Chapter Two: Between the devil and the deep blue sea
1325 Words
Lara’s POV
I rubbed my cold palms on my thighs and let out a deep breath as I stepped out of the cab. Looking up, I found myself staring at a building that looked like it belonged in a billionaire magazine spread.
The first time I heard the name Dante Moretti, a cold feeling ran down my spine.
Dante Moretti was a man wanted and feared on three continents. He ran the Vittorio Syndicate. The deadliest according to my lawyer.
He was known to be brutal. Heartless. People committed suicide when they crossed him.
What I never imagined was that my father had dealings with a man like that.
“What if I beg him?” I had asked my lawyer.
He shrugged. “ I don’t think it will make any difference, Lara, but I’ll set up a meeting for you”
I expected chaos on reaching there. Not just chaos, violence. Men with guns hanging loosely at their sides. Loud voices. The smell of smoke and danger clings to every surface. I expected something crude. Something obvious. Like the ghetto. Instead, it was the exact opposite.
I walked inside.
The temperature dropped instantly, cool, controlled, almost sterile.
The men weren’t dressed like criminals. Tailored suits. Clean haircuts. Earpieces. Their eyes tracked me the second I stepped in.
One of them approached me.
“Name.”
No greeting. No smile.
“Lara Rossi.”
His gaze didn’t change, but something in his posture did. Recognition. Or maybe confirmation.
He spoke into his earpiece, low and quick, then gestured.
“Follow me.”
We stopped in front of a set of double doors. The man turned to me.” Wait.”
He knocked once. Opened the door without waiting for a response. Then you stepped aside. I hesitated. That was the defining moment. Then I walked in.
I forced myself to walk forward. Each step felt louder than it should. I stopped a few feet from his desk. He put his hands on the Mahogany table and looked up at me. His tattoos, visible beneath the clear, hairy skin of his already rolled-up sleeves, were… were sumptuous. I quickly looked away. I let out a small breath.
“Mr. Moretti.”
My voice came out steadier than I expected. Good. I wasn’t going to let him see me break. His gaze moved over me slowly. I felt more self-aware of myself than I have ever been.
“Miss Rossi.”
His voice was low. Smooth. Controlled.
“You came.”
I let out a breath.
“I didn’t have much choice.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Amusement? Maybe. He leaned back slightly in his chair, looking at me from underneath his lashes.
“You always have a choice. By the way, your father owes me.” He simply said.
I swallowed.
“My father is dead,” I said, the words sharper now. “Whatever debt he had, whatever he did, that has nothing to do with me.”
Dante’s expression didn’t change. “That’s not how debt works.”
“I… I’ll pay,” I swallowed. “I’ll do anything as long as you give me time. I can fix this,” I continued quickly. “I can rebuild the company. I can pay it back. Just—give me a chance.”
He studied me as I’d just presented him with something mildly interesting. There was hope. He would li—
“How long?”
Hope beamed at me.
“Six months.”
He paused.
“No.”
It was like a smack on my face.
“What? Three, then,” I pushed, stepping closer despite myself. “Three months. That’s all I need. I can—”
“No.”
His constant refusal gave me whiplash. “ What? “You’re not even listening—”
“I am.” He paused as if to let that sink in. “That’s why the answer is no.”
Something in me snapped.
“Then why the hell am I here?” I demanded. “If you’ve already decided, why bring me in? Why not just take everything and be done with it?” I glared at him.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk. And suddenly the distance between us felt… smaller. His dark eyes bored into mine. It was hypnotic.
“I didn’t bring you here to negotiate,” he said quietly. A chill slid down my spine.
“Then what?”
His gaze held mine. Longer than I expected. My heart raced.
“I brought you here,” he said, “to offer you a solution.”
“Wha…wha…what kind of solution?”
The corner of his mouth lifted—barely. Not a smile. Something colder.
“Marry me” For a second, I thought my ears were playing tricks on me.
“…what?”
His voice didn’t waver.
“Marry me. Bear me an heir. In one year, all your debts will be cleared”
The room tilted. This time I laughed. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
I lost heart in my laughter.
Silence crashed down around us. I stared at him. The longer I stared the more real it became.
“You’re insane.” I glared at him.
“I’ve been told worse” He didn’t even blink.
“Why would I ever agree to that?”
“Because,” he said smoothly, “it solves all your problems.”
“Oh, does it?” I scoffed.
“Yes.” He smirked. “Your debt, gone. Your mother’s treatment is fully funded. Your name, protected.”
Each word landed heavier than the last. But what hurt the most was that it was the truth.
“No, absolutely not. I’m not—this isn’t—”
“You’d be my wife for one year,” he continued, like I hadn’t spoken. “You carry my child. After the birth, you’re free to leave.”
Free. The word sounded like a lie. “I’m not a breeding contract!” I snapped. Something twisted in my chest. You think you can just buy me?
“I think,” he said evenly, “that you’re running out of options.”
“I’d rather lose everything,” I said in gritted teeth.
“You haven’t lost everything. Your mother’s treatment ends tomorrow.”
Ice flooded my veins.
“What?
“ You think because you're rich and—
“I haven’t interfered,” he added, staring at me dead in the eyes. “Yet.”
“You are bluffing” I clenched my fist.
“Call the hospital”
“It’s none of your business!” I exploded. “ Take your stupid offer and shove it up your ass. I’d rather stick pins in my eyes than marry you!” And with that, I walked out of his study.
My anger was a shield as I marched out of the house. By the time I was out, I realized I had just walked past men with guns, so sophisticated, I never knew they existed.
As soon as I was home, I got a call from the hospital.
“Hello Doctor, “ I answered cheerfully.
“I’m sorry to inform you Miss Rossi. Your mother’s treatment has been halted pending further authorization.”
Everything inside me went still.
“What? Why?”
“We were told to halt treatment until the account is cleared.”
“No,” I whispered. “
“I’m sorry.”
The call ended.
Slowly I lowered myself to the bed, and the first thing my eyes fell on was a yellow throw pillow. It was a favorite from my father’s numerous gifts.
Memories of my
father flooded my head and my eyes watered. He always said, ‘ Lara you can do anything as long as you want it’
A sob escaped my lips, before tears came rushing down. I can’t Dad. I just can’t.
- Writer
