Chapter Three: The Wedding Contract
1082 Words
Elena barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the old bakery receipt.
Three years.
Luca had kept it for three years.
Normal people didn’t do that.
Normal people didn’t memorize the details of a stranger’s life.
Normal people didn’t use a two million dollar debt to force their way into someone’s future.
Yet somehow, Luca Moretti had done exactly that.
And now she was sitting across from him in his office.
A wedding contract lay between them.
The room itself was intimidating.
Dark wood.
Floor to ceiling windows.
Bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes.
Everything felt carefully controlled.
Just like the man sitting opposite her.
Luca loosened his cufflinks while reviewing paperwork.
“You haven’t read a single page.”
Elena glared.
“I don’t need to.”
“You should.”
“I already know the important part.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“And what’s that?”
“That you’re impossible.”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth.
The fact that he found her anger amusing only irritated her more.
“Read it.”
She snatched the document.
Fine.
If he wanted her to read it, she would.
The first pages outlined financial arrangements.
Property ownership.
Family obligations.
Public appearances.
Nothing unexpected.
Then she reached the final section.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What is this?”
Luca looked up.
“The rules.”
“Rules?”
His expression remained calm.
“There are only a few.”
Elena read aloud.
“‘You will have access to any property owned by the Moretti family.’”
She frowned.
That wasn’t terrible.
Then she continued.
“‘You will travel with security at all times.’”
She looked up.
“I’m not a prisoner.”
“No.”
His voice was steady.
“You’re a target.”
The matter of fact answer caught her off guard.
Before she could respond, she continued reading.
Her stomach tightened.
“‘No member of the Moretti organization may approach Elena Rossi without Luca Moretti’s permission.’”
Her eyes snapped upward.
“What?”
Luca remained silent.
“Why would that even need to be written?”
“Because I said so.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is for them.”
The response sent an uncomfortable chill through her.
The contract wasn’t protecting the family from her.
It was protecting her from the family.
And judging by the seriousness in his voice, there was a reason.
A dangerous one.
She turned another page.
Then froze.
“‘Any threat made against Elena Rossi will be considered a threat against the Moretti heir.’”
The room suddenly felt very quiet.
Very still.
Very serious.
Slowly, Elena lowered the papers.
“This isn’t normal.”
“No.”
“Most fiancés don’t need legal clauses like this.”
A shadow crossed Luca’s expression.
“Most fiancés aren’t marrying into my world.”
For a brief moment, something genuine appeared in his eyes.
Not arrogance.
Not amusement.
Concern.
It vanished almost immediately.
But Elena saw it.
And somehow that frightened her more.
A week later, she learned exactly why those rules existed.
She was leaving a café after meeting an old friend.
The afternoon was warm.
Crowded.
Normal.
For the first time since the engagement, she almost felt like herself again.
Then she noticed the black motorcycle.
Following her.
One block.
Two blocks.
Three.
The rider never passed.
Never turned away.
Just followed.
A cold sensation settled in her stomach.
Her pace quickened.
So did the motorcycle.
The realization hit instantly.
This wasn’t coincidence.
This was intentional.
Before panic could fully take hold, a black SUV suddenly appeared around the corner.
Brakes screeched.
Several suited men emerged.
The motorcycle immediately accelerated away.
Gone within seconds.
One of the guards pressed a hand to his earpiece.
His face turned pale.
“Mr. Moretti is on his way.”
The words had barely left his mouth when another vehicle stopped nearby.
Luca stepped out.
His expression was terrifying.
Not loud.
Not angry.
Far worse.
Cold.
His eyes scanned her from head to toe.
Checking.
Confirming.
Making sure she was unharmed.
Only after several seconds did he finally speak.
“Are you hurt?”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly.
Only slightly.
Then he turned toward his men.
The look he gave them was enough to make everyone immediately straighten.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
The atmosphere felt dangerous.
Luca’s gaze returned to Elena.
“You were alone.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I was getting coffee.”
“You were alone.”
“There were dozens of people around.”
His jaw tightened.
“You don’t understand how this works.”
Frustration exploded inside her.
“No, Luca, I don’t.”
For the first time, she matched his intensity.
“I don’t understand your rules.”
“I don’t understand your secrets.”
“I don’t understand why everyone acts terrified whenever you walk into a room.”
People nearby suddenly found other places to look.
Luca remained silent.
Then he stepped closer.
Not threatening.
Not aggressive.
Just close enough that she could see the exhaustion hidden beneath the armor he wore every day.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.
More honest.
“Good.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“I don’t want you to understand.”
The answer surprised her.
A lot of things about Luca surprised her lately.
The fact that he watched her wasn’t surprising.
The fact that he protected her wasn’t surprising anymore either.
But this
This sounded different.
Almost vulnerable.
“I’ve spent my entire life in that world,” he said.
“You haven’t.”
His eyes locked onto hers.
“And I would like to keep it that way.”
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
The city noise faded into the background.
Elena found herself studying him.
Really studying him.
The sharp features.
The tired eyes.
The constant tension hidden beneath his composure.
He looked less like a king and more like a man carrying something heavy.
Something he refused to share.
Something painful.
And for the first time, Elena wondered if Luca Moretti wasn’t simply dangerous.
Maybe he was trapped too.
The thought unsettled her far more than hatred ever had.
Because hatred was easy.
Understanding was not.
And standing there on the crowded sidewalk, Elena realized something she wasn’t ready to admit.
The lines between enemy and protector were becoming harder to see.
- Writer
