Chapter 2 – The Devil’s Proposal
624 Words
The mansion loomed like something from a nightmare—ornate, gothic, far too beautiful to belong to a man like Dante Moretti.
Aurora stepped out of the car into the chill night, the rain finally easing. The gravel crunched beneath her bare feet, rough and cold. No one offered her a coat. No one dared.
She was escorted through heavy iron doors into a grand foyer. Gold-trimmed staircases swept in opposing curves, and chandeliers dripped crystals like frozen tears. Everything gleamed—marble, mahogany, and menace.
“Take her to the red room,” Dante ordered.
Red room.
Her skin prickled.
Two guards led her through the mansion’s corridors, deeper into its heart. The hallway they entered was lined with mirrors, and for a moment, Aurora didn’t recognize herself—wet hair tangled, cheeks flushed, eyes wild like an animal caught in a snare.
They opened a door.
Inside was a suite painted in deep crimson and black, luxurious and ominous. The four-poster bed had chains tucked discreetly at the corners.
She turned. “You’re sick if you think I’m staying in this room.”
Dante stepped in behind her, alone now. Calm. Powerful. “It’s not a prison.”
“No?” she hissed. “Then why does it feel like one?”
He took a slow step forward. “Because your freedom died the moment your father stole from me.”
“You want revenge, fine. But don’t pretend this is about justice.”
“Oh, I’m not pretending,” he said. “I’m offering you mercy. One year. Be my wife. Smile at my side. Sleep in my bed—”
She cut him off. “I will never be yours.”
He tilted his head, eyes darkening. “You already are.”
He walked to the sideboard and poured two glasses of wine. The blood-red liquid caught the candlelight like rubies.
“This marriage isn’t real,” she said, her voice softer now. “It’s a performance.”
“For everyone else?” He handed her a glass. “Yes. For me? It’s very real.”
She didn’t take the drink.
Instead, she walked to the fireplace, trying to mask the tremble in her hands. “Why me, Dante? Out of all the women in this world, why steal your enemy’s daughter?”
His voice came quietly from behind her. “Because I remember the first time I saw you.”
She turned slowly.
“You were seventeen. Running through your father’s garden barefoot, laughing like you belonged to the stars. You looked free.”
“And you looked like a boy trying to escape a family that ruined everything it touched.”
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Now we both know what cages feel like.”
Silence fell, heavy and sharp.
She finally spoke. “And if I say yes? If I marry you?”
“Your father lives. You live. And you become the most protected woman in this city.”
“And if I say no?”
Dante moved closer. “Then I let my men finish what they started with him.”
Her breath hitched.
It wasn’t a choice. It never had been.
Dante didn’t deal in choices.
Only consequences.
He placed a piece of paper on the desk near her—a contract. Legal, binding, cruel.
“You have until dawn,” he said. “Then I expect your answer.”
He left the room, door closing behind him with the finality of a tomb.
Aurora stood frozen for a long moment. She looked at the paper. At the empty glass.
At the mirror across the room.
The girl staring back at her didn’t look scared anymore.
She looked dangerous.
- Writer
