Chapter 3

Serena couldn't sleep.

The master bedroom was bigger than her entire college apartment, with a king-sized bed that could fit a small army. She'd tried sleeping in the sitting area, but the leather chair was harder than it looked. Now she paced the marble floors in the silk pajamas someone had left on the bed—pajamas that fit perfectly and were definitely not hers.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, then immediately regretted it.

Dante stepped through the doorway carrying a silver tray. He'd removed his jacket and tie, leaving him in just his black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The mask was still in place, but somehow he looked more dangerous in the dim lighting.

"You should be sleeping."

"Hard to sleep when your entire life has been turned upside down." She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of how little the silk covered. "What's on the tray?"

"Tea. You looked like you needed it." He set the tray on the side table and poured from an elegant china pot. "Chamomile with honey."

"How did you know I like honey in my tea?"

"I know many things about you, Serena." The way he said her name made her shiver. "Sit."

It wasn't really a request. She perched on the edge of the bed, accepting the warm cup. The tea was perfect—exactly how she made it when she couldn't sleep.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He settled into the chair across from her, studying her with that unnerving intensity. "Now, let's discuss how this works."

"This?"

"Us. Our marriage. Your new life."

Serena set down her teacup with shaking hands. "There is no us. There's just you holding me prisoner."

"Prisoner?" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Prisoners don't get silk pajamas and imported tea."

"Prisoners with better accommodations are still prisoners."

"Fair point." His head tilted, considering. "What if I told you that you could leave anytime you wanted?"

Her heart jumped. "I could?"

"Of course. The door isn't locked. The elevator works both ways." He paused, letting hope bloom in her chest. "Of course, walking away means forfeiting my protection."

"Protection from what?"

"From the very angry people who want to collect on your husband's debts. From the families who see you as a loose end. From the man who just sold his wife to a stranger." His voice was casual, but his words hit like ice water. "The moment you step outside my protection, you become fair game."

The hope died. "So I'm not really free."

"Freedom is relative, cara mia." The endearment rolled off his tongue like velvet. "But I can offer you something better."

"What?"

"Power."

The word hung in the air between them. Serena stared at him, trying to read his expression behind the mask.

"I don't understand."

"As my wife, you're untouchable. No one would dare harm you. You'd have resources beyond your imagination, influence that reaches into every corner of this city." He stood and moved closer to the bed. "You'd never have to depend on anyone again."

"Except you."

"Partnership, not dependence." He sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that she could feel his body heat. "I don't want a helpless little bird, Serena. I want an equal."

"Equals don't get bought at auctions."

"No," he agreed. "But sometimes they get rescued from them."

His hand moved to her face, fingers tracing along her cheek. She should pull away, should slap him, should do anything except lean into his touch like she was starving for it.

"Tell me the rules," she whispered.

"Rule one." His thumb brushed across her lower lip. "You share my bed."

Her breath caught. "I won't—"

"Not for sex. Not until you want to." His eyes held hers. "But you sleep here, beside me. I need to know you're safe."

The gentleness in his voice surprised her. "Rule two?"

"You don't lie to me. Ever. I'll know if you do."

"How?"

"I always know." His hand moved to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. "Rule three: you trust me to protect you."

"That's not really a rule, that's faith."

"Same thing." He leaned closer, and she could see the green flecks in his dark eyes. "Rule four: you let me take care of you."

"I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" His voice was soft, almost sad. "When's the last time someone took care of you, Serena? Really took care of you?"

The question hit harder than she expected. She couldn't remember. Even in her marriage, she'd been the one managing everything, handling everything, fixing everything.

"That's what I thought." His forehead almost touched hers. "Let me."

"Why?" The word came out as a whisper. "Why do you care?"

"Because you're mine now. And I protect what's mine."

"I'm not a possession!"

"No," he agreed. "You're so much more than that."

Before she could ask what he meant, his lips were on hers.

The kiss was soft at first, questioning. Then her hands fisted in his shirt and he groaned against her mouth. His tongue traced her lower lip and she opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss until her head spun.

He tasted like danger and promises and something achingly familiar.

When they broke apart, she was breathing hard.

"That's rule five," he said against her lips.

"What is?"

"When I kiss you, you kiss me back."

Her hand moved without thinking, connecting with his cheek in a sharp slap that echoed through the room.

He caught her wrist before she could pull away, his grip firm but not painful. The mask had shifted slightly from the impact, and she caught a glimpse of a scar along his jaw.

"Better," he said, approval in his voice.

"Better?"

"I was wondering when you'd stop being polite and start fighting." His thumb traced circles on her wrist. "I don't want a doormat, Serena. I want fire."

She tried to jerk away, but he held firm. The position pulled her closer to him, until she was practically in his lap.

"Let go."

"Not yet." His free hand cupped her face. "Look at me."

"I am looking at you. As much as I can with that ridiculous mask."

"The mask stays on. For now."

"Why?"

"Because some revelations are worth waiting for." His breath was warm against her neck. "And tomorrow, we make this official."

"Official how?"

"Tomorrow you become my wife. The ceremony is already arranged."