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.”
