Chapter 6

Dinner with Carlo Nostra quickly became one of the longest evenings of my life.

From the moment we sat down at the elegant table inside the restaurant, it became painfully clear that Carlo enjoyed hearing the sound of his own voice far more than anything I might have to say.

He spoke constantly about his businesses, his influence and the connections his family held across Italy and beyond.

Every story seemed to circle back to the same subject. Himself.

His tone carried a quiet arrogance that made every sentence feel like a lecture rather than a conversation. Several times I tried to offer polite responses, but he barely seemed to notice.

It was as if I were simply another decoration at the table. Just something pretty to look at while he spoke.

The candlelight flickered across the polished surface of the table while the restaurant hummed softly with the conversations of other guests. Expensive wine flowed into our glasses, and dish after dish arrived before us.

Yet the longer the evening continued, the more uncomfortable I felt. It wasn't because of the food but because of the man sitting across from me.

Then suddenly the dinner was interrupted when one of Carlo’s men approached the table quickly and leaned down to whisper something into his ear.

At first Carlo only frowned slightly when he closed his ear at him. Then, one second later his expression changed. The irritation in his face sharpened into anger.

“What did you say?” he asked sharply.

The man repeated the words quietly, making Carlo’s eyes darkened.

“Sin is still alive?” He whispered and the man nodded.

The reaction was immediate.

BRAKK!!!! Carlo slammed his fist against the table so suddenly that the wine glasses rattled.

“Damn it!” he cursed loudly. “I heard that bastard should have been dead years ago!!!”

Several nearby guests turned their heads in surprise, clearly unsettled by the outburst but Carlo continued muttering angrily to himself, cursing the mysterious man named Sin as though the name alone had ruined his entire evening.

I could only stare at him in stunned silence.

Who was Sin?

Why did Carlo react so strongly to the news that he was alive?

For several long seconds Carlo continued speaking harshly to his assistant before suddenly pausing to turn his gaze back at me, like he just seemed to remember that I was still sitting across from him.

His expression shifted almost immediately when I saw the anger disappear behind a practiced smile.

“Sorry about that,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Just business. Enemies always try to cause trouble.”

I nodded politely, though I said nothing. Something about the situation made me uneasy, I can see fake people since I used to show the fakeness expression in front of the camera.

Carlo leaned back in his chair, studying me with renewed interest.

“Speaking of business,” he continued casually, “your uncle recently presented me with a very interesting proposal.”

I raised an eyebrow slightly. “A proposal?”

He nodded. “Yes.” He said then a small smile appeared on his lips. “Our marriage.”

For a moment I thought I had misunderstood him.

“I beg your pardon?”

Carlo leaned forward slightly, clearly amused by my confusion.

“It seems like a very good arrangement,” he said smoothly. “Considering the amount of money you possess and everything we could accomplish by combining our resources.”

The words echoed in my mind.

Marriage... My money...?

I stared at him in shock.

My uncle… Was selling me? For my money? But what did my wealth have to do with marriage?

Had he not always told me that he was successful enough to provide everything I could ever need?

That his business empire was already powerful enough without my inheritance?

Yes, my father had left a large fortune for me, but he said, compared to the wealth Michael constantly described from his own companies, it should have been insignificant.

So why would my marriage benefit him?

The questions began piling together inside my mind faster than I could process them.

When suddenly a sharp pain exploded behind my eyes.

"Argh..!" I winced and reached up to hold my head.

What is happening?

I could feel the room seemed to tilt slightly around me, the candlelight blurred and voices from nearby tables faded into a distant hum.

Why does my head hurt so much?

Fragments of something unfamiliar flashed briefly across my thoughts. Rain, the roar of an engine and the sound of shouting.

My fingers pressed harder against my temple as the pain intensified.

Something inside my mind felt as though it were struggling to break through a locked door.

And whatever waited behind that door was desperate to be remembered.

“Are you okay, Bella?” Carlo’s voice pulled me back to the present.

I quickly nodded, forcing a small smile onto my face even though the dull ache behind my temples had not completely faded.

“I’m just tired,” I said softly. “It has been a very long day.”

Carlo studied me for a moment before nodding in understanding.

“Ah… yes, of course,” he replied. “Forgive me. I suppose asking you to come for espresso afterward would be too much tonight.”

As he spoke, he gave a slow, suggestive wink that made my stomach tighten with discomfort.

Espresso?

Did he mean… more than coffee?

The implication was clear enough that made my fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table.

He was inviting me to his place but it wasn't for coffee but for something else.

I quickly lowered my gaze and offered him a polite, apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

Outwardly I remained calm and composed, just as I had been trained to appear in front of cameras and strangers, but inside, my heart had begun to race.

Oh God... What exactly had my uncle arranged tonight?

Why would he send me here knowing this man clearly expected something more?

The questions circled endlessly inside my mind while Carlo casually returned his attention to the wine in his glass, as though the entire conversation had been nothing more than harmless flirtation.

Yet the unease inside my chest refused to disappear, because for the first time, I could not ignore the terrifying possibility forming in my thoughts.

What if my uncle had never intended this dinner to be just a meeting?

What if… I had been sent here as part of a bargain?

And if that was true—Then what exactly had he promised Carlo Nostra in return?

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