The Don's Dept

CHAPTER TWO

MARCO'S POV

The Romano girl arrived at my gate exactly on time.

I watched her through the security camera as she stood outside the iron bars, staring up at the mansion. Her hands clutched a small purse, knuckles white. She wore a simple black dress, probably the same one from her father's funeral, and her dark hair was pulled back from a pale face.

She looked terrified.

"Let her in," I told Luca through the intercom.

The gates swung open and she walked up the long driveway, her steps hesitant. I could see her taking in everything, the manicured grounds, the fountain, the house itself with the tall windows. Trying to understand what kind of life she was agreeing to enter.

By the time she reached the front door, I was waiting in my study. I heard Luca greet her, heard her soft voice responding. Then footsteps in the hallway.

"Miss Romano," Luca announced from the doorway.

She stepped inside and I got my first real look at her.

Twenty-three years old according to the background check. Average height, slim build. Pretty in an unremarkable way, the kind of woman you might pass on the street without noticing. Brown eyes that were currently locked on me with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Her father had been weak. A pathetic man who'd gambled away money he didn't have, then drunk himself to death before facing the consequences. I wondered if the daughter had inherited that weakness or if desperation had forged something stronger.

"Sit," I said, gesturing to the chair across from my desk.

She sat, her back straight, hands folded in her lap. Trying to look composed even though I could see the slight tremor in her fingers.

I didn't bother with pleasantries. "You called about my proposal. I assume Father Domenico explained the terms?"

"He did." Her voice was steadier than I'd expected. "But I want to hear them from you directly."

I leaned back in my chair, studying her. Most people couldn't hold my gaze for more than a few seconds. She managed ten before looking away.

"Your father owed me three hundred and forty thousand dollars. That debt is now yours. I'm offering to erase it completely in exchange for a marriage contract."

"A business arrangement," she said quietly.

"Exactly. We'll marry within a month. You'll live here, appear with me at necessary functions, present yourself as my wife to the public and to my associates. In private, you'll have your own room, your own space. I won't touch you unless you want me to, which I doubt will happen."

She flinched slightly at that last part but didn't look away.

"In exchange," I continued, "the debt disappears. Your sister's education is paid for through graduation, including medical school if that's what she wants. You'll have access to accounts for personal expenses. When you need to go somewhere, drivers will take you. You'll want for nothing materially."

"Except freedom," she said.

I smiled without warmth. "You lost your freedom the moment your father signed his name to my ledger. This arrangement just makes your cage more comfortable."

Her jaw tightened. "How long does this last?"

"As long as I need a wife. Could be two years. Could be ten."

"And if I want to leave?"

"You can't." I said it flatly, letting the words settle between us. "Once we marry, you're mine until I decide otherwise. That's the deal. If you try to run, I'll find you. If you embarrass me publicly or betray my trust, there will be consequences. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"You're telling me I'll be your prisoner."

"I'm telling you I keep what's mine." I stood, walking around the desk to lean against it, looking down at her. "Your father took my money and gave me nothing in return. Now you'll give me what I need, legitimacy, stability, the appearance of a normal life. That's how debts work in my world, Miss Romano. Someone always pays."

She met my eyes again, and this time there was anger there alongside the fear. "Why me? You could have anyone. Women who would actually want this life."

"I don't want someone who wants this life." I crossed my arms. "I want someone who understands this is business. No expectations, no delusions about love or romance. No trying to change me or get close to me. You're desperate and smart enough to know this is your only option. That makes you perfect."

"Perfect," she repeated bitterly.

"For this arrangement, yes." I moved back to my chair. "I'm not interested in a real wife, Sofia. I don't do relationships. I don't do emotional attachments. People who get close to me end up dead or used against me. This way, everyone knows exactly what our marriage is, a transaction. You play your part, I erase your debt. Simple."

She was quiet for a long moment, her eyes scanning my face like she was trying to find something human there. She wouldn't find it. I'd buried that part of myself thirteen years ago when I hid in a closet and listened to men murder my father in the next room.

"What if I say no?" she finally asked.

I shrugged. "Then you owe me three hundred and forty thousand dollars by tomorrow night. When you can't pay, I'll take your house. Your sister will have to drop out of school. You'll spend the next decade working to pay off a debt that will keep growing with interest. And if you still can't pay..." I paused, letting her imagination fill in the blanks. "I have other businesses that could use someone like you. They're not pleasant, but they're profitable."

Her face went white. "You'd……"

"I'd do whatever necessary to collect what's owed." I leaned forward, making sure she understood every word. "I didn't build this empire by being soft, Sofia. Your father knew what he was getting into when he borrowed from me. He knew what would happen if he couldn't pay. Now that responsibility is yours. So decide, marry me and live comfortably, or refuse and face the consequences."

Her hands were shaking now, but she kept her voice level. "If I agree, I have one condition."

That surprised me. "You're not in a position to negotiate."

"Just one," she insisted. "You said this is business. That means honesty between business partners. So I want you to promise you'll never lie to me about what this arrangement is. Don't pretend it's something it's not. Don't make promises you won't keep. Just be honest about the transaction."

I considered her. Most people in her position would ask for more money, more freedom, some loophole to escape through. She was asking for truth. It was either very smart or very naive.

"I can agree to that," I said. "Complete honesty about the terms. No illusions."

She took a deep breath, and I watched her make the decision. Watched her choose the prison over the abyss.

"Then I agree to your proposal."

"Good." I pulled out a folder from my desk drawer. "These are the contracts. Read them carefully. Sign them by tomorrow. We'll marry in three weeks."

She took the folder with trembling hands.

I stood, indicating the meeting was over. "Luca will drive you home. Start thinking about what you want to tell your sister."

She rose slowly, clutching the folder to her chest like a shield. At the door, she turned back.

"Mr. Valentino?"

"Marco," I corrected. "You're going to be my wife. Use my name."

She swallowed hard. "Marco. When this is over, whenever you decide you don't need me anymore, what happens to me then?"

I looked at her standing in my doorway, this girl I was about to legally bind to myself for my own convenience, and gave her the only honest answer I had.

"I don't know. I've never let anyone go before.”