Chapter Two: The Devil’s Bargain
605 Words
Emily’s heart hammered against her ribs as Luciano’s words echoed in the silence.
*Marry me.*
She should have laughed again. Should have turned on her heel and walked out of his office—out of his life—for good. But the heat of his touch still burned on her skin, and the challenge in his gaze held her captive.
"You’re joking," she breathed.
His thumb traced her jawline, slow and deliberate. "Do I look like I’m joking?"
No. He looked like a man who always got what he wanted.
She forced herself to step back, breaking contact. "Why me? You could have any woman you want."
A shadow flickered in his eyes. "I don’t want *any* woman. I want you."
The raw possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. But she wasn’t naive enough to believe this was about desire. Luciano De Luca didn’t do anything without a calculated reason.
"Why?" she pressed.
He exhaled sharply, as if annoyed by her resistance. Then he turned and strode to the window, his back to her. "My grandfather’s will."
Emily blinked. "What?"
"He’s given me an ultimatum. Marry within the month, or lose control of the company." His voice was clipped, but she didn’t miss the edge of frustration.
Her mind raced. Luciano’s grandfather, the legendary Vittorio De Luca, had built the empire Luciano now ruled. But the old man had always been traditional—obsessed with legacy, with family.
"And you chose *me* as your solution?" She couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice.
He turned back to her, his expression unreadable. "You know me better than anyone. You’re discreet. And this way, I don’t have to waste time pretending to care about some socialite who’ll expect more than I’m willing to give."
The words stung more than they should have. Of course. This wasn’t about *her*—it was about convenience.
She crossed her arms. "And what do I get out of this… *arrangement*?"
His lips curved, but there was no warmth in the smile. "Name your price."
A million retorts flew through her mind, but only one mattered. "My job. Permanently. No more threats to fire me."
"Done."
"And a salary increase."
"Generously."
She hesitated, then lifted her chin. "And after the marriage is no longer necessary? What then?"
His gaze darkened. "Then we dissolve it. Cleanly. No messy attachments."
*No attachments.* The words should have reassured her. So why did they feel like a blade twisting in her chest?
She swallowed hard. "How long?"
"A year. Maybe less."
A year. Twelve months of pretending to be the wife of the most powerful—and most infuriating—man she’d ever known.
It was insane.
But so was the traitorous part of her that wanted to say yes.
Luciano stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. "Well, Emily? Do we have a deal?"
Her pulse roared in her ears. Every instinct screamed at her to run.
Instead, she held out her hand.
"Yes."
His fingers closed around hers, warm and firm. But instead of shaking her hand, he pulled her closer, until her body nearly brushed against his.
"One more condition," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.
She stiffened. "What?"
His other hand slid around her waist, possessive and sure. "No one can know this is a marriage of convenience. Not my family. Not the press. *No one.*"
Her throat went dry. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," he said, his lips grazing her temple, "you’re going to have to *act* like you’re madly in love with me."
Then, before she could react, his mouth crashed down on hers.
- Writer
