil in my stomach, but I refused to let her see it. I had spent years in rooms like this, surrounded by people who thrived on power plays, who wielded words like weapons and expected others to fold. But I wasn’t going to fold.
I leaned in just slightly, lowering my voice enough that only she could hear me. “And yet, here I am.”
Her smile flickered, just for a second, before she masked it. But I saw it. The brief crack in her confidence. The realization that I wasn’t going to break just because she wanted me to.
Alessandro finally spoke, his voice smooth and sharp like a blade. “Isabella, I trust you’re enjoying the evening?”
She turned to him, her expression shifting into something softer, something almost… intimate. “I was,” she said, her voice dipping, “until now.”
His gaze was unreadable, but there was something dangerous in the way he was watching her, something cold and final. “Then don’t let us keep you.”
It was a dismissal. A clear, undeniable dismissal.
For a brief second, I thought she might fight it, might push a little harder, might try to reclaim the ground she had just lost. But instead, she simply smiled, slow and knowing, before turning away, her movements graceful, effortless, calculated.
The moment she was gone, I exhaled slowly, the tension in my shoulders easing just slightly.
“Well,” I murmured, “that was fun.”
Alessandro glanced down at me, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. “You handled that well.”
I lifted a brow. “Were you expecting me to fail?”
His lips twitched, the closest thing to amusement I had seen from him all night. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
I tilted my head, studying him. “And what do you expect now?”
His gaze darkened, something shifting between us, something thick and heavy and unspoken.
“That,” he murmured, “remains to be seen.”
A waiter passed by, offering glasses of champagne, and Alessandro plucked one from the tray before handing it to me. I hesitated for a second before taking it, letting my fingers brush against his. The touch was brief, barely there, but it sent a sharp jolt of awareness through me.
I pulled my hand back too quickly, clearing my throat. “So what happens now?”
He sipped his drink, watching me over the rim of his glass. “Now, we give them what they want.”
I frowned. “And what exactly is that?”
He set his glass down on a nearby table and turned to face me fully. “A show.”
Before I could react, before I could even process what was happening, he reached for me, his fingers curling gently under my chin, tilting my face up toward his. The room around us seemed to blur, the whispers fading into the background as my pulse thundered in my ears.
And then, without hesitation, without warning, he kissed me.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming. Possessive. Designed for the crowd but somehow meant only for me.
For a split second, I forgot where I was. I forgot the contract. I forgot the eyes watching us, the whispers, the cameras capturing this moment.
All I could feel was him-his lips against mine, the steady, unyielding warmth of his body so close to mine.
And then, just as quickly as it began, it was over.
He pulled back, his gaze steady, unreadable, as if that hadn’t just changed everything.
The applause rippled through the room, loud and approving, and Alessandro smiled, turning toward the crowd as if he had just delivered exactly what they had wanted.
I, on the other hand, stood frozen, my lips tingling, my heart hammering against my ribs, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Because for the briefest moment, I had forgotten it was all a lie.
Chapter 4: The Contract Is Signed
The air inside Alessandro DeLuca’s penthouse felt heavy, suffocating, like the weight of the decision I was about to make was pressing down on my chest.
The contract sat on the glossy black marble table, its pristine white pages a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me.
Alessandro leaned against the window, his arms crossed, his sharp blue eyes pinned on me like a predator watching its prey struggle before the inevitable.
His suit, tailored to perfection, molded to his frame, but there was nothing comforting about his presence. He was power incarnate, ruthless, unwavering.
The kind of man who bent the world to his will without so much as breaking a sweat and now, he expected me to sign away my freedom.
His voice broke the silence, low and smooth, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it. “You look like a woman contemplating an escape.”
I let out a slow breath, my fingers gripping the edge of the chair. “Maybe I am.”
A smirk tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then allow me to remind you that you have none.”
His words sent a ripple of anger through me, cutting through the hesitation that had been clawing at my resolve.
I had spent my entire life fighting-against expectations, against the system, against men like Alessandro who thought they could manipulate the world to suit their needs.
But this time, I wasn’t fighting for a byline in a newspaper. I wasn’t fighting for recognition.
I was fighting for my father.
And for that, I would walk through hell itself.
My fingers curled around the pen, my breath catching for a brief second as I hovered over the dotted line that would change my life forever. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if even the walls of the penthouse were waiting to see what I would do.
Alessandro didn’t move. He simply watched, his eyes never leaving mine, as if daring me to back out.
I could feel the weight of his presence, the silent, unyielding power he radiated, as if he already knew my answer before I did.
I swallowed, my throat dry, my pulse hammering like a war drum against my ribs.
And then, I signed.
