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Gianna 

“God—yes, right there!”

The moan froze me at the doorway of my hotel suite. For a second, I thought I was imagining things—that maybe the champagne from the party downstairs was messing with my head. But then came another voice. Low. Masculine. Breathless.

Luca’s voice.

My fingers trembled on the handle as the sounds grew clearer—wet, reckless, shameless.

I pushed the door open just enough to see. And there he was—my fiancé of only a few hours, the man I had defended to everyone—buried inside Sophia Rossi. The model I had given up everything for him to build. The girl I had trusted.

Her legs were wrapped around him like she was born to be there. His hands gripped her thighs, his mouth on her breasts, their rhythm frantic and careless, as if the world outside didn’t exist.

“I bet your stupid fiancée has never let you fuck her like this,” Sophia gasped, her voice slicing through me like glass.

“I don’t care about her,” Luca groaned, driving harder into her. “All I care about is you.”

The tears came hot and fast. I didn’t even realize they had spilled until one landed on my hand, cool against my skin. I should’ve stormed in, screamed, thrown something—anything. But my body wouldn’t move.

I just stood there, hidden by the half-open door, watching the man I thought I would marry tear my heart apart with every thrust.

Everything I had given up—my career, my pride, my future—collapsed in that moment, and all I could do was break silently with it.

I slipped out of the room, careful not to make a sound, and forced myself back to the engagement party. I plastered a smile on my face, waltzing through the crowd as if nothing had happened, even though I was shattering inside.

I didn’t return to my suite until midnight. By then, Luca and Sophia walked in together, all smiles, like they hadn’t just been fucking in the bed that was supposed to be ours.

“Congratulations, Gianna,” another model gushed as she passed me.

I flashed a wry smile, holding back the tears that brimmed in my eyes, then stood and left, heading to another suite.

My phone buzzed with a new message from Luca. I stared at the screen before shoving it back into my pocket.

We’ll meet at the registry at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow. Sophia has some things to do for her show.

I sniffed hard, pushing the door open to the empty room. The weight of it all crushed me as I collapsed onto the bed, finally letting the sobs tear through me.

.

.

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Next Day 

8:00, I was already at the registry, a pale white dress and a bouquet in my arms, but my fiance was nowhere to be found.

5 hours later and 30 missed calls to him, but none of them were attended to, I made up my mind, and stood up to leave. Maybe this was all for the better, when my eyes caught Dante Russo, standing by his car with his assistant, Daniel.

"What are you going to do sir, you need a bride before the day ends and grandfather will not listen to any excuse?" His assistant complained, staring at his wrist watch.

"Call anyone of the eligible ladies in the city," His deep husky voice cut through, the sunlight that fell across the pavement caught the sharp lines of his face, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

 Dante Russo. The name itself carried weight—the heir to one of the most powerful families in the city, the man everyone whispered about but never dared approach.

“Call anyone?” Daniel repeated, his voice rising. “Sir, you can’t just pull a bride out of thin air. People will talk. The press is already outside—”

Dante’s jaw tightened, his eyes cold and unbothered. “Then let them talk. Grandfather wants a wedding before sunset, and I won’t waste time begging women to play the part.”

Something in me snapped. Maybe it was the humiliation of waiting five hours for a man who never showed up. Maybe it was the sting of betrayal that still burned like salt in an open wound. Or maybe… maybe it was the desperate need to prove—to myself, to Luca, to the entire world—that I wasn’t broken.

Before I knew it, my feet carried me closer. My bouquet trembled in my grip, but my voice came out steady.

“I’ll do it.”

Both men turned. Daniel blinked at me in shock, but Dante’s gaze pinned me in place. Dark, assessing, unreadable. It was like he was stripping me bare with just his eyes, and suddenly, the weight of what I’d said crashed over me.

“You’ll do what?” Dante asked, his voice deep and sharp, like the edge of a blade.

“I’ll marry you,” I said, my throat dry but my words firm. “You need a bride before the day ends. I need…” My voice faltered for a second, but I forced myself to finish. “I need a husband.”

Daniel gawked, but Dante didn’t flinch. He stepped closer, the air shifting with his presence. His eyes scanned me once, taking in the pale dress, the bouquet clutched like a lifeline, the mascara-stained cheeks I hadn’t even bothered to fix.

“You look like a woman running from something,” he said finally.

“I am.”

Silence stretched between us. The world around me faded—the chatter of people coming and going, the buzzing of cars, the heat of the sun. There was only him, this dangerous man with a storm in his eyes, and me, broken but still standing.

Then Dante turned to Daniel. “Get me her information and prepare the papers.”

“Sir—”

“Now.”

Daniel sighed, muttering under his breath as he pulled out his phone. But Dante’s attention never left me.

“You should know what you’re offering, Gianna,” he said quietly, almost like a warning. “My name comes with power. But it also comes with enemies. Once you step into my world, there is no going back.”

I swallowed hard. My world had already shattered. What did I have left to lose?

“I’m not asking to go back,” I whispered. “I’m asking for a way forward.”

His lips curved—not into a smile, but something sharper, almost dangerous. “Then congratulations,” Dante murmured. “You just became a Russo.”