Chapter Two: The Engagement
870 Words
Three days.
Three miserable days.
Three days of arguing with her father, searching for solutions, and desperately hoping a miracle would appear.
No miracle came.
The debt remained.
And so did Luca Moretti.
The black car waiting outside the bakery told Elena everything she needed to know.
He was here.
Her father stood near the counter, looking pale.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Elena couldn’t even look at him.
Part of her understood he was desperate.
The other part was furious.
This wasn’t a business deal.
This was her life.
The bakery door opened.
Luca entered.
As usual, he looked completely unaffected by the chaos he’d created.
Dark suit.
Dark eyes.
Dark intentions.
His gaze found Elena immediately.
Always immediately.
It was something she’d begun to notice.
Whenever he entered a room, he looked for her first.
As if everyone else disappeared.
“Have you made your decision?” he asked.
Elena crossed her arms.
“You already know the answer.”
“Humor me.”
She glared.
His expression remained calm.
Infuriatingly calm.
Finally she said the words she hated.
“Yes.”
Silence filled the bakery.
Her father’s shoulders sagged with relief.
Luca’s expression barely changed.
But his eyes did.
Something dangerous flickered there.
Something victorious.
“Good.”
Elena wanted to throw a tray of pastries at his head.
Instead she grabbed her coat.
“Are we done?”
“No.”
His answer was immediate.
“You’re coming with me.”
Her head snapped up.
“What?”
“The engagement party is tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Luca nodded.
“Family tradition.”
“I didn’t agree to a party.”
“You agreed to marry me.”
The arrogance nearly made her scream.
“I hate you.”
A faint smile appeared.
“I know.”
The worst part?
He sounded pleased about it.
The Moretti estate looked less like a home and more like a fortress.
Security guards stood at every entrance.
Luxury cars filled the driveway.
Crystal chandeliers illuminated enormous halls.
Elena felt completely out of place.
She’d spent her life covered in flour and powdered sugar.
These people wore diamonds that probably cost more than her family’s bakery.
Luca remained beside her throughout the evening.
Always nearby.
Always watching.
It was unsettling.
At one point she slipped away toward the balcony just to breathe.
The city lights sparkled below.
For a moment she enjoyed the silence.
Then a familiar voice spoke behind her.
“You keep trying to run.”
She didn’t turn around.
“You keep following me.”
Luca stepped beside her.
The breeze moved through his dark hair.
For once he looked less like a mafia prince and more like an ordinary man.
The illusion lasted only seconds.
“Do you know how long I’ve known who you are?” he asked.
Elena frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
His jaw tightened.
“You don’t remember.”
“Remember what?”
Luca stared at the city.
Several seconds passed.
Then he reached into his jacket pocket.
A folded piece of paper appeared.
Worn.
Old.
Carefully preserved.
He handed it to her.
Confused, Elena unfolded it.
It was a receipt.
A bakery receipt.
Dated three years ago.
Her eyes widened.
“What is this?”
“You served me.”
She looked at him.
Then back at the paper.
Then at him again.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Memories slowly surfaced.
A rainy afternoon.
An unusually handsome customer.
A man sitting alone near the window.
She had given him an extra pastry because he looked exhausted.
At the time she’d thought nothing of it.
Yet Luca had kept the receipt.
For three years.
A strange feeling crawled up her spine.
“Why?”
His eyes met hers.
Dark.
Intense.
Unreadable.
“You were kind to me.”
The answer surprised her.
Moretti men weren’t supposed to care about kindness.
They were supposed to care about power.
Fear.
Control.
Yet his voice sounded almost distant.
As if recalling something important.
“That’s impossible.”
“What is?”
“You expect me to believe this marriage is because of a pastry?”
A shadow crossed his face.
“No.”
Relief washed through her.
Then he added:
“It started because of a pastry.”
Elena’s stomach dropped.
The realization hit all at once.
The way he always watched her.
The way he knew things about her.
The way he looked at her as though she’d belonged in his world long before she ever stepped into it.
This wasn’t a random arrangement.
It never had been.
“Luca…”
For the first time since meeting him, uncertainty crept into her voice.
“How much do you know about me?”
His silence answered everything.
Too much.
Far too much.
And for the first time, Elena wondered whether the debt had simply been an opportunity.
Not the reason.
Because standing beside her was a man who had spent years watching from the shadows.
A man who collected memories the way other people collected trophies.
A man she hated.
A man she feared.
And perhaps the most dangerous truth of all
A man she was beginning to understand.
- Writer
