Becoming His

Chapter 3

The black town car glided through the city streets like a predator, delivering me to my new cage. I stared at the unfamiliar platinum ring on my finger, the diamond catching the dying light as if mocking my situation. Mrs. Dario Vitale. The name felt like a brand, searing into my skin after only a few hours.

We pulled up to one of the most exclusive residential towers in the city, a sleek monolith of glass and steel that screamed old money mixed with ruthless modern power. The driver opened my door, and I stepped out, clutching the small overnight bag I’d packed in haste. My actual belongings were apparently already being handled by Dario’s efficient staff. Of course they were.

The private elevator required a fingerprint scan, Dario’s, I assumed, before it whisked me straight to the top floor. When the doors opened, I stepped into a world that couldn’t have been more different from my family home. The penthouse was vast, minimalist, and breathtakingly masculine. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the harbor and the glittering city skyline. Black marble floors, leather furniture in deep charcoal tones, and abstract art that probably cost more than our entire warehouse inventory. It was beautiful. Cold. Soulless.

“Welcome home, wife.”

Dario’s voice came from the open-plan living area. He stood near a sleek bar cart, jacket discarded, shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing a hint of tanned skin. He looked every inch the conqueror who had just claimed his prize.

“This isn’t my home,” I said flatly, setting my bag down. “It’s a temporary arrangement.”

He poured two glasses of what looked like expensive red wine and approached, offering me one. I took it only because refusing felt childish. Our fingers brushed, and I hated the spark that shot through me.

“Temporary or not, you live here now,” he said, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Your clothes are in the master closet. I had a separate dressing room prepared for you, as per our negotiation. But the bedroom is shared.”

My grip tightened on the glass. “We discussed boundaries. I expect—”

“You expect a lot for a woman who came begging two days ago,” he interrupted smoothly, though there was no real cruelty in his tone. Just facts. “Dinner is ready. We’ll eat, then discuss how this marriage will function. I don’t tolerate surprises, Asha.”

He led me to the dining area, where a long table was set for two. Minimalist plates, crystal glasses, and a meal that smelled divine: seared scallops, herb-crusted lamb, and roasted vegetables. A private chef’s work, no doubt. I sat, acutely aware of how out of place I felt in my simple blouse and skirt amid all this luxury.

We ate in tense silence for a few minutes before I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“My parents,” I said. “I want daily check-ins. And I need to continue some work with Marcelli Imports, what’s left of it. You agreed I could consult.”

Dario took a sip of wine, watching me over the rim of his glass. “Your mother has the house. Your father’s trust is active and restricted. As for work, yes. You’ll report directly to me on import strategies. Vitale Enterprises is expanding into new markets. Your expertise is valuable. But you will attend events with me. Play the part convincingly. The world needs to see a united front.”

I stabbed a scallop harder than necessary. “And in private? I won’t be your convenient toy, Dario. This is a business deal, nothing more.”

He set his fork down, leaning back. The intensity in his gaze made the air feel thinner. “You keep saying that. Yet your body language tells a different story. You’ve hated me for years, Asha. Those glares across gala halls. The way you challenged me publicly. Tell me, does that hatred keep you warm at night?”

Heat flooded my face. “It’s better than whatever game you’re playing. I know your type. You destroy things. Companies. People. You don’t build, you conquer.”

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “And yet here you are, married to the conqueror. Saving your precious legacy. Tell me about your Nonno again. The one who taught you to hold on with both hands. Does he approve of this sacrifice?”

The mention of Nonno stung. I looked away, toward the darkening harbor view. “He would have done the same for family. That’s the difference between us. You have no family loyalty. Just power.”

Dario was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. “You know very little about me, cara. Assume what you want. But make no mistake, this marriage will serve both of us. I protect what’s mine. That now includes you and your family.”

“I’m not yours,” I whispered fiercely.

“You signed the papers. You wear my ring. You said ‘I do’ this afternoon.” He stood and circled the table, stopping beside my chair. His hand came to rest lightly on the back of my neck, not forceful, but possessive. The touch sent traitorous warmth spreading through me. “Hate me all you like. Channel it. But when we’re in public, you will look at me like a wife who wants her husband.”

I rose abruptly, stepping away from his touch. “And if I don’t?”

His eyes darkened with challenge. “Then I’ll remind you of the stakes. But I suspect you won’t need much reminding. There’s fire between us, Asha. You felt it the first time we met at that gala. I saw it in your eyes when you argued with me. Deny it if it makes you feel better.”

I wanted to slap him. I wanted to kiss him. The conflicting urges terrified me. Instead, I turned and walked toward the windows, staring out at the city lights.

“I spoke to Stella and Victoria earlier,” I said, changing the subject. “They know. They’re worried.”

“Good. Loyal friends are useful. But they don’t interfere in our marriage.” He came up behind me, close but not touching. “Tomorrow we’ll announce the marriage discreetly. A whirlwind romance story. Your father’s debts will be spun as resolved family matters. Control the narrative, Asha. That’s how you survive in my world.”

I spun to face him. “Your world. Not mine. I grew up with real values. Hard work. Honor. Not whatever cutthroat games you play.”

Dario’s expression shifted, something almost like respect flickering in his eyes. “Honor didn’t save your company. I did. Remember that when you’re lying in our bed tonight.”

The word “our” sent a jolt through me. The master bedroom loomed in my mind, massive, undoubtedly dominated by him. “I’ll take the guest room.”

“There is no guest room prepared for sleeping. Only your dressing room.” His voice dropped to a velvet command. “You sleep beside me, wife. But I won’t force more than that. Not yet. When you come to me, it will be because you can’t stand the tension anymore.”

Arrogant bastard. I brushed past him, heading toward what I assumed was the bedroom wing. “Don’t hold your breath.”

His low chuckle followed me. “Eighteen months is a long time, Asha. We’ll see who breaks first.”

I found the master suite. It was as luxurious and intimidating as the rest of the penthouse. A king-sized bed with crisp black linens. His scent lingered faintly in the air. I changed into silk pajamas in the adjoining dressing room, my clothes already neatly arranged, a surreal sight,band slipped under the covers on the far side of the bed, hugging the edge like it was a lifeline.

Dario entered later, after I’d turned off all but one lamp. He moved with quiet confidence, shedding his shirt to reveal a sculpted torso marked by old scars I hadn’t expected. He disappeared into the bathroom, then returned wearing only black lounge pants. The mattress dipped as he got in on his side.

The silence was deafening.

I lay rigid, every nerve aware of his presence. The heat radiating from his body. The steady rhythm of his breathing. Hatred should have been my shield, but it was cracking under the weight of unwanted awareness.

“Asha,” he said softly into the darkness.

“What?”

“Sleep. Tomorrow will be busy. And remember, I keep my promises. Your family is safe. Now it’s your turn to keep yours.”

I didn’t reply. But as exhaustion finally pulled me under, I couldn’t stop the traitorous thought that this man, my enemy and husband, might be more dangerous to my heart than I had ever imagined.