An Offer Without Love
1291 Words
At precisely ten the next morning, Isabella arrived at the Moretti Group's headquarters.
The building stood in the financial district, its glass exterior reflecting the pale autumn sunlight.
She had spent the entire journey reminding herself that she was not there to be intimidated.
She was there to ask questions.
The receptionist greeted her politely and directed her to a private elevator.
A man in a dark suit met her on the thirty-second floor.
"Miss Romano?"
"Yes."
"I'm Daniel. We spoke yesterday."
"I remember."
He led her through a corridor lined with photographs of business awards and charitable donations.
The offices were quiet, immaculate, and expensive.
Isabella had expected something darker.
Instead, the place looked like the headquarters of any successful corporation.
That somehow made it more unsettling.
Daniel opened a door.
"Mr. Moretti is expecting you."
Alessandro stood behind a large desk, reviewing a document.
He looked up when she entered.
"Miss Romano."
"Mr. Moretti."
He gestured toward the chair opposite him.
"Please sit."
She remained standing.
"I'd rather hear your answers first."
Something resembling amusement crossed his face.
"Very well. Ask."
"Did you know my father?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"He worked with one of my family's shipping companies."
"Doing what?"
"Financial administration."
"Why didn't you tell me that when we met?"
"Because we were discussing a possible marriage, not your father's employment history."
"That's convenient."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Careful, Isabella."
"Why? Will asking questions increase the debt?"
The room went silent.
Daniel, who had been standing near the door, looked as though he wished he were somewhere else.
Alessandro slowly placed his document on the desk.
"No. But refusing to listen to the answers may cost you an opportunity."
Isabella folded her arms.
"Then answer properly."
For several seconds, he studied her.
Finally, he said, "Your father worked for a company associated with my family. Before his death, he became involved in a financial dispute."
"What kind of dispute?"
"One that was never resolved."
"Was he murdered?"
The question emerged before she could soften it.
Alessandro's expression became unreadable.
"His death was officially recorded as an accident."
"That wasn't my question."
"No," he said quietly. "It wasn't."
Isabella's heart began to pound.
"Do you believe someone killed him?"
"I believe there are questions about his final months that deserve answers."
"Then why are you asking me to marry you instead of helping me find those answers?"
"Because marriage serves a purpose beyond your father's history."
"What purpose?"
Alessandro leaned back.
"My family is facing a period of instability. Several business alliances are under pressure. My enemies are watching for signs of weakness."
"And you need a wife."
"I need a stable public image and a household that does not depend on political alliances."
"Then marry someone from one of those families."
"I could."
"Why don't you?"
"Because I don't want to."
His answer was so blunt that Isabella momentarily forgot what she had intended to say.
Alessandro continued.
"Your circumstances make the arrangement possible. You need financial security. I need a marriage that isn't built around another family's demands. We can provide each other with something useful."
"You're describing a business deal."
"That is exactly what it is."
"And what happens when you become bored with me?"
"I don't make personal decisions based on boredom."
She almost laughed.
"That's reassuring."
He opened a drawer and removed a document.
"This is the revised agreement."
He slid it across the desk.
Isabella took the pages.
The financial provisions had been amended. Her family's support was separated from her personal allowance, and Sophia's treatment was guaranteed under a separate arrangement.
She read every paragraph carefully.
The agreement still contained restrictions on discussing the Moretti family's private affairs, but Daniel had added language protecting Isabella's right to seek legal advice and communicate with her family.
She paused at the final page.
"What does this mean?"
Alessandro followed her gaze.
"The marriage will last twelve months unless we mutually decide otherwise or pursue an earlier legal resolution where permitted."
"And at the end?"
"You will be free to decide whether you want to continue."
"Without financial punishment?"
"Your family's agreed support will not be withdrawn merely because you refuse to remain married to me."
She looked up sharply.
"Put that in writing."
"It already is."
She checked the clause again.
It was there.
Isabella continued reading.
"What about children?"
Alessandro's expression changed.
"Children?"
"The agreement says nothing about them. I want it clear that neither of us can demand that from the other."
"Agreed."
"What about physical intimacy?"
The question made the room feel smaller.
Alessandro held her gaze.
"That is not an obligation I intend to impose on you."
"Then it should be stated clearly."
"It can be."
She studied him, searching for mockery.
There was none.
For the first time, she wondered whether his coldness was simply the way he handled uncomfortable subjects.
Or whether he had learned to treat everything human as a problem that could be solved with paperwork.
"Why are you willing to change these terms?" she asked.
"Because I want an agreement you understand before you sign it."
"That sounds almost decent."
"Don't get used to it."
Despite herself, Isabella smiled.
It vanished quickly.
"There's something else."
"Go on."
"I received a phone call yesterday. Someone told me that you were responsible for my father's death."
Alessandro became very still.
"Who called you?"
"I don't know."
"What exactly did the person say?"
She repeated the warning.
By the time she finished, the amusement had disappeared from his face.
"Did the caller identify himself?"
"No."
"Did he mention any details about your father's death?"
"He said I would never learn the truth if I married you."
Alessandro stood and walked toward the window.
For several moments, he said nothing.
Then he turned.
"Did you believe him?"
"I don't know what to believe."
"That is a more intelligent answer than most people would give."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"Take it however you wish."
She placed the contract on the desk.
"I won't sign until you tell me everything you know about my father."
"I have already told you what I can."
"Then I cannot agree to this."
He looked at her for a long moment.
"Your sister's treatment is urgent."
Isabella's face hardened.
"Don't use her against me."
"I'm reminding you of the circumstances."
"No. You're reminding me that you have something I desperately need."
He did not deny it.
She gathered the documents.
"I will have my own lawyer review this. If the agreement is fair, I will consider it. But I won't enter a marriage without understanding the risks."
Alessandro nodded.
"Reasonable."
She stared at him, surprised by the absence of an argument.
"That's all?"
"What else would you like?"
"I don't know. I expected you to threaten me."
His expression darkened.
"I don't need to threaten someone who is capable of making a decision."
The answer stayed with her as Daniel escorted her back toward the elevator.
Just before the doors closed, Alessandro spoke again.
"Isabella."
She turned.
"Yes?"
"Whatever you decide, do not meet the person who called you without telling someone you trust."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
"Because whoever that person is, they know enough about your family to make you a target."
The elevator doors slid shut.
Isabella stood alone in the mirrored compartment, holding the contract against her chest.
She had arrived expecting a monster.
She had found a man who could be reasonable when it suited him, frightening when it didn't, and disturbingly difficult to understand.
She still did not trust him.
But she could no longer dismiss the possibility that someone else was manipulating both of them.
And that possibility frightened her more than she wanted to admit.
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