Chapter 3
964 Words
The city wore a veil of soft rain that morning, blurring the skyline into shades of silver and white. Tessa stood at her window, clutching a lukewarm cup of coffee, watching the droplets race down the glass like tiny heartbeats. Her suitcase sat by the door half open, half ready like her mind.
She had barely slept. Every hour had been a battle between fear and reason, between running away and facing what she had signed herself into. She had read the contract again, twice, trying to convince herself that it was real. Every clause, every condition, every signature it all pointed to the same truth. She was going to marry Luca Verran.
Her phone buzzed.
*Your driver is outside.*
Just four words, short and commanding.
Tessa exhaled slowly, grabbed her bag, and locked the door to her apartment the little space that had been both her comfort and her cage. As she stepped out into the soft drizzle, the air smelled faintly of wet pavement and roasted coffee from the street vendor below. A black car waited by the curb, sleek and spotless. The driver stepped out immediately, umbrella in hand.
“Miss Quinn,” he greeted politely, opening the door for her.
Inside, the car felt too quiet, too clean. Her reflection stared back at her in the tinted window pale skin, tired eyes, hair tied loosely in a knot. She looked like a ghost in her own story.
The drive to Verran Tower was short but heavy. Each traffic light felt like a countdown she could not escape. By the time they pulled into the underground garage, her pulse was unsteady.
The elevator ride to the top floor was silent except for the soft hum of classical music. When the doors slid open, she was greeted by a woman in a dark tailored dress sharp, efficient, the kind who spoke with her eyes more than her mouth.
“You must be Miss Quinn. Follow me.”
Tessa followed through a corridor lined with pale marble and soft lighting until they reached a wide room that overlooked the city. A few people were inside an older man with a briefcase, a woman arranging white roses in vases, and Luca, standing near the window.
He turned when he heard her steps.
She froze.
Gone was the casual look from the office. He was dressed in a dark suit, crisp and perfect, his tie knotted with precision. There was no warmth in his gaze, no hint of softness. Just control.
“You are on time,” he said simply.
She managed a small nod. “I did not want to be late for my own wedding.”
Something almost like amusement flickered in his eyes. Almost.
He gestured toward a small table at the center of the room. “Everything is ready. The officiant will handle the formalities. We will sign the marriage license afterward.”
The officiant a calm man with gray hair and a quiet voice smiled kindly. “Shall we begin?”
Tessa’s hands trembled as she took her place beside Luca. Her heart pounded against her ribs as words filled the air words about unity, promise, and forever that meant nothing and everything at once.
When it came time for vows, Luca’s voice did not falter. “I, Luca Verran, take you, Tessa Quinn, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”
It was like he was reading from a script, steady and detached.
Then it was her turn.
Her throat felt dry. “I, Tessa Quinn, take you, Luca Verran, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”
The moment hung between them. Not romantic, not tender just real enough to hurt.
The officiant gave a small nod. “You may sign.”
They moved to the table. The papers waited, white and final. Luca signed first, then handed her the pen. She stared at the blank space next to his name, the black ink glistening faintly under the light. One signature stood between her and a life she could no longer take back.
Her hand shook slightly as she signed.
“Congratulations,” the officiant said with a gentle smile. “You are now legally married.”
The room applauded softly. A few polite claps, a few murmurs. Then it was done.
Tessa looked at Luca, unsure what to feel. Relief? Fear? Gratitude? His face revealed nothing.
He offered his arm. “Come. We have a press photo to take. Just one.”
She blinked. “Now?” “Yes. It will go to the media by evening.”
The photographer positioned them by the window, the city stretching endlessly behind them. “A bit closer, please,” he said.
Luca placed a hand at her waist, firm but careful. The contact sent a shiver through her. She forced a smile, the kind that did not reach her eyes. The flash went off. Once. Twice.
“That will do,” Luca said shortly. As the others began packing up, Tessa stepped away, trying to catch her breath. Her pulse still raced where his hand had rested.
“Do you do this often?” she asked quietly. “What?”“Turn people into contracts.”
He looked at her for a long moment before replying, “Only when they agree to it.”
There was no cruelty in his voice just truth. Cold, clean truth.
A silence stretched between them, the kind that said too much. Then he straightened his cuffs and gestured toward the elevator. “You will come with me now. The driver will take your belongings to the penthouse.”
She hesitated. “You mean today?”
“It is expected for a husband and wife to live together,” he said, echoing his words from yesterday.
- Writer
