Chapter 2

Dante’s POV

l swirled the drink on my glass, watching the woman on stage but she didn't have my attention. 

Its been a long day of dealing with cleaning up some traitors who thought crossing me wouldn't have consequences and all I wanted was ten quiet minutes with a glass of scotch before heading back to the compound.

Then the doors opened, bringing in a different energy as a few men around me turned to look but I didn’t turn my head right away. 

In my line of work, you learn to observe the world through reflections and peripheral shadows first. But the moment she stepped into the light of the club, my hand stilled on my glass.

Marcella Evans.

I recognized her instantly. Her photo has been sitting on my desk for the past three weeks, the q

 daughter of Richard Evans, the man who owes my syndicate more money than his pathetic business could generate in three lifetimes. 

My wife to be.

The marriage contract was already drawn up and signed by me and her father.

He needed the money and I needed a wife to secure my position not that I have any contenders because none of the people who've tried to take me on have lived to tell the tail but I didn't need somebody to look good in my arms and she's that lucky woman.

Her father painted her as a submissive, obedient girl who would do whatever she was told.

The woman currently storming into the bar, her cheeks flushed red and eyes burning with rebellion, was anything but submissive in my opinion.

She wore jeans, heels, and a crop top, her hair falling around her shoulders and she looked completely out of place among the sinful man and half naked women here, but she carried herself with a fierce, reckless energy that immediately commanded the room.

I leaned back into the shadows, taking a slow sip of my drink as I watched her down a shot at the bar with her cousin.

 I could hear snippets of their heated whispers over the quiet jazz music. She was complaining about her father, about her ruined freedom, and about me.

When her eyes finally drifted across the club and landed on mine, I didn’t look away. I let my eyes  lock on hers, watching the way her breath caught in her throat and the way she tried to hide her reaction to me.

Smart people usually see the danger that I pose and the run from me but she stood up a few minutes later and walked towards my private table.

I leaned back, resting my arm over the back of the couch l was on, watching her approach like a little lamb striding right into the lion's den. Up close, she smelled like jasmine, roses and tequila. Her hands were trembling slightly, but her chin was held high.

"Can I help you, principessa?" I asked, letting my accent run thick, deliberately testing how much pressure it took to break her composure.

"I need a husband right now," she blurted out, her voice shaking only a little despite the fear dancing in her eyes. "And you look like a man who wouldn’t mind making a bad decision for ten thousand dollars."

I stared at her for a second with a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. Ten thousand dollars?

"Ten thousand dollars?" I repeated, crossing my arms over my chest. "And why is a beautiful woman like you so desperate to buy a husband in the middle of the night?"

After the day I had I needed something to laugh about and this woman right here gave me one.

"Because my father is selling me off tomorrow morning," she snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. "l'm supposed to marry a ruthless monster.

 He's probably some old, disabled unfit man who can barely walk or even get it up." I haven't laughed in ages but I couldn't help but laugh.

Cruel, I had heard before.

Ruthless. Heartless. A monster.

But an…old man?

That was a first.

 I don't know who's feeding her this nonsense or if she's just saying this to exaggerate the situation.

"That sounds horrible." l said and she sat down and kept on and on venting completely oblivious to the fact that she was complaining about me, to me.

She genuinely thought she was outsmarting the Godfather.

Because she has a whole thought up plan about how her father and her fiance will react but at least she did one good thing despite being stupid enough to ask a stranger to try and marry her.

And that's avoiding talking about the mafia because she was talking about how dangerous and Powerful this man is but when I asked her who this man was she just pretended it was some big shot businessman.

I leaned forward slowly, closing the distance between us until she had to tilt her head back just to keep eye contact.

 I let my eyes trail lazily down her face, enjoying the redness that crept up her cheeks under my gaze.

"An old decrepit man, hmm?" I murmured, my voice dropping as a slow, wicked smirk spread across my face. "Sounds like a nightmare, principessa."

"It is," she said, trying to hold her ground despite how nervous she was. "So are you going to help me or not?"

If I had any sense, I would have my men take her back to her father's house right then. But looking down at the fire in her eyes, at the sheer, beautiful defiance radiating off her, I find it amusing.

Her father had promised me a docile bride.

Instead, I had found a woman willing to walk up to a stranger and offer him ten thousand dollars to ruin her own wedding.

I was beginning to think Evans had no idea what he was handing over.

My arranged bride was turning out to be rather entertaining.

Why spoil it?

I reached into my suit jacket and pulled out some money and threw it on the table without breaking eye contact.

"Keep your ten thousand," I said, watching her eyes widen. "But if we do this, wifey, we do it on my terms."