Chapter 2 – Thirty Days in His World
1063 Words
The contract arrived within the hour, just as Alessandro promised. Twenty printed pages, thick with legal terms, consequences, and signatures. Amelia sat on a velvet chair inside one of the Bellavista Hotel’s VIP suites, holding the pen with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking.
The lawyer beside her wore a grey suit and a colder expression. “If you do not sign, Ms. Hart, Mr. De Luca will have no choice but to press charges and file for the full financial recovery of damages caused at today’s ceremony. Your signature avoids all that.”
She didn’t respond. Her eyes were locked on the contract. Thirty days of fake marriage. No intimate contact unless required in public. No interference with his business. No disclosure of their private agreement. Payment? A sum that could save her entire shop, clear her debts, and still leave enough to breathe for the first time in years.
But it came with a cost. Her freedom. Her name. Her privacy. And the risk of Alessandro learning about the child he unknowingly fathered.
She thought of Lucas. His messy curls, his giggles, the way he clutched his teddy bear at night. He was her everything. And she had built a careful, quiet life to keep him safe. Would this agreement—this lie—destroy that?
The lawyer cleared his throat.
She signed.
Moments later, she was swept into a whirlwind of silk dresses, hairstylists, and a makeup artist who never asked for her name—only her measurements. Everything moved too fast. She was zipped into a cream-colored wedding gown, pinned with a diamond hairpiece, and led to the elevator without a single pause to breathe.
Downstairs, the ballroom had been cleaned and rearranged in record time. The press had been called back. Guests refilled the chairs, smiling politely as if nothing had ever gone wrong. And at the front of the aisle, Alessandro stood in black, unbothered, untouchable, his face carved from ice.
Amelia stepped into the light, her heels clicking against the marble floor, her stomach twisting with every step. People stared. Some whispered. None knew who she was.
But Alessandro didn’t blink.
He offered her his hand. She placed hers in his, and the moment their skin touched, something strange passed through her—a flicker of heat, or memory, or something deeper she hadn’t expected.
The ceremony was short. Dry. The vows were scripted. The kiss didn’t happen.
By sunset, she was Mrs. Amelia De Luca in the eyes of the world. But she didn’t feel married. She felt like property.
Later, in the backseat of a black limousine, silence stretched between them like a wound.
“You didn’t even look surprised when I showed up,” she said, her voice soft.
Alessandro looked out the window, his jaw clenched. “I was too busy cleaning up a public disaster.”
“You didn’t think it was crazy to marry a stranger you met five hours ago?”
“I didn’t marry you,” he said flatly. “I married an image. A performance. And that’s all you need to be. A face. A name. Don’t overthink it.”
Amelia turned away, pressing her fingers against her temple. “You don’t even remember, do you?”
His eyes flicked to her, confused. “Remember what?”
She hesitated. Her lips parted, then closed. No. Not yet. If she told him now, everything would spiral out of control. He needed to believe she was a stranger. Just for a little while longer.
“Nothing,” she whispered. “Forget it.”
They pulled into an underground parking garage. The elevator ride to his penthouse was long, quiet, and filled with unsaid things. When the doors opened, she stepped into a world of glass walls, black marble, and city lights. The penthouse was sharp, cold, and perfect—like its owner.
“There’s a guest room,” Alessandro said, walking ahead. “You’ll stay there. You’ll attend events when I say. Dress as required. Smile when needed. But don’t mistake any of this for real.”
She didn’t move. “Why are you doing this? You could’ve picked anyone. A model, an actress, even a random socialite.”
He turned slowly, eyes dark. “Because none of them would owe me enough to stay quiet.”
There it was. The truth. She was leverage. A convenience. And for the next thirty days, she belonged to him.
She slept in the guest room that night, curled under thick sheets, staring at the ceiling while memories of their one forgotten night returned like waves. He hadn’t known who she was then, either. It had been dark, soft music playing, her name never spoken, his whispered kisses filling every corner of her soul.
And now he stood in the same room as her, completely unaware he had once held her like she mattered.
She thought about telling him. But Lucas was the one thing she couldn’t risk. Not now. Not when she had no power, no control, and no idea what Alessandro would do if he found out he had a son.
So she stayed silent.
The next morning, the headlines exploded.
“Mystery Bride: Alessandro De Luca Marries in Secret Ceremony After Fiancée’s Disappearance!”
“Billionaire Love Twist: Who Is the Woman Who Stole His Heart Overnight?”
Her face was everywhere. So was his.
By noon, they were seated at a charity gala, cameras flashing, hands locked together on purpose. Alessandro leaned close, whispering through a perfect smile, “You’re shaking.”
“I’m nervous.”
“You can’t afford to be.”
Amelia smiled for the cameras, waved politely, and whispered back, “I’m not the only one lying here, Mr. De Luca. So don’t expect me to act like it’s easy.”
He gave her a quick glance, like something in her words pricked his pride. “Just keep up the act. The sooner we survive this month, the sooner you disappear.”
Her smile faltered for a moment. And that’s when she knew—this game wouldn’t be as clean as he expected.
Because the deeper they went, the more dangerous it became.
And if Alessandro ever remembered who she was—or worse, met the little boy who looked exactly like him—this fake marriage would become the biggest scandal of his life.
- Writer