The moment my pen touched the paper, a shiver ran down my spine, as if the very universe had just acknowledged that there was no turning back.
Alessandro stepped forward, his movements slow, calculated, until he was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him, the quiet dominance in the air between us.
“You just became Mrs. DeLuca.” His voice was a whisper of steel, cutting through my resolve like a blade.
I forced my expression to remain unreadable. “On paper.”
A glint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “For now.”
A cold chill skated down my spine at the implication in his words.
He reached for the contract, his fingers brushing mine just slightly as he pulled the papers toward him. His touch was brief, barely there, but it sent a sharp, unwanted jolt of awareness through me.
I snatched my hand back, ignoring the way my skin tingled where we had made contact.
His smirk deepened, as if he had felt it too.
“Pack your things,” he said smoothly, folding the contract with the ease of a man who had just secured his next victory. “You’re moving in tonight.”
The words landed like a gunshot, sending a fresh wave of unease rolling through me.
I had known this was coming. I had read the clause in the contract that stated I would be living in his penthouse for the duration of the marriage. But knowing something and facing the reality of it were two very different things.
“I’ll need time,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
His gaze darkened, his smirk fading just slightly. “You have two hours.”
Two hours.
I should have argued. I should have pushed back. But the way he was looking at me, the quiet challenge in his stance, told me that he would not bend.
Alessandro DeLuca never bent for anyone.
I pushed my chair back, standing with a forced calm I didn’t feel. “Fine.”
His gaze flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t say another word as I turned on my heel and walked out of the penthouse.
The moment the elevator doors closed behind me, my breath left me in a sharp exhale.
I had just sold my soul to the devil and there was no going back.
I stood outside my apartment, staring at the door like it held all the answers I needed but refused to give them to me.
This was it. My last chance to walk away. My last moment of freedom before I stepped into a world I did not belong in.
But as I pushed the door open, the sight of my father hooked up to machines, his breathing slow and uneven, reminded me why I was doing this.
Why I had no choice.
“Sienna?” His voice was weak, but there was warmth in it, a softness that threatened to shatter the wall I had built around my heart.
I forced a smile as I walked toward him, brushing a hand over his thin, trembling fingers. “Hey, Dad.”
He gave me a tired smile. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. He didn’t know. He had no idea the price I had paid for the money that would keep him alive.
And I would never tell him.
Because this was my burden to carry. Not his.
Two hours later, I stood outside Alessandro’s penthouse with nothing but a suitcase and the weight of my decision pressing down on me.
The door swung open before I could knock.
Alessandro stood there, shirt unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled up, his watch glinting in the dim lighting. He looked unbothered, unaffected, like this was just another business deal to him.
Maybe it was.
“That was quick,” he murmured, stepping aside to let me in.
I walked past him, my chin lifted, refusing to acknowledge the way his presence filled every inch of the space.
“This isn’t my first time packing light,” I said smoothly.
He chuckled, low and dark, and something about the sound made my stomach tighten.
“This is your home now,” he said, closing the door behind me.
My grip tightened around the handle of my suitcase.
No.
This wasn’t my home. was a gilded cage, and I was just another possession locked inside it.
Alessandro moved toward the bar, pouring himself a drink with the ease of a man who had never second-guessed a single decision in his life.
“Your room is down the hall,” he said casually, sipping his whiskey. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I set my suitcase down, my heart pounding in my chest.
One year…
One year of living with a man who was more dangerous than he let on.
One year of pretending to be the perfect wife to the world’s most powerful billionaire.
One year of walking on a razor’s edge, knowing that one misstep could cost me everything.
Alessandro set his glass down, his gaze locking onto mine, amusement flickering in his blue eyes.
“Welcome to your new life, Mrs. DeLuca.”
My stomach twisted.
Because I knew, without a doubt, that this was just the beginning of something I might not survive.
Chapter 5: A Cold Engagement
I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the massive diamond ring on my finger, the weight of it pressing down on me like a chain. It sparkled under the lights, flawless, expensive, a perfect reflection of the man who had placed it there.
Cold. Calculated. Untouchable.
Alessandro DeLuca.
The man who now, by contract, owned me.
A knock at the door yanked me from my thoughts, and before I could respond, the door swung open.
Alessandro stood there, looking as infuriatingly perfect as ever in his custom-tailored suit, the top buttons of his shirt undone, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal strong, tanned forearms.
wasn’t the kind of man who tried to impress-he simply existed, and the world bent to him.
His sharp blue eyes assessed me in silence, flickering from my face to the engagement ring on my hand. Something unreadable passed through his gaze before it disappeared behind his usual mask of indifference.
“Time to go,” he said, his voice smooth as glass.
