CHAPTER 1: Choose

  He placed a gun and a diamond ring on the desk between us.

  

  "Choose one, Elira."

  

  Caelum Vane's voice was calm. Too calm. Like he was asking me what coffee I wanted, not deciding whether my family lived or died.

  

  The office was all glass and shadows, 42 floors above the city. His office. The one I had cleaned for three months as an intern. I thought I knew him - the billionaire CEO who never looked at me twice.

  

  I was wrong.

  

  Today he was not in a suit. Well, he was, but his jacket was off, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms covered in black ink and a scar that disappeared under his watch. His eyes were ice-blue and fixed on me. Possessive. Hungry.

  

  I stared at the gun. Black. Heavy. Real. And next to it, a velvet box with a ring that could buy my entire apartment building.

  

  "What is this?" My voice cracked. I was 22 and shaking.

  

  "This is your father's debt." He leaned back in his chair, studying me like I was a contract he was about to sign. "Eight million dollars. He borrowed from me. He cannot pay. In my world, that means I take something equal."

  

  My blood went cold. "My dad... he said it was a bank loan."

  

  "It was never a bank." His lips curved, but it wasn't a smile. It was a threat. "Banks don't break legs. I do."

  

  I took a step back. "I don't have money. You know I don't."

  

  "I know." His eyes dropped slowly - from my eyes, to my lips, to my cheap white blouse that I had ironed for work, to my knees. He looked at me like he owned me already. "That's why I'm offering you a choice."

  

  He tapped the gun. "This. I call my men. They collect the debt from your father. The way we always collect."

  

  Then he tapped the ring box. "Or this. You marry me. One year. Contract marriage. You become Mrs. Caelum Vane. Your father's debt disappears. Your family lives in peace."

  

  My mouth fell open. "Marry you? You don't even know me!"

  

  "I know enough." He stood up, and suddenly the room felt too small. He is 32, tall, built like a weapon. Ten years older than me, and he moved like a predator who had already decided on his prey. "You are 22. Innocent. Broke. You work hard for a family that is drowning. You are exactly what I need."

  

  "For what?"

  

  "For my empire." He walked around the desk until he was right in front of me. I could smell his cologne - dark, expensive, dangerous. "I need a wife. A clean, innocent wife for the board, for the families. And I want you."

  

  My breath hitched when he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers were warm, calloused. He let them linger on my cheek.

  

  "You are trembling, Elira."

  

  "I'm scared of you."

  

  "You should be." He whispered it against my temple, so close his lips almost touched my skin. My whole body shivered, not just from fear. From something else I hated myself for feeling. "But you will be safe as my wife. No one will ever touch you again. Only me."

  

  I looked up at him, tears in my eyes. "This is forced. This is not marriage."

  

  "This is business. And you are out of options, principessa."

  

  Principessa. Princess. The way he said it in his Italian accent made my stomach flip.

  

  He opened the ring box. The diamond inside was huge, oval, surrounded by smaller black diamonds. It didn't look like a love ring. It looked like a collar.

  

  "If you say yes, you move into my penthouse tonight. You will have everything - clothes, money, protection. You just have to play the part of my devoted wife in public."

  

  "And in private?" I whispered.

  

  His eyes darkened. That ice-blue turned to fire.

  

  "In private, you will learn to be mine. Really mine."

  

  He stepped even closer, backing me against the cold glass wall. One hand landed beside my head, caging me in. His other hand - his tattooed, scarred hand - brushed down my arm, leaving goosebumps.

  

  "You have a pretty mouth, Elira. Have you ever been kissed properly?"

  

  I couldn't breathe. "That's not in the contract."

  

  "Everything about you will be in my contract." His thumb brushed my bottom lip, pressing slightly. I gasped, and his eyes dropped to my mouth. "One year. You will sleep in my bed. You will wear my ring. You will not look at another man. You will not leave without my permission. Break any rule, and I punish you."

  

  "Punish?" My voice was barely a sound.

  

  His smile was pure devil. "You will beg for it."

  

  My knees almost gave out. The spice in his voice, the way he looked at me like he wanted to devour me - it was wrong. He was my boss, a mafia monster, ten years older, forcing me to marry him.

  

  So why was heat pooling low in my belly? Why did I want him to press closer?

  

  He saw it. He saw everything.

  

  "Ah." He chuckled, low and dark. "You feel it too. Your body knows who it belongs to, even if your pretty head doesn't yet."

  

  "I don't belong to you!"

  

  "You will." He took my left hand, his grip firm, possessive. Before I could pull away, he slid the ring onto my finger.

  

  It fit perfectly. Like it was made for me.

  

  I stared at it, shining on my hand, heavy and cold.

  

  "There." He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles, his lips hot against my skin. "Now choose, wife. Do you keep the ring, or do you want the gun?"

  

  I knew there was no choice. If I said gun, my dad would die. If I said ring, I would be married to the devil in a suit.

  

  But the way he was looking at me - like I was already his, like he was already obsessed - made me feel something I had never felt. Seen. Wanted. Claimed.

  

  "I..." My voice shook. "I choose the ring."

  

  His eyes flared with pure, dark triumph.

  

  "Good girl."

  

  Then he grabbed my waist, pulled me hard against his chest, and crashed his mouth to mine.

  

  It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. Possessive, hungry, punishing. His tongue forced my lips open, his hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back so he could take more. I whimpered against him, my hands clutching his shirt, and he growled like an animal.

  

  When he finally broke the kiss, we were both breathing hard. My lipstick was smeared. His eyes were wild.

  

  "Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Vane." He whispered against my swollen lips. "You have no idea what you just signed up for."

  

  He let go, picked up the gun, put it in his drawer, and locked it.

  

  The contract was sealed.