Prologue
The marble floors of Vitale Tower gleamed like ice under my heels, each step echoing the collapse of everything I’d ever known. Twenty-four hours ago, my father had sat across from me in our family home, eyes bloodshot, and confessed the unforgivable: he’d gambled away Marcelli Imports. The business my grandfather built from nothing. The legacy that fed three generations. Gone. In its place, a mountain of debt so crushing it threatened to bury us all.
And now I stood here, pride in ashes, about to beg the one man I swore I’d never speak to again.
Dario Vitale.
The doors to his private office opened, and there he was—seated behind a massive desk like a king on a throne of glass and steel. Tall, broad-shouldered, and devastatingly handsome in that cruel, untouchable way. His dark eyes lifted to mine, sharp and unreadable, and my stomach twisted with familiar loathing.
“Miss Marcelli,” he said, voice low and smooth as aged whiskey. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “My father… he’s ruined us. The company, the properties—everything. I need a loan. A substantial one. I’ll sign anything. Work it off for the rest of my life if I have to. Just… help me save what’s left.”
He leaned back in his chair, studying me with the cold calculation of a predator. Silence stretched between us until I wanted to scream.
“I don’t do charity, Asha,” he finally replied. “And I certainly don’t hand out millions to desperate women who despise me.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “I don’t despise you,” I lied through gritted teeth.
One dark brow arched. “No? Then the glares you’ve thrown my way at every gala for the past three years were… what? Admiration?”
I clenched my fists. God, I hated him. Hated his arrogance. Hated the way he dismantled smaller companies without mercy. Hated how his mere presence made the air feel too thick to breathe.
“I’ll repay every cent,” I said. “With interest. Just name your terms.”
Dario rose slowly, rounding the desk until he stood inches from me. He was taller than I remembered, his presence suffocating. “My terms are simple. I don’t want your money. I want assurance. A guarantee that my investment won’t vanish the moment you walk out that door.”
My heart hammered. “What kind of assurance?”
He tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “Marriage. You become my wife. In name and in every way that matters. For as long as I deem necessary.”
The world tilted. “You’re insane,” I whispered, voice shaking with fury. “I would rather die than marry you.”
“Careful,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second. “That pride of yours is about to cost your family everything. Your choice, Asha. Marry me… or watch your father rot in debtor’s prison while your mother loses the only home she’s ever known.”
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of him. This man was a devil in a tailored suit, and I was about to sell my soul to him.
“Fine,” I spat, the word tasting like poison. “I’ll marry you. But know this, Dario.I will never forgive you for this. And I will hate you until the day I die.”
His smile deepened, dark and dangerous.
“We’ll see about that, wife.”
