THE RULES OF HELL
1131 Words
Elena’s fingers tightened around the thick folder until the edges dug into her palms as she stormed out of the elevator and into the cold evening air outside Rossi Tower. The city noise hit her like a slap. Honking cars, rushing pedestrians, the distant wail of a siren, but none of it could drown out the roaring in her head.
She didn’t go far. She couldn’t. Her legs felt too weak.
She sank onto a cold metal bench a block away, heart still racing, body still burning from that charged encounter in his office. The folder lay open on her lap like a venomous snake ready to strike. With shaking hands, she forced herself to read every brutal clause properly this time.
Curfew: 10 p.m. unless accompanied by the Husband.
No unapproved male friends. All social interactions subject to prior approval.
Must reside full-time in the Penthouse at Rossi Tower.
Public affection required when the situation demands it. Hands-holding, physical closeness, kissing.
Total obedience to reasonable instructions regarding behavior, dress, and movement.
Heavy financial penalties for every violation. Loss of the entire five-million-dollar trust for Claire if she attempted to break or terminate the contract early.
It wasn’t a marriage. It was a f*****g cage wrapped in diamonds and legal threats.
Rage exploded in her chest like wildfire. This man wanted to own her. Control her every move. Parade her around like a trophy wife while she played the perfect, obedient doll for his precious merger.
“f**k this,” she muttered under her breath.
She shot up from the bench, folder clutched tightly in her hand, and marched straight back into Rossi Tower. To her shock, the security guards didn’t stop her. They simply nodded and escorted her back up to the top floor like they had been expecting her return.
When she burst back into his office without knocking, Alessandro was still behind his massive desk, looking calm, composed… and slightly amused, as if he’d been waiting for her little rebellion.
“You arrogant bastard,” Elena snapped, slamming the folder down on his desk with a loud smack. “You expect me to sign this s**t? Curfews? No male friends? I have to kiss you whenever you feel like it in public? You want me to be your obedient little w***e while you play the perfect husband for your precious merger?”
Sandro slowly rose from his chair. A dark, amused glint flickered in those cold black eyes. The corner of his mouth curved. Not quite a smile, but close enough to make her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.
“I see the fire again,” he murmured, voice low and rough like velvet dragged over gravel. “Good. I’d hate to cage a lamb.”
“I’m not a toy you can control!” Elena shouted, stepping closer even though every survival instinct screamed at her to run. “I’m a person. I have a sister who needs me. I have a life—”
“You have nothing but debt and danger,” he cut in smoothly, rounding the desk with predatory grace.
He stalked toward her. Elena refused to back down.
When he finally stopped, they were barely a foot apart. His scent, rich sandalwood mixed with something darker, more masculine wrapped around her like invisible chains. She could see the faint shadow of stubble along his strong jaw, the way his expensive black suit stretched across his broad chest and powerful shoulders.
“Your father didn’t just steal from us, Elena,” he said, voice dropping to a dangerously soft whisper. “He betrayed the Rossi family to the Conti family. Fed them sensitive information. Got good men killed. Then he ran like the coward he was. The Contis have been waiting for the perfect moment to strike right before this merger closes. They already know your name. They know about Claire.”
Elena’s stomach dropped like a stone.
“Marrying you makes you a Rossi,” Sandro continued, his dark eyes locked intensely on hers. “It protects you. It protects your sister. And it gives me the stable, respectable image my European partners demand. This contract is punishment for your father’s sins… and your salvation at the same time.”
Elena’s breath hitched as he stepped even closer. The heat radiating from his powerful body made her skin tingle all over. Her n*****s hardened painfully against the thin fabric of her bra. She hated how wet she was becoming, just from the way he looked at her like he wanted to devour her slowly, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.
“You’re sick,” she whispered, but her voice came out hoarse and breathless, betraying her.
“Perhaps.” His gaze dropped to her lips, raw hunger flashing across his face for a split second. “But I’m the only monster standing between you and people who will hurt Claire without hesitation to get what they want.”
The tension between them was suffocating. Elena could feel her pulse throbbing between her thighs. Her body was betraying her completely. Thighs pressing together, core aching, mind flashing with filthy images of him pushing her against that massive desk, those large hands gripping her hips, that controlled voice growling commands in her ear.
Sandro lifted one hand slowly, almost gently, and tucked a loose braid behind her ear. His fingertips brushed the sensitive skin of her neck, sending a sharp jolt of electricity straight down her spine and between her legs. She barely suppressed a shiver.
“You have twenty-four hours,” he said, voice like dark velvet wrapped around steel. “Think about your sister. Think about the life you could finally give her. Think very carefully about what will happen if you walk away from me.”
He leaned in until his lips were inches from her ear, his warm breath fanning across her skin.
“Sign, Elena… and your sister lives.”
His voice dropped even lower, dangerous and sinfully promising.
“Refuse… and the wolves will tear you both apart.”
Elena shivered violently. Heat pooled low in her belly, slick and undeniable. Her body ached with a need so intense it terrified her.
She snatched the folder from the desk, clutching it to her chest like a shield, and turned away before she did something truly stupid, like leaning into him, like pressing her lips to that cruel, beautiful mouth.
But as she walked out of his office for the second time that day, legs shaky and her core throbbing with shameful arousal, one terrifying truth settled deep in her bones:
She was no longer just afraid of Alessandro Rossi.
She was desperately, dangerously afraid of how much she wanted him.
- Writer
