The Offer
1019 Words
I didn’t sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the same thing.
The blood.
The gun.
And Damiano Romano staring at me like he already knew every secret I’d ever had.
By six in the morning, I’d given up on sleep.
I sat on the edge of my bed with my phone in my hand, staring at the unknown number from the night before.
I had saved it.
I don’t know why.
Maybe part of me thought I’d need it as evidence.
Maybe another part of me was too scared to delete it.
A knock came at my door.
“Elena?”
I quickly locked my phone.
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to be late.”
I looked at the time.
Seven thirty.
“Damn.”
I got dressed quickly, grabbed my bag, and walked into the kitchen.
My brother was already there, drinking coffee.
He looked at me for a second.
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious.”
“I didn’t sleep well.”
He pushed a plate toward me.
“Eat something.”
I sat down, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch the food.
He noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Lying badly.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“I’m fine.”
Before he could say anything else, my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
My stomach twisted.
I didn’t answer.
It stopped.
A second later, a message appeared.
Come alone. 10 a.m.
No address.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message came.
Or your brother comes with you.
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped against the floor.
My brother looked up.
“Elena?”
“I have to go.”
“Where?”
“I’ll explain later.”
I grabbed my bag and rushed out before he could stop me.
The address arrived five minutes later.
It was a private restaurant in Manhattan.
Of course it was.
Everything about Damiano Romano seemed designed to remind people that he could afford whatever he wanted.
I stood outside for almost ten minutes before forcing myself through the doors.
A waiter approached me.
“Miss Moretti?”
I nodded.
“This way.”
My palms were sweating.
He led me to a private room at the back of the restaurant.
The door opened.
And there he was.
Damiano sat alone at the table.
Black suit.
Black shirt.
No tie.
He looked completely relaxed.
Like he hadn’t had someone killed the night before.
Like he hadn’t threatened my brother.
I walked inside.
The waiter closed the door behind me.
Damiano looked up.
Our eyes met.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he gestured toward the chair opposite him.
“Sit.”
I didn’t move.
“You threatened my brother.”
“I gave you a reason to come.”
“That’s not an answer.”
His mouth curved slightly.
“You’re braver than I expected.”
“I’m not here to impress you.”
“I know.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“You’re here because you’re afraid.”
I hated that he was right.
I sat down.
“What do you want?”
He studied me for a few seconds.
“Last night, you saw something you shouldn’t have.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“I believe you.”
“Then we’re done.”
I stood.
“Sit down.”
Something in his voice stopped me.
I slowly sat again.
Damiano reached for the glass of water in front of him.
“You have two choices, Elena.”
I frowned.
“First, you disappear.”
“Disappear?”
“Leave New York. Change your name. Cut contact with your brother. Start over somewhere else.”
I stared at him.
“And the second?”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“You marry me.”
I actually laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“I’m not.”
“You want me to marry you because I witnessed a murder?”
“Because you witnessed something that could start a war.”
My smile disappeared.
“What war?”
“One you’re better off knowing nothing about.”
I shook my head.
“This is insane.”
“Probably.”
He didn’t even deny it.
“Why me?”
“Because you’re already involved.”
“I didn’t ask to be.”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“Neither did I.”
Silence settled between us.
Then he placed a folder on the table.
I looked at it but didn’t touch it.
“What’s that?”
“The contract.”
I stared at him.
“You actually prepared one?”
“I don’t make offers without knowing the answer.”
“And if I say no?”
His eyes became colder.
“Then I can’t guarantee what happens next.”
My heart sank.
“My brother?”
“I didn’t say I’d hurt him.”
“But you threatened him.”
“I reminded you that people around you can be used against you.”
I looked down at the folder.
I hated him.
I hated the calmness in his voice.
I hated that he had put me in a position where there wasn’t really a choice.
But most of all, I hated the fact that part of me wanted to know why a man like Damiano Romano needed a wife.
I opened the folder.
The first page had one sentence written across the top.
Marriage Agreement — Twelve Months.
I looked up.
“One year?”
“One year.”
“And after that?”
“You walk away.”
“No feelings?”
His eyes held mine.
“No feelings.”
I almost believed him.
Almost.
Then he added quietly,
“But while you’re my wife, Elena, everyone will know you’re mine.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
I quickly looked back at the contract.
I didn’t know it yet, but signing that piece of paper would change everything
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