His Arranged Protection

~~LENA~~“He’s coming today,” my stepmother said.I froze in the middle of the hallway, still wearing yesterday’s clothes. “What?”“Yes, Lena, you heard me right. He’s coming today.” She turned me toward my bedroom door. “So go get dressed. Something tight. Show your curves. Make sure he likes what he sees.”I spun back to face her. “Why do I need to look good for… him?”She rolled her eyes, already walking away. "Don't you want him to like you? We only get one chance to make a good impression, Lena. Don’t ruin this for us.”My chest thudded painfully as I shut the bedroom door behind me and leaned against it, trying to breathe. This couldn’t be happening. Last night I’d overheard my father quietly agreeing to something, a deal, a marriage, whatever it was but I never thought it would move this fast. Today? Now?I searched through my drawers, tossing clothes onto the bed—everything I could grab quickly.Then a screech of tires made my stomach drop.He’s already here? What is this, a s

~~LENA~~I was completely fucked.My hands shook as I pressed my back harder against the man behind me, my heart beating wildly.“Who… who are you?” I whispered, my voice barely holding together.A low, calm voice brushed against my ear, sending ice down my spine. “Someone who should never have been left waiting.”I froze. There was no threat in his tone, only control.“W-What do you want from me?”“I’ve already told your parents what I want.” He tilted his head slightly, his breath warm against my skin. “You. Whether you like it or not.”The irony wasn’t lost on me—not with the echo of the gunshot still ringing in my ears, blood spreading across the pavement, and him holding me like I belonged there.I took a small breath and tried to step away. For a second, he let me.Then—“You’re going with me.”I shook my head. “No.”His hand tightened.“I’m not going anywhere with you.”“You’re mine now.” His voice was calm, almost gentle, which somehow made it worse. “Your parents sold you to

~~ NICCOLÒ~~My fingers tightened around the folder until the edges bit into my palm. The paper creased under the pressure, but I barely felt it.For a moment I just stood there, staring at the closed door.“I’d rather die than marry you.”She had no idea how dangerous those words were in my world. Most people who spoke to me like that didn't live long enough to regret it. Yet something about her defiance stuck to me.Before I could shove the thoughts aside, the door opened again with a soft click.“Boss.”Matteo stepped in, his expression grim as he closed the door with a quiet click I felt more than heard.I tossed the folder onto the table. The sharp slap cut through the room. “How the fuck did they find out about her?”Matteo shut the door fully. “There’s no way they should’ve known this fast. Not unless someone inside talked.”“Within,” I finished for him.He nodded once.I leaned back in the leather chair, forcing a slow breath through my nose. Control. Always control.Panic was

~~LENA~~“What the hell is wrong with you?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.The words came out louder than I expected. My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t breathe properly anymore.Was this really normal to him?The way he ordered a man’s fingers broken without even blinking. The calm in his voice. The blood. All of it.I hadn’t even realized the traitor was gone until the room felt too empty. And now Niccolò was looking straight at me.He closed the distance between us. His long dark hair fell slightly forward, just long enough to brush over his ears. The movement made him look both dangerously beautiful and terrifying. My mouth went dry. “I… I said—”“No, Lena,” he cut me off quietly. “I heard you the first time.”He moved even closer, caging me against the desk without actually touching me. I could smell gunpowder, cologne, and something darker. My hands gripped the edge of the wood behind me until my knuckles hurt.“Since you’ve signed,” he said, eyes fixed on mine, “

~~LENA~~ The car ride was suffocating. I sat stiffly beside Niccolò, the burgundy dress suddenly feeling too tight and exposing. He hadn’t said a word to me since we left the compound. He was on his phone, speaking in Russian and completely in his own world. My eyes kept drifting to him. The sharp line of his jaw. The way his long dark hair fell slightly over his ears. The calm, dangerous way he commanded even a simple phone call. Was he anxious too? I almost laughed at the thought. The great Niccolò Santoro? Anxious? Not possible. My mind wandered further. What was this dinner really going to be like? Was I just a trophy to show off? “Lena!” His sharp voice made me jump. I turned to him, startled. “We’ve arrived,” he said, tilting his head with a faint smirk. “Or were you too anxious to notice?” “That’s not how you start a conversation,” I shot back. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last minute. Seems like you were too busy panicking.” “I’m not