CHAPTER 1: The price of silence
The scent of blood and expensive cigar smoke was intoxicatingly heavy in the room.
Elena sat perfectly still on the edge of the velvet sofa, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were white. Across from her, behind a massive mahogany desk, sat Dante De Luca. He was not what she expected. He was younger, perhaps early thirties, with sharp features and eyes that were a chilling, icy blue. He wasn't yelling. He was simply watching her, calculating, like a predator deciding which part of the prey to consume first.
Her father was sobbing on the floor, his face bruised and swollen. "Please, Dante. I didn't know the shipment was compromised."
Dante didn't even look at her father. His gaze was fixed on Elena. "Your father owes me five million, Elena. And he failed to protect my interests."
"I... I can work," Elena whispered, her voice trembling. "I can pay it back."
A slow, mirthless smirk spread across Dante's face. He stood up, walking around the desk with a slow, predatory grace. He stopped right in front of her, his tall frame looming. "You have nothing I want, tesoro. Except..." He tilted his head, studying her face. "You."
Elena felt her breath catch. "Me?"
"Marriage," Dante said calmly, as if he were discussing the weather. "A binding contract. I take you as my wife, I wipe your father's debt. You refuse, I bury him in the concrete foundation of my new casino."
"That's illegal! You can't!"
"I am the law in this city," Dante whispered, bending down so his lips were near her ear. She could smell his cologne—dark and dangerous, like rain on hot asphalt. "And I always get what I want."
Elena looked at her broken father, then back at the man who commanded fear with a single glance. She was trading her freedom for her family's life.
"I accept," she whispered, tears finally leaking from her eyes.
Dante reached out, his calloused thumb wiping a tear away, a gesture that was shockingly gentle yet possessive. "Good. Because I would have taken you anyway."