Married to the Devil in a Suit

When you’re broke and desperate, the world feels like it’s constantly closing in. I was behind on rent, working double shifts at a run-down diner, and barely surviving on instant noodles and broken dreams. Then Luca DeSantis walked into my life. It was a quiet Wednesday afternoon. I was wiping down the counter when he stepped in like he owned the place. Expensive suit. Chiseled jaw. Cold gray eyes that scanned the room like a security camera. The kind of man you don’t stare at too long unless you have a death wish. He took a seat in a corner booth, but instead of ordering, he watched me. Not in a creepy way—more like he was studying me. “Are you Eliana Carter?” he asked as I approached. I paused. “Yeah. Do I know you?” He slid a thick manila envelope across the table. “You will. Sit.” I hesitated, but something about him made it impossible to say no. I slid into the booth across from him. “What’s this?” “A marriage contract,” he said bluntly. I choked on my own breath. “I’m sorry… what?” “I want you to marry me.” My eyes narrowed. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” “I don’t joke.” He was serious. Dead serious. “I don’t even know you.” “That’s precisely why you’re perfect. No ties. No leverage. You need money. I need a wife.” I laughed, mostly because I didn’t know what else to do. “Why not marry a model or some rich heiress?” “Because they come with problems. You don’t.” My stomach twisted. “What exactly do you need a wife for?” “Legal reasons. And appearances. I’m in the middle of securing a sensitive deal. My enemies need to think I’m settling down.” “And when the deal is done?” He tapped the folder. “The contract is valid for five years. No divorce. After that, you’ll walk away with five million dollars, a new identity if you want, and enough freedom to rewrite your life.” I stared at him, stunned. Five million. A fresh start. But marry a mafia boss? “You’re not even trying to convince me this is safe,” I said quietly. “I’m not offering you safety, Eliana. I’m offering you power. Safety is up to you.” I glanced down at the contract. Legal terms, strict conditions. No cheating. No betrayal. Appear at public events. Share a residence. Keep appearances believable. I bit my bottom lip. “Will we… you know, sleep together?” His jaw tensed slightly. “Only if you want. I’m not marrying you for that.” My heart was pounding. “And if I say no?” “Then you go back to your life—eviction, minimum wage, nothing changes. But this is your chance to never be poor again.” I looked him dead in the eyes. “Do you hurt people?” He didn’t blink. “Only when necessary.” I should’ve walked away. Should’ve told him he was insane. But when you’re backed into a corner, even the most dangerous choices start to look like salvation. “What if I betray you?” I asked. His voice dropped, sharp as a blade. “Then you’ll see a side of me no one survives.” The booth went silent. I reached for the pen he had placed beside the contract. My hands trembled as I signed my name on the dotted line. Eliana Carter. Soon-to-be… Mrs. DeSantis. The wedding was held two days later in an ornate courthouse surrounded by silent men in black suits and guns hidden beneath their jackets. No flowers. No family. No kiss. Just a signature, a vow, and a diamond ring I was too scared to admire. “You belong to me now,” Luca whispered as he slid the ring onto my finger. His breath was cold against my ear. “You’ll never want for anything. But never mistake this for love.” He turned and walked away, leaving me standing at the altar in a designer gown I hadn’t picked, with a future I hadn’t asked for. Still, as the courthouse doors closed behind me, one truth echoed louder than my heartbeat: I wasn’t broke anymore. I was married to the most dangerous man in New York. And this deal… had just begun