The Rules of Being Mrs. Dimitri

Lorrie couldn't move. She stood there, staring at the hand stretched out toward her. It was the hand of the man she had just willingly sold one year of her life to.

No. Not willingly. *Desperately.*

She had done it for her mother. She had done it for Leo. She had done it for the family she had left behind less than two hours ago. But standing before Lorenzo Dimitri now, feeling the sheer weight of his presence, Lorrie wondered if she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

Steeling her nerves, she finally placed her hand in his. His grip was firm, warm, and surprisingly gentle, yet there was something deeply intimidating about the way his fingers curled around hers. It didn't feel like a mere greeting. It felt like a claim.

Lorenzo released her almost immediately, his hand dropping back to his side. "Maria will show you to your room."

Lorrie’s brows furrowed. "My room?"

A faint, knowing smile appeared on Rosa’s lips. "Oh, dear." She glanced at her grandson, her eyes narrowing playfully. "You're not making your wife sleep alone on her first night, are you?"

Lorenzo’s expression remained entirely unreadable. "She's not my wife."

Rosa gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. "Excuse me?"

He adjusted his silver cufflinks, his voice devoid of emotion. "She's a contractual obligation."

The words hit Lorrie like a physical blow, leaving her face pale. *Contractual obligation.* That was all she was to him. Not a partner, not a companion, not even a friend. Just another business arrangement to be managed.

Rosa smacked his arm sharply. "You rude boy! You married her. That makes her your wife."

Lorenzo shrugged, entirely unbothered. "And after twelve months? She'll be a memory."

The words stung, sharper than Lorrie cared to admit. She clenched her fists, burying the hurt deep down. She shouldn't care. She barely knew him, she didn't love him, and she certainly wasn't planning on falling in love with him. Yet, hearing him dismiss her humanity so casually ignited a quiet spark of rebellion in her chest.

"Fine," she said quietly, her voice steady as she met his gaze. "If that's how you see me, then let's keep things professional."

His steel-gray eyes landed on her, narrowing slightly. *Professional.* Interesting. No woman had ever spoken to him that way. Most women flirted, some begged, and others tried desperately to impress him. But this woman looked at him as though she couldn't wait to be anywhere else in the world. And somehow, that irritated him.

"Follow me," he said flatly. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked up the grand staircase.

Lorrie hesitated for a fraction of a second before following him. As they walked, the mansion seemed endless. Masterpiece paintings lined the walls, crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and everything screamed luxury, wealth, and absolute power.

She felt painfully out of place. She had spent years budgeting pennies for groceries, wearing secondhand clothes, and skipping meals just so Leo could eat. Now, she was walking through a home bigger than her entire neighborhood.

Lorenzo stopped outside a massive pair of dark mahogany double doors. "This is our room."

"Our room?" Lorrie repeated, halting.

"Yes."

She folded her arms over her chest, stepping into his space. "I thought I was just a contractual obligation."

"You are."

"Then why do we have to share a room?"

He opened the door, stepping aside to let her pass. "Because my enemies watch everything. They need to believe we're happily married. And happy couples share bedrooms."

Lorrie stepped inside, and her breath caught. The room was enormous. A massive king-sized bed occupied the center, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering city skyline. A fireplace crackled softly in the corner, illuminating a private sitting area. It looked like a luxury penthouse from a movie.

But all she could focus on was the bed. One bed. One mattress. One year.

She swallowed hard. "We're sleeping together?"

Lorenzo shed his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a chair. "Relax. I don't sleep with women who don't want me."

Lorrie rolled her eyes, her defense mechanism kicking into high gear. "How noble. And I don't sleep with arrogant mafia kings."

He chuckled. It was brief, almost invisible, but it was an actual chuckle. The sound startled them both, and Lorenzo's small smile vanished instantly, his features hardening once more. He walked toward a sleek desk in the corner and pulled out a heavy black folder.

"Sit," he commanded.

She obeyed reluctantly, taking a seat on the edge of a velvet armchair. He placed the folder directly in front of her.

"The rules," Lorenzo stated.

"Rules?"

"There are ten."

Lorrie opened the folder. Her eyes scanned the crisp, printed text.

 ●Rule One:Never discuss syndicate business.

 ●Rule Two:Never enter my office without explicit permission.

 ●Rule Three:Attend every social event by my side.

 ●Rule Four:Wear the clothes provided by my stylist.

 ●Rule Five:Do not embarrass the Dimitri family name.

 ●Rule Six:Never lie to me.

 ●Rule Seven:Never leave the estate without a security detail.

 ●Rule Eight:Do not trust anyone completely.

 ●Rule Nine:If danger arises, obey my orders immediately.

She flipped to the last page, where a single line sat isolated at the bottom.

 ●Rule Ten:Never fall in love with me.

Lorrie blinked. Then, a laugh escaped her lips. A real, genuine laugh.

Lorenzo’s brows knitted together. "What's funny?"

She looked up, meeting his piercing gaze with absolute amusement. "You really think that's a possibility? I've known you for less than an hour, Mr. Dimitri. And so far, you've called me an obligation, a memory, and practically assigned me homework." She stood up, tossing the folder back onto the desk. "I don't need a rule to stop myself from falling in love with you. Trust me, that won't be a problem."

For the first time in his life, Lorenzo Dimitri felt genuinely offended. Women had chased him for years—models, actresses, socialites, even married women. Yet this little bookstore employee looked utterly unimpressed by his wealth, his looks, and his power. It was infuriating. It was also very interesting.

A soft knock interrupted the tense silence. A young maid, Maria, entered the room carrying a dozen high-end shopping bags.

"Mr. Dimitri," Maria whispered nervously. "The dresses have arrived."

Lorrie stared at the influx of luxury brands. There had to be at least twenty bags. "What is all this?"

"Your new wardrobe," Lorenzo replied, sitting back down behind his desk.

"My what?"

"You can't accompany me to high-profile events wearing old jeans and worn-out sneakers," he said smoothly. "I bought you clothes."

She glared at her new husband. "I don't want your money, Lorenzo."

"No?" he countered, a dangerous glint in his eye. "You just married me for free?"

Lorrie opened her mouth to argue, closed it, and then opened it again. He had a point. She hated that he had a point.

Maria smiled nervously, sensing the heavy tension. "I'll just... leave these in the walk-in closet." She bowed her head and quickly exited.

After the door clicked shut, a heavy silence settled between them. Lorrie walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the city. She missed home already. She missed her mother's soft voice, Leo's terrible jokes, and even the cramped, leaky apartment she had spent years complaining about.

A single tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, hoping he wouldn't notice.

But Lorenzo saw. He saw everything.

"Do you regret it?" His voice was softer now, devoid of its usual sharp edge.

She didn't turn around to face him. "Every second."

A long silence stretched between them. Then, a murmur cut through the quiet: "So do I."

Lorrie turned around, surprised. "What?"

Lorenzo looked away, his expression locking down instantly as he shuffled some papers on his desk. "Nothing."

But in that brief, unfiltered moment, Lorrie noticed something she never expected to find in a man like him. Loneliness. It was buried deep behind the cold gray eyes, the arrogance, and the absolute power. Lorenzo Dimitri looked completely alone in his kingdom.

And somehow, that frightened her more than his anger ever could. Because monsters were easy to hate. But broken men? Broken men had a way of stealing hearts.

Lorrie turned back to the window, realizing that surviving one year with Lorenzo Dimitri was going to be much more dangerous than she had ever imagined.