Chapter 3: *****

The digital clock on the desk clicked over. 11:57 PM.

"Three minutes, Valentina," Damiano said. He didn't even look at the television screen behind him. His black eyes stayed locked entirely on my face, watching the panic rip through me. "Decide."

On the screen, one of the masked men lifted the steel pipe, resting it lightly against the back of my dad’s neck. My dad flinched, his entire body shaking as a fresh sob racked his chest.

"You're a monster," I choked out, the words burning my throat.

"I'm a man collecting what is owed to him," Damiano replied. He reached down and picked up a heavy, silver fountain pen from a marble tray. The metal glinted under the sharp desk lamp. He held it out to me, balanced perfectly between his long fingers. "Ink or blood. It’s entirely up to you."

My hand shook so hard I could barely guide my fingers around the cold metal casing of the pen. The weight of it felt like a weapon. I pulled the document closer, the words Marriage Contract blurring together under my eyes.

"If I sign this," I whispered, my voice cracking, "you let him go. Right now. No games."

"The moment your name is on that line, Viktor escorted him to the nearest hospital," Damiano said. "You have my word."

"Your word means nothing to me," I spat.

"It's the only currency you have left to trust," he countered, leaning back slightly, his face completely unreadable. "Two minutes."

I looked back at the monitor. My dad’s head was down, his bloody hair matted to his forehead. He didn't deserve this, even if he brought it on himself. He was a fool, a gambler, a liar, but he was my dad. He was the only person I had left in the world.

I hated the man standing across from me with every single cell in my body. The hatred felt hot, thick, and heavy in my chest, replacing the fear that had been paralyzing me just seconds ago.

I pressed the sharp metal nib of the pen onto the signature line. My fingers were slick with nervous sweat, and as I gripped the casing tighter, the sharp edge of the silver clip sliced deep into the meat of my right thumb.

A sharp spike of pain shot up my arm. I gasped, but I didn't let go. I dragged the pen across the paper, forcing my shaking hand to write out my full name. Valentina Rossi.

The ink was black, stark against the cream paper.

"There," I breathed, tossing the heavy pen onto the desk. It rolled, leaving a thin trail of black ink across the polished wood. "It's done. Call them off."

A drop of dark red blood was welling up from the cut on my thumb, pooling quickly. I didn't look for a tissue. I didn't try to hide it. I stared straight into Damiano’s hollow eyes, took my bleeding hand, and slammed my thumb flat down onto the paper, right next to my signature.

The sound was sharp in the quiet office. When I pulled my hand away, a bright, jagged smear of red blood lay directly over the marriage clause.

"There's your down payment," I hissed, leaning over the desk so my face was inches from his. "Enjoy your contract."

Damiano didn't move for a long beat. His gaze dropped from my face down to the paper, staring at the fresh, wet blood covering the document. The cold, bored expression he had maintained the entire night suddenly vanished. His eyes darkened, widening slightly with a sudden, intense interest that sent a fresh wave of adrenaline through my veins.

He didn't look angry. He looked fascinated.

"A blood seal," Damiano murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "Dramatic."

"I want him out of that room," I demanded, pointing a shaking finger at the television screen. "Now! You got what you wanted!"

Damiano stood up. He didn't answer me. Instead, he stepped around the massive black desk, his long strides effortless. I tried to step back, to put space between us, but before I could take a single step, his hand shot out.

His fingers clamped firmly around my jaw, his grip like iron. He didn't squeeze hard enough to break bone, but the pressure was absolute. He forced my head up, tilting my face backward so I had no choice but to look straight into his eyes.

"Let go of me!" I clamped my teeth together, trying to wrench my head out of his grasp, but he didn't budge an inch.

"Quiet," he commanded softly.

He looked down at my face, his eyes scanning every feature, tracking the heavy breathing racking my chest. My heart was pounding so hard I was certain he could hear it. With his free hand, he reached up. His thumb was rough, calloused, and warm against my skin.

He pressed it right against the corner of my mouth, wiping away a stray drop of blood that had splattered onto my lip when I slammed my hand down. He smeared it across his own thumb, staring at the red stain on his skin.

"You've got a lot of fight in you, Valentina," Damiano whispered, his breath hot against my face. His voice dropped to a rough, low rumble that made my skin prickle. "I like that. Let’s see how long it lasts."

"I will never stop fighting you," I promised, my voice shaking with pure rage. "Every single day you keep me here, I will make your life a living hell."

The slow, wicked smile returned to his face, his dark eyes glittering under the dim lights of the office. He finally released my jaw, stepping back just enough to let me breathe, though his presence still completely dominated the space.

"We'll see," Damiano said, pulling a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the blood from his thumb with slow, deliberate movements. "You'll need that energy for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" I asked, my voice rising as a cold dread began to replace my anger.

He tossed the stained handkerchief onto the desk, right next to the bloody contract.

"The engagement party is tomorrow night," Damiano said, watching my face fall. "And the entire city is coming to meet my new bride.”