Invalid Pact, Irresistible Pull

"I'm starting now."

Tommaso Volpe's voice pierced through the darkness. His tone was icy, as if this were a formal business meeting. I closed my eyes and let his hands roam freely against my skin.

It had been like this for five years now. Each time was no different from the other, like a mechanical clockwork sans emotion.

Moonlight filtered through the blinds onto the Eralian marble floors of the bedroom. Even the air felt suffocating.

"Is this okay?" He asked for consent like this was official business, and I nodded, just like I had on countless nights before. This was our routine, our obligation—a clause clearly outlined in our contract. Tommaso began, and my mind had already drifted elsewhere.

At tonight's family dinner, he sat at the head of the table as always, and I sat beside him like we were the perfect couple. Everyone envied us, for the marriage between the Don of the Volpe family and the daughter of the Gallo family created the most powerful mafia alliance.

However, they didn't know that this marriage had only been a transaction from the very beginning. We signed the five-year contract with mutual consent. Tommaso needed the Gallo family's influence at the docks to solidify his position, and my family needed the Volpe family's protection to expand our territory.

Tommaso's breathing grew heavier, and I simply endured it in silence.

I thought of Marco Damiano. His gentle kisses, his promise to give me the most beautiful love in the world… If he were still alive, we would have children by now.

But Marco was dead. He died on that bloody, violent night five years ago, killed by a rival family's gun. He'd rushed out to protect me from a bullet meant for my heart.

"I'm sorry..." I finally couldn't take it anymore, so I spoke softly. "I can't do this. Can we stop?"

Tommaso immediately stopped and pulled away from me. He uttered, his voice carrying a hint of apologetic guilt, "Mi dispiace."

He got up and walked to the bathroom. The sound of running water followed soon after.

His heart belonged to someone else, too. That someone was his adopted sister, Gelsomina Volpe. She had needed his protection.

And that was how this deal could work… Because when personal feelings from the participating parties were not at play, the transaction could be easily established.

I put on my silk robe and walked to the safe on the wall, pulling out a document I'd prepared long ago. It was our marriage dissolution agreement.

The five-year contract was about to expire. Tommaso had the person he loved, and my heart would always belong to Marco.

We each had our obsessions. This marriage was nothing more than a transaction—a contractual obligation.

The bathroom door opened, and Tommaso emerged wrapped in a towel. I was about to speak when his phone suddenly rang. The ringtone was piercing and was especially jarring in the quiet of the night.

"Tommaso!" Gelsomina's hysterical crying came through the phone. "Save me! I'm at the club. I overdosed!"

Tommaso's expression changed instantly. "Which club are you at? I'm on my way!"

"Rosa di Mezzanotte! Tommaso, I feel terrible. I'm dying!" Gelsomina's crying grew louder.

Tommaso threw on his clothes, fumbling for his car keys.

"Tommaso." I stopped him. "We need to talk. Just give me five minutes.

"Gelsomina needs me!" Gelsomina's cries came through the phone again, and Tommaso cut me off irritably, his eyes filled only with urgency. "Whatever it is, you can decide. You don't need to ask me."

I held the document out in front of him. "Then please sign this."

Tommaso didn't even look at it. He grabbed the pen from the table and scrawled his signature on it. Then, he rushed out of the room, and I listened to his footsteps until they faded down the hallway.

I looked at the careless signature and picked up my phone to call Aldo Ricci, the family lawyer.

"The agreement has been signed and is now in effect. Please handle the relevant procedures immediately." My voice was perfectly calm as I continued, "Also, book me a private jet to New Faye one month from now."

I hung up and walked to the window. The city glowed in vibrant neon colors as the night scenery stretched out below, its lights flickering ever so often.

I thought about what my friend, Elena Esposito, told me last week. She mentioned that there was a scholarship student at Sarton University who looked like Marco, had the same eyes as him, and even had the same smile.

After the contract ended, I wanted to go look for him, even if it meant I had to resort to extreme means to make him mine. Maybe it was crazy. But if I could see that face every day, even hell would feel like heaven.