Bound to my Scarred CEO

Chapter 2: Vincenta's POV

The meeting happened exactly as my father had said. At noon the next day. I had been imprisoned in a guest room since I ceased having an actual room in the house, and then bundled over to a group of hairdressers and fashioners led by my stepmom to apparently make me look suitable enough.

After that whole charade was done, my father and I went off inside his car. The journey was about 45 minutes, which I spent contemplating how bad the damage would be if I decided to jump from a moving car.

Eventually, we got to the venue, and I was led to a private room in a hotel I could never afford. My father walked me to the door, knocked once, and left without a word.

I stood alone in the hallway, my hand hovering over the handle. I took a breath and pushed it open.

A man sat at the far end of a long table, his posture perfect, his hands folded in front of him. He wore a black suit that fit him precisely, and a mask covered the left side of his face. The material was dark, seamless, revealing only his right eye, his jawline, and his mouth.

He didn't stand when I entered. He simply watched me.

"Vincenta Hale," he said. His voice was low, controlled, and it sent a chill down my spine.

"Yes. And you must be Amaro De Luca."

"Sit."

I hesitated, then walked toward the chair across from him. My legs felt unsteady, but I kept my expression neutral. I pulled the chair out and sat down, folding my hands in my lap.

He studied me in silence. His visible eye was dark, sharp, and it moved over my face, my shoulders, my hands. I forced myself not to fidget.

"Your father explained the arrangement," he said.

"He did."

"And you agreed."

"I didn't have much of a choice."

His mouth curved slightly, not quite a smile. "Everyone has a choice. You made yours."

I clenched my jaw. "If that's what you want to believe."

"I don't care what you believe. I hope that you understand the terms." He slid a folder across the table toward me. "Open it."

I pulled the folder closer and flipped it open. Inside was a contract, several pages long, printed in dense legal text.

"Read it," he said.

I scanned the first page, my heart sinking with every line. Public appearances. Scheduled events. Behavior guidelines. No emotional involvement. No intimacy. No independence without approval.

"This is a list of rules," I said quietly.

"Correct."

"You want me to follow them exactly?"

"I expect you to follow them exactly."

I looked up at him. "And if I don't?"

"Then the contract is void, then you and your brother lose everything."

My fingers tightened on the edge of the paper. "You don't know anything about my brother."

"I know enough. Your father made the situation clear and his opinion of the children from his first marriage isn't too good." He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving mine. "Sign the contract, Vincenta. Or walk away. I don't have time to waste."

I stared at him, my anger rising. But beneath it was something else. Something I didn't want to name. His presence filled the room. His voice was steady, commanding, and I hated how it made my pulse quicken.

I picked up the pen beside the folder and signed my name at the bottom of the last page.

"Good," he said. He took the folder back, closed it, and stood. "A car will pick you up tomorrow morning at eight. Bring only what you need. Everything else will be provided."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

He walked past me toward the door, and I caught the faint scent of his cologne. Clean. Sharp. And definitely expensive. My breath hitched, and I hated myself for noticing.

He paused at the door and looked back. "Don't be late."

Then he was gone.

---

The car arrived exactly at eight. A sleek black vehicle with tinted windows. The driver opened the door for me without a word, and I climbed inside, clutching a single bag.

Lucein stood outside with red eyes and a guilt-filled heart. As I packed, I tried to explain to him that I would be fine, and eventually I would get married, but he was inconsolable. He would go back to school the next day and that was enough for me. I had that pathetic excuse for a father signing a contract to ensure such an act would not repeat itself.

The drive took forty minutes. We passed through the city, into the wealthier districts, and finally through a set of tall iron gates. The mansion appeared ahead, sprawling and imposing, surrounded by manicured lawns and tall hedges.

The car stopped at the entrance. The driver opened my door, and I stepped out, staring up at the building.

A woman in a crisp uniform appeared at the top of the stairs. "Miss Hale. Follow me."

I climbed the steps and entered the house. The foyer was enormous, filled with marble floors, high ceilings, and expensive art. My footsteps echoed as I followed the woman down a long hallway.

She stopped at a door and pushed it open. "This is your room. Mr. De Luca will see you in his office in ten minutes."

She left before I could respond.

I stepped inside and my jaw almost left my chin. The room was large, decorated in neutral tones, with a massive bed, a sitting area, and windows that overlooked the gardens. The room was bigger than six dorm rooms put together. I set my bag down on the bed and took a breath.

Ten minutes.

I found the office on the second floor, guided by another staff member who pointed silently down the hall. I knocked once.

"Enter."

I pushed the door open. Amaro sat behind a wide desk, his attention on a laptop screen. He didn't look up immediately.

"Sit."

I crossed the room and sat in the chair opposite him, my hands folded in my lap.

"You have a habit of treating me like a dog," I pointed out.

"I can't help it if I find obedience endearing." He closed the laptop and finally looked at me. "You'll follow a schedule while you're here. Breakfast is at seven. Lunch at noon. Dinner at seven in the evening. You'll eat in the dining room unless I tell you otherwise."

"Why must I ask for your permission to eat elsewhere."

"Because I say so," he said in a no-nonsense tone..

I shook my head. "That's not how it works. If you give me a valid reason, I will gladly follow all your rules. Hell, I'll bark if you want me to."

"You're not to leave the property without informing me first. If you need anything, ask the staff. If you have questions, you'll ask me." He continued without giving me a reason for the previous order.

"And if I want to go somewhere? Like school? The mall? Visit my brother?"

"You'll ask permission for everything except school."

"I don't like this."I bit the inside of my cheek. "I'm not a prisoner."

"No. You're my wife. There's a difference."

His tone was calm, matter-of-fact, and it made my skin prickle. But the way he called me his wife, I won't lie when I say he did something to me.

"We'll attend a charity event next week," he continued. "You'll need appropriate clothing. The staff will arrange it and help you fill out your wardrobe with what you like and also what will be of standard. You'll stand beside me, smile when necessary, and speak only when spoken to."

"So I get to choose the clothes?"

"Of course, it is your body, so you will have certain preferences. The staff will be there to guide you on the appropriate price range."

"Okay Master. Anything else?"

His gaze sharpened. "Don't test me, Vincenta."

"I wasn't."

"Yes, you were." He stood and walked around the desk, stopping a few feet away from me. He was tall, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his eye. "You think you can challenge me in small ways. Push boundaries. See how far you can go."

I stood as well, refusing to let him tower over me. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." He stepped closer, and my breath caught. "I can see it in the way you sit. The way you speak. You're used to fighting for control."

"And you're used to taking it."

His mouth curved again, that almost-smile. "Yes."

We stood there, barely a foot apart, the air between us charged. I could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint trace of his cologne again. My pulse hammered in my throat.

"Go to your room," he said quietly. "Settle in. Dinner is at seven."

I didn't move immediately. I held his gaze, refusing to back down first.

Finally, I stepped past him and walked toward the door.

"Vincenta."

I stopped, my hand on the handle.

"Welcome home."

I didn't respond. I pulled the door open and left, my heart racing, my skin still tingling from his proximity.

This was going to be harder than I thought.