Chapter 3

Elena's POV

I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, the image of Dante effortlessly dismantling those two men outside the St. Regis flashed behind my eyelids. I kept trying to rationalize it as the morning light poured into my bedroom. Maybe he had hired temporary muscle. Maybe those men were loan sharks who realized he didn't have the money yet.

By nine in the morning, I was standing in a private room at City Hall.

Dante walked in right on time. He was dressed in a charcoal suit that fit his tall, broad frame impeccably. There was no trace of exhaustion or anxiety on his face. He looked calm, collected, and dangerously composed.

"Miss Rostova," he said smoothly, stepping up beside me at the clerk's counter.

"Mr. Hayes," I replied, keeping my voice flat and distant.

The marriage clerk pushed two plain gold bands across the desk alongside the legal certificate. "Please exchange the rings to finalize the registration."

I picked up the band meant for him. My fingers brushed his as I slid the metal onto his ring finger. A sudden, warm jolt traveled up my arm, making my heart skip an embarrassing beat. I pulled my hand back instantly, ignoring the unreadable look in his dark eyes as he slid my ring onto my finger with steady, gentle precision.

We signed the document. Just like that, on paper, I was a married woman.

The moment we stepped out into the hallway, I pulled a folded velvet itinerary from my purse and pressed it against his chest. "Tonight is the Rostova Autumn Gala. It is our public debut. Read the schedule and do not be late."

Dante caught the paper between two fingers, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "I won't keep my wife waiting."

At six in the evening, Dante arrived at my penthouse to get ready for the gala.

He moved through my open-concept living room with an easy, quiet authority that completely disrupted the space. I stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows wearing an off-the-shoulder emerald silk gown, watching him adjust his cuffs in the reflection of the glass.

"Listen carefully," I said, turning to face him with my arms crossed. "The entire board of directors will be there tonight. You are supposed to play a quiet, submissive trophy husband. Stand half a step behind me, speak only when spoken to, and let me handle the board."

Dante didn't answer right away. He slowly turned and walked toward me. The space between us shrank until he was standing directly in front of me, his towering presence blocking out the soft twilight behind the window.

"Your necklace is crooked," he said softly.

Before I could pull away, his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of my collarbone as he straightened the diamond strand around my neck. His touch was slow, deliberate, and maddeningly warm. My pulse spiked in my throat, my skin flushing beneath his gaze.

"If you want your uncle and the board to believe this marriage is real, Elena," Dante whispered, leaning down until his lips almost touched my ear, "we can't look like a buyer and her property. We need to look like two people who can't keep their hands off each other."

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to step back and break the spell. "Just follow my lead."

The entrance to the grand ballroom was a chaos of flashing cameras and shouting journalists.

The moment my driver opened the car door, the press exploded. I put on my icy, untouchable smile, slipping my arm through Dante's. To the flashing cameras, we looked like the ultimate power couple—a breathtaking heiress and her mysterious, handsome new husband.

As we stepped into the ballroom, my uncle Victor materialized from the crowd, a glass of champagne in his hand and a cold sneer on his face.

"Elena," Victor purred, his eyes darting over Dante with open contempt. "I heard a rumor that you got hitched in a hurry. I see you brought your new acquisition."

"Uncle Victor," I said smoothly. "Meet my husband, Dante."

"Dante Hayes," Victor said, his tone dripping with fake pity. "The disgraced youngest son. Tell me, Dante, how does it feel to be bought? Living off my niece's trust fund must be a step up from the gutter you've been hiding in for the past three years."

I opened my mouth to cut Victor down with a sharp insult, but Dante reacted first.

Dante didn't raise his voice. He didn't look offended. He simply took a slow step forward, placing a hand lightly on Victor's shoulder. His grip looked casual, but I saw Victor's eyes widen as his shoulder dropped half an inch under sudden, immense pressure.

"Mr. Rostova," Dante said, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp, lethal register that made the air around us turn cold. "It must be stressful watching the company slip through your fingers as Elena's birthday approaches. Be careful with your blood pressure tonight. High society can be very unforgiving to desperate old men."

Victor went dead pale. He looked up into Dante's eyes, and for a second, raw, instinctual terror flashed across my uncle's face. Victor stammered, backed away without another word, and melted into the crowd.

I stared at Dante in disbelief. Victor was a ruthless politician in the corporate world, yet Dante had broken him with two sentences and a glance.

The moment the formal toasts ended, I grabbed Dante by the wrist and pulled him down the quiet hallway into the private VIP holding room, slamming the heavy door shut behind us.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my breath coming fast as three days of built-up panic finally boiled over. "Who were those men in the tactical gear outside the St. Regis yesterday? Why did an entire security detail bow to you? And why did my uncle just look at you like you were going to execute him in the middle of a ballroom?"

Dante didn't answer. He closed the distance between us in two long strides, trapping me against the edge of the mahogany vanity table. He placed his hands on either side of my hips, locking me in place as his dark, intense gaze bored into mine.

"You paid for a husband to keep your enemies away, Elena," Dante murmured, his deep voice vibrating right against my chest as a slow, dangerous smirk touched his lips. "Why are you complaining that the weapon you bought has sharp edges?"