I exhaled, steadying myself before turning to face him fully. “Do I get a say in this, or is this another decision you’ve made for me?”
The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement, but it was a mocking kind of smile, like he already knew the answer to that.
“You lost the right to negotiate the moment you signed the contract.”
My fingers curled into fists at my sides. “Right. How could I forget?”
He stepped forward, his presence suffocating, invading my space without ever touching me. He leaned down, his voice a breath against my skin, low enough that only I could hear.
“Don’t fight me tonight, Sienna,” he murmured, the warning clear beneath the calmness of his tone. “Or you won’t like the consequences.”
I refused to look away, meeting his gaze head-on even though the air between us crackled like a live wire. I hated how he could do this-how he could command a room, command me, without even raising his voice.
But I wasn’t going to break.
Not for him.
Not for anyone.
I grabbed my clutch off the vanity, lifted my chin, and pushed past him without another word.
The moment we stepped outside, the world exploded in flashing lights.
Cameras. Journalists. Reporters screaming Alessandro’s name, my name, demanding answers, demanding a glimpse into a love story that didn’t exist.
Alessandro’s hand found my waist, a perfect picture of devotion as he pulled me closer, his grip firm, unyielding. It was a warning disguised as affection. Play along. Don’t falter.
I pasted on a smile that felt like a lie, letting him guide me toward the waiting limousine. The crowd ate it up, their cameras drinking in the image of the ruthless billionaire and his stunning fiancee.
If only they knew the truth.
The moment we slid into the car, the atmosphere shifted. The second the doors closed, the warmth Alessandro had projected to the cameras vanished. The air inside the limo was ice-cold, thick with unspoken tension.
I exhaled, dropping the smile like a mask I no longer needed. “You’re good at that,” I said, my voice laced with something sharp.
He barely looked at me as he adjusted his cufflinks. “At what?”
“Lying.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked just slightly, but his expression remained impassive. “It’s not lying,” he said smoothly. “It’s business.”
I scoffed. “Right. Because a real engagement isn’t profitable enough for you?”
He finally turned his head, his gaze locking onto mine, sharp and piercing. “A real engagement would mean emotions, attachments, vulnerability. I don’t have time for such things.”
There it was. The truth in its coldest, most unfiltered form.
Alessandro DeLuca didn’t believe in love and he never would.
The thought shouldn’t have bothered me. I had known what I was getting into. I had signed the contract, accepted the terms, walked into this arrangement with my eyes wide open.
But still, something about the finality of his words twisted inside me, leaving an aftertaste I didn’t like.
The limo pulled up to the grand ballroom, and before I could brace myself, Alessandro was opening the door, stepping out with the grace of a man who had done this a thousand times before. He extended his hand, his expression unreadable, his eyes a silent command.
I hesitated, just for a second.
Then, with the weight of the cameras, the expectations, and the contract hanging over my head, I slid my fingers into his.
His grip tightened, his palm warm against mine, and for a split second-just a fraction of a second-I felt something dangerous.
Something that felt too much like possibility.
Then it was gone.
The second we stepped onto the red carpet, Alessandro’s smile returned, perfectly practiced, perfectly placed, the kind that made people believe in fairy tales and happily-ever-afters.
And I played my part, standing beside him, smiling, nodding, letting the world believe in a love story that didn’t exist.
The ballroom was dripping in wealth, chandeliers casting golden light over the sea of designer gowns, expensive cologne, and false politeness. People turned as we entered, whispers spreading like wildfire.
Some of them smiled. Some of them watched with thinly veiled envy.
And then there were the ones who were waiting for me to fail.
Including her.
Isabella Moretti stood near the grand staircase, a glass of champagne in her manicured fingers, watching us like a queen surveying an unworthy intruder in her kingdom.
She looked stunning, of course-all sharp edges and calculated perfection. But it wasn’t her beauty that unsettled me. It was the way she smiled, slow and knowing, as if she already knew how this story would end.
Alessandro’s fingers flexed against mine before he released my hand, his entire demeanor shifting. Become Colder. More distant.
The way people looked at him changed instantly.
I realized then that the warmth he had shown outside was for show-an illusion crafted for the cameras, for the media, for the world to believe in the fairytale of Alessandro DeLuca and his fiancee.
But in private?
I was nothing more than a business deal he had closed.
I swallowed, forcing my shoulders back, my chin high, refusing to let them see me falter.
If they thought I would be easy to break, they were wrong.
I was here now and had signed the contract.
And I would play this game better than anyone.
Alessandro turned to me, his expression unreadable, his voice smooth but void of any real warmth.
“Shall we?”
I gave him a practiced smile, letting it slip into place effortlessly.
“Of course, fiance.” And just like that, the show continued.
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