An Offer From A Stranger

Episode Two

CHIARA

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Someone who doesn't want you to catch pneumonia," the stranger said.

"Is this supposed to be a joke? Because it's not funny." I glared back at the gray-eyed stranger, rain running down the back of my neck.

"Of course not, Miss Vance. Get in, and I'll tell you who I am and how I can help you."

I didn't move right away. Somewhere behind me was a hotel full of people who had just watched me run out on my own wedding, and in front of me was a stranger who somehow already knew my name. Neither option felt like the safe one.

I had already made the decision of almost getting married to a cheating scumbag who lied to my face for seven years, so I didn't think getting into a car with a good-looking stranger was any worse.

The door shut behind me, sealing out the rain. The cabin smelled like cedarwood and leather, warm compared to the storm outside. Water dripped steadily off my veil onto the seat, and I didn't care.

He didn't offer me a towel. He didn't offer sympathy. He just watched me, waiting for me to speak first.

"You said you'd tell me who you are," I said, my voice tighter this time.

"Someone who's offering you a way out," he said calmly. "Unless you prefer one of the reporters finding the eldest daughter of Arthur Vance standing out in the rain looking like a ruined bride."

I studied him, taking in the unhurried way he sat, like nothing in the world could rush him, like the storm outside the hotel wasn't happening at all.

"You knew I'd get in this car before I did, didn't you?" I asked, my fists clenching in the wet silk of my gown.

"I hoped," he replied smoothly. "I didn't know."

"Why?"

"Because I have a proposition for you."

"I'm not listening to any proposition until you tell me your name."

"Alessio," he said simply. Nothing else. No surname, no title.

I stared at him in disbelief. "Alessio? That's it? You pull me off the street, you know who I am, you know my father's firm, and you won't even give me your last name?"

"You'll have it soon enough," he said, his gaze remaining steady. "The name isn't what matters right now. What matters is whether you want what comes with it."

"Want what?"

"Marry me."

The words sat there between us, absurd and cold.

"Stop the car," I said immediately.

"Excuse me?"

"I said stop the car, or I will open this door and jump out while it's moving."

He leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "Is that supposed to frighten me, Miss Vance?"

"Try me," I snapped, leaning closer to the door handle. "I have nothing left to lose tonight, and I guarantee the cameras outside the St. Regis already caught me getting in."

Something flickered behind his gray eyes, not fear, but something closer to respect.

"Stop the car, Hector," he commanded quietly.

The Maybach pulled to the curb. I shoved the door open and stepped straight back into the downpour, my dress dragging heavy and wet against my legs. I heard the car door shut behind me, his footsteps following without hurry, like he already knew I wouldn't get far.

"Where are you going, Miss Vance?" he called out through the rain.

"Are you insane, asking me to marry you like that?" I stopped.

"No."

I spun around, completely unraveling. Tears of frustration finally mixed with the cold rain streaming down my face.

"Why do you even care?!" I shouted, my voice cracking under the raw weight of the night. "Leave me alone! I am done being used! I spent seven years building a life for a man who turned around and destroyed me with my own sister! I am not letting another stranger use me for whatever game he's playing!"

He didn't step back. He didn't smirk this time.

"Then use me," he said, his tone dropping into something quiet and deadly serious. "Take my name. Take my money. Put all of it between you and every person who has spent years keeping your mother's shares away from you."

I went still. The rain felt like it froze mid-air around us.

"My mother's... what?" I asked, genuine confusion cutting through my anger. "What shares?"

Alessio said nothing. He simply stood there in the downpour, watching me, letting the silence hang between us like a weapon.

"What are you talking about?" My breath hitched in my chest as a sickening feeling settled in my stomach. "What shares? What else do you know about my family that I don't?"

He deflected, refusing to clarify. "I know enough."

"That's not an answer!"

"You want revenge, Chiara?" he asked, holding out his hand to me in the storm. "Take my hand and bleed them dry."

I looked at his hand. Then I looked back toward the hotel lights blurring behind the rain, where Levi and Lillian were probably still in Suite 402, celebrating how easily they had fooled me.

"What do you actually get out of this?" I asked, my voice trembling from the bitter cold. "What's your angle?"

"I get what I need," he replied, giving me no real explanation at all. It felt uncomfortable, dark, and dangerous.

"And if I say no?" I pushed. "What if I walk away right now?"

"Then you walk back into that hotel soaking wet," Alessio said, laying out the ugly reality without an ounce of pity. "And by tomorrow morning, your father and Levi will have spun this story to save themselves. Levi still has your signature on those merger papers, and you'll spend the next year watching them rebuild while you take the blame."

My jaw tightened. Every word he said was true, and I hated him a little for saying it so plainly.

"You make it sound so simple," I whispered through gritted teeth.

"It is simple," he said, stepping closer until I had to tilt my head back to look at him. "You just hate hearing it because you've spent seven years convincing yourself that suffering for ungrateful people makes you noble."

I flinched at the blow. He noticed, and for the first time, something almost like restraint crossed his face, as if he had meant to land the hit, but didn't enjoy seeing me bleed.

"If I take your hand," I said slowly, wiping the rain from my eyes, "I make the rules. All of them."

A faint, dry trace of a smile touched his lips. "I would expect a lawyer to try."

The rain kept falling around us, soaking through what was left of my dress, my veil clinging uselessly to my shoulder. Behind me was a hotel full of people who had already decided who I was tonight: fragile, humiliated, easy to write a story about. In front of me was a stranger who apparently knew more about my own family than I did, offering me his hand and nothing else.

I thought of Levi's voice through that half-open door. Chiara sees what she wants to see.

I thought of Lillian's laugh. She actually thinks this wedding is about love.

I put my hand in his.

His fingers closed around mine, warm despite the cold rain running down both our wrists, and something about the certainty in his grip made my pulse stutter in a way I didn't have time to examine.

"Good," he said quietly. "Now get back in the car before you catch pneumonia in that dress."

I rolled my eyes. "Why do you care if I catch pneumonia?"

"I don't. But in thirty minutes, you will be my wife, and I can't have a sick wife by my side."

"You still haven't given me your last name," I reminded him as he held the door open.

"No," he agreed smoothly, looking down at me with those unreadable gray eyes. "I haven't."