DEBT OF DESIRE

WELCOME HOME, MY WIFE

It was early in the morning, and I hadn’t slept a wink. How could I? I was about to marry a criminal. My thoughts twisted and tangled until the sharp knock on my door jolted me out of my daze.

I opened it to find a man with a familiar face.

“Ma’am, I’m Dom. Mr. Romano sent me to pick you up.”

My heart sank. I swallowed hard. “Okay… wait in the car. I’ll be down in a second,” I whispered, trying to mask the tremor in my voice.

Dom nodded and walked back to the sleek black car. I closed the door, leaning against it, struggling to breathe. Panic clawed at my chest. When I was younger, my mother always calmed me during these attacks. But she wasn’t here now. This time, I had to calm myself. Because where I was going, no one would look after me.

I slipped into my red dress, painted my lips scarlet, and tied my hair into a bun. I carried my mother’s handbag with me, as if it could bring her presence. When I stepped outside, Dom opened the door, and I slid into the car.

The ride felt less like a journey and more like a funeral procession. My own funeral. Each breath was tight, each thought darker than the last. Refusing Rafael meant my mother would be thrown out of the hospital. Accepting him meant I was walking into my own cage.

By the time we arrived at the Romano estate, Rafael was already waiting at the entrance. Dressed in a black suit, he looked like sin carved into flesh. He opened the door for me himself, his smile sharp.

“Welcome home, my wife.”

The words froze me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I wanted to tell him to let me go back, to pretend this was all a mistake. But then his voice cut through my panic.

“Miss Russo?” He extended his hand.

My hands trembled as I placed mine in his, and he guided me inside. But the moment I stepped through those doors, memories flooded back—the plastic-wrapped body carried past me, Rafael wiping blood off his hands like it was nothing more than sauce.

“Don’t be scared,” he said smoothly, his dark eyes fixed on mine. “Everything is ready. All you have to do is sign the papers, and your mother will remain safe.”

It was a game to him. My life, my soul, reduced to entertainment. I could see the satisfaction burning in his gaze.

We entered his office, where a man stood waiting, clutching rings. He looked like a pastor—or maybe just someone Rafael had threatened into playing the part.

“Say your vows before you sign,” the pastor instructed gently.

Vows. My stomach twisted. How could I vow to a man I didn’t love, didn’t trust, a man I feared?

“I’ll go first,” Rafael said smoothly. He smiled at me like I was the one who wanted this. “I, Rafael Dante Romano, take you as my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to provide for you, to protect you… as long as you obey my rules. Live by them, and we won’t have a problem.”

His words weren’t vows—they were chains.

“Your turn,” the pastor prompted softly.

“Me? I… I don’t know what to say. I didn’t prepare anything,” I stammered, staring at the floor. The pastor’s eyes flickered with sympathy, but he said nothing.

“You don’t need to say much,” Rafael murmured, his smile cruel. “Just say you love me. I want to hear it.”

He knew I didn’t. That was the point.

“I… I love you,” I forced out, my voice breaking.

“Very good,” the pastor said quickly. “Now exchange rings, kiss the bride, and sign the certificate.”

The kiss was nothing—cold, sharp, a mockery of intimacy. Then the pen scratched across the marriage certificate, sealing my fate.

The pastor left in silence, and suddenly it was just Rafael and me.

“I’ve already taken care of your mother’s bills. She’s fine now… my wife.”

Relief overwhelmed me, and before I could stop myself, I hugged him. “Really? Thank you.”

But he didn’t return it. His arms remained stiff at his sides until I pulled back, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” I muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I was just happy—”

“Don’t ever do that again,” he cut in coldly.

The sting of his rejection burned deeper than I expected. I turned toward the door, ready to leave. “I need to go home—to pick up my things and say goodbye to my friends.”

His voice stopped me. “This is your home now, Gabriella Dante Romano. You don’t go anywhere… unless I say so.”