A Dangerous Courtship
624 Words
The second day dawned with steel-gray skies and a restless wind that rattled the mansion’s windows. Ivy stood by the barred window of her room, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Sleep had been a stranger again, and her mind raced through endless spirals of thought.
No matter which angle she looked at it, the truth was clear—Luca De Rossi had trapped her.
But maybe, just maybe, she could trap him back.
The soft knock at her door came as no surprise. Ivy didn’t flinch when it swung open without her permission. Luca entered, carrying the same effortless dominance he wore like a second skin. Dressed in a black-on-black ensemble today, he looked every bit the mafia king he was rumored to be—dangerous, ruthless, devastatingly calm.
"You’ve had your night," he said simply, voice like smooth bourbon. "What’s your answer?"
Ivy turned to face him, chin high despite the tremble she buried deep inside.
"I’ll marry you," she said coldly.
No wavering. No apology.
Luca's eyes gleamed with something that could have been amusement—or respect. It was hard to tell with men like him.
But Ivy wasn’t done.
"I have conditions," she added, stepping forward until she could feel the charged air between them.
He c****d his head slightly, the faintest smirk teasing his mouth. "I'm listening."
"I keep my name. I keep my businesses. I want access to my accounts, my legal teams, and my properties. You get the public alliance, but I keep my independence."
Luca leaned casually against the nearest table, arms crossed, considering her like a chess piece he was about to move.
"You want autonomy," he said. "Even under my roof."
"I’m not a puppet," Ivy snapped. "I won’t be paraded around like some trophy wife. If you want a Marcelli woman, you better be ready to bleed for the privilege."
For a heartbeat, the only sound was the distant crack of thunder outside.
Then Luca laughed softly—a rich, unexpected sound that sent a shiver down her spine.
"You have more spine than most of my men," he said. "Good."
He straightened and stepped closer. Ivy held her ground, even as he invaded her space, towering over her, the heat of his body a silent threat.
"I don’t want obedience from you, Ivy," he said, voice low. "I want fire. Strength. A woman who can stand at my side without flinching when the world burns."
She met his gaze steadily. "Then you’ll get exactly what you asked for."
Their deal wasn’t sealed with a handshake or a kiss. It was forged in the hard, unyielding set of their jaws. In the electric tension sparking between them.
A silent agreement between predators.
"You’ll need a ring," Luca said, his voice lighter now, almost teasing. "And a dress."
She arched an eyebrow. "When's the execution—I mean, wedding?"
"In three days," he replied smoothly. "Enough time to prepare. Not enough time for our enemies to move against us."
"Efficient," Ivy muttered under her breath.
Luca smirked again. "You'll come to appreciate it."
He turned to leave but paused at the door.
"Oh," he added casually, not even looking back, "you’ll also need a gun. Consider it a wedding gift."
Before Ivy could react, he was gone, leaving her alone with the storm raging both outside and inside her chest.
She let out a long, shuddering breath.
Married to the devil.
Trapped in a palace made of gold and bone.
But she wasn’t the same girl who had been abducted days ago.
No—she was something new now.
Something sharp.
Something dangerous.
And if Luca De Rossi thought he could tame her, he was about to find out exactly how wrong he was.
- Writer
