Contract to Hell's Den

Elena's pov I stood in front of the cracked mirror in my small bedroom, staring at the girl in the white designer dress. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The dress was beautiful, but it felt like chains around my body. It was tight, I couldn't breathe or walk properly. The laces strangled my tummy and thin waist. Today wasn’t a wedding. Today I was signing away my life for one year to a stranger. “Ma’am, we need to do your makeup now,” the fashion designer said gently. “The car will be here soon.” I nodded, but my throat felt tight. Four people were squeezed into my tiny room, and I could barely breathe. Sweat rolled down my back as I tried to calm myself. I felt hot and suffocated. I sent the designer and makeup artist to wait in the living room. The moment the door closed, I grabbed the flower vase and threw it out the window out of frustration and helplessness, I was entrapped with no way out. The sound of shattering glass didn’t make me feel better. It also made my head ring with noise and a crazy headache. There was no escape. After splashing cold water on my face for the fifth time, I finally put on the heavy white gown again. It looked like a funeral dress to me. I stood in front of the mirror again. This was it. I was about to marry Alessandro Moretti, the cold, ruthless billionaire COO I had only seen on television. A man I had never met and a man known for never seeing the same p***y twice. A man everyone called the Ice King because he is ruthless and wicked. One year. Pretend to be his wife in public. No feelings. No intimacy. Then take the money and leave. That was the deal. My father’s gambling debt would be gone and Marco's debt also, and my family would be safe and have some money to start up their lives. I tried to focus on the bright side. I had always wanted to continue education. I had always wanted to study Aeronautics, but my dad never had enough money, and he also felt that would be useless. But if I got married to Alessandro after one year, I could finally finish my education. But the thought of living with a stranger made my stomach twist. “I’m ready,” I whispered to myself. I stepped out to inform the designer to come in and make whatever adjustment she wanted to make to my dress to make it “Perfecto” though it was already perfect and extremely tight. The fashion designer came back in and tightened the dress until I could hardly breathe. The stylist did my hair and makeup. When they finished, I looked expensive and beautiful, like a real bride to a billionaire. I looked different and stunning. But inside, I still felt like a lamb being taken to get slaughtered. Soon, a car honked outside. The designer peeked through the window. “Ma’am, your car is here.” I took a deep breath and walked out. A sleek black Rolls-Royce was parked in front of our small house. Children from the neighborhood had gathered around it, staring in amazement. I felt embarrassed and quickly got inside. The rest of my makeup and shoes were done while the car moved through the city. As we drove toward the Moretti mansion, my heart pounded harder with every passing minute. I was about to meet the man who would own me for one year. A man known for being cold and heartless. What if he looked at me like I was nothing? What if he looked at me like I was a maid? Though to him that is what I would look like because I had no status, and I was getting married to him for financial assistance. The car finally stopped in front of a massive mansion. The gates were tall and intimidating. Guards stood everywhere. As I stepped out, the heavy dress made every movement difficult. A maid was waiting for me at the entrance. “Welcome, Miss Rossi,” she said politely. “Mr. Moretti is waiting inside.” My legs felt weak as I followed her into the grand hall. The place was cold and luxurious, marble floors, expensive chandeliers, huge frames and works of art and silence that felt heavy. I have never seen a place as beautiful as the Moretti mansion. At the end of a long table, lawyers waited with thick documents. And there he was. Alessandro Moretti. Tall, handsome, and completely emotionless. He didn’t smile. He didn’t even look at me properly. He just stood there like it was another boring business meeting. The lawyer cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?” I sat down with shaking hands. The pen felt like lead. One signature. One year. I signed. Alex signed right after me, quick and careless. Don Giovanni nodded from his seat. “Welcome to the family… for one year.” Later that evening, I was taken to my new bedroom in the mansion. It was bigger than my entire house. I sat on the edge of the huge bed, feeling completely out of place. A knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” I said softly. Alex stepped inside, still in his suit. His eyes were cold as he looked at me. “Rules,” he said flatly. “Stay out of my way. Smile in public. No questions about my life. After one year, take the money and disappear. Do not expect anything more from me.” His words hit like ice. I lifted my chin, trying to sound brave. “I understand.” For a brief second, our eyes met. Something flickered in his gaze, something dark and unreadable, but before I could say anything else he turned and left without another word. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my heart still racing. One year. I just had to survive one year with this cold man. But deep down, I already wondered if I would make it out the same.