Chapter 2

Selene POV

I spent three days pretending the world hadn't ended.

Three days of dragging myself to classes I couldn't concentrate on, picking at meals that tasted like cardboard, and dodging concerned looks from my roommate Jessica. Three days of my phone buzzing with texts from Dario that I deleted without reading.

By Thursday morning, I'd almost convinced myself I was fine.

Almost.

The coffee shop near campus buzzed with its usual chaos of students cramming for midterms and freelancers camping out with laptops. I claimed my usual corner table, spreading my marketing textbooks across the scarred wood surface like armor. If I buried myself deep enough in consumer behavior theories and brand positioning strategies, maybe I could forget the way Dario's hands had moved across another man's skin.

Focus, Selene. You have a presentation tomorrow.

But the words on the page kept blurring together, and every time someone laughed too loud or a chair scraped against the floor, I jumped like a startled cat. My nerves were shot. Everything felt too bright, too loud, too much.

I was highlighting a passage about target demographics when a shadow fell across my table.

"Miss Marcellus?"

I looked up to find a man in an expensive charcoal suit standing beside my chair. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with silver hair slicked back and eyes the color of winter. Everything about him screamed money and authority, from his Italian leather shoes to the way he held himself like he owned the world.

He definitely didn't belong in a college coffee shop.

"Yes?" My voice came out steadier than I felt, which was a small miracle considering the way he was looking at me like he was cataloging every detail of my face.

"You're requested for a meeting." His voice was professionally polite, but there was something underneath it that made my skin crawl. "If you would come with me, please."

"I'm sorry, who are you?" I closed my textbook, suddenly very aware that I was alone in a crowded room with a complete stranger who somehow knew my name. "What meeting?"

"My employer would like to speak with you. About a matter of mutual interest."

The way he said 'employer' made it sound like a threat wrapped in silk. "I think you have the wrong person. I don't have any meetings scheduled, and I definitely don't know your"

"It concerns Dario Santoro."

My blood turned to ice. Three days. Three days since I'd walked out of that apartment, and now somehow Dario's people were tracking me down. Had he sent his family's lawyers after me? Was I being served with some kind of lawsuit?

"Look, whatever Dario told you, whatever he thinks I did"

"This isn't about what you did, Miss Marcellus." The man's smile was thin and sharp as a blade. "It's about what you're going to do."

Fear crawled up my spine like cold fingers. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't know who you are or what you want, but"

"Vincent Torrino." He reached into his jacket, and for one terrifying moment I thought he was going for a weapon. Instead, he pulled out a business card—heavy black cardstock with silver lettering. "And this wasn't really a request."

I didn't take the card. Couldn't. My hands were shaking too badly.

"You know where I go to school," I said, hating how small my voice sounded. "You know my schedule. What else do you know?"

"Your mother works double shifts at Mount Sinai. Your brother Marcus has soccer practice until six. Your rent is three months behind, and your student loans are"

"Stop." The word came out sharp and panicked. "Just stop."

Vincent's smile widened. "The car is outside. Black sedan, license plate 7GTH-429. You have two minutes to gather your things."

"And if I don't?"

"Then we'll have this conversation at your mother's workplace instead. I imagine that would be... inconvenient for her."

The threat was delivered so casually, so politely, that it took a moment for the full weight of it to hit me. They knew where my mother worked. They knew about Marcus. They knew about our financial situation information that should have been private.

These weren't lawyers. This was something else entirely.

With trembling hands, I shoved my books into my bag. Vincent waited patiently, like he had all the time in the world, but I could feel the countdown ticking in my chest. Two minutes. Maybe less now.

The black sedan was exactly where he'd said it would be, idling at the curb like a predator waiting to strike. The windows were tinted dark enough that I couldn't see inside. Vincent opened the back door for me with mock politeness.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I slid across leather seats that probably cost more than my entire tuition.

"Downtown." Vincent climbed into the passenger seat, and I noticed the driver didn't acknowledge either of us. Professional. Silent. The kind of person who was very good at not seeing or hearing things.

The city blurred past the windows as we drove through Manhattan traffic. I tried to memorize street signs, landmarks, anything that might help me later, but my brain felt fuzzy with fear. This was really happening. I was in a car with strangers who knew things about my family they had no right to know, heading toward a destination I might not come back from.

Why? That was the question burning in my chest. Why would Dario's family want to see me? What could they possibly gain from threatening a broke college student?

The car pulled up in front of an elegant restaurant in Midtown—the kind of place where dinner cost more than I made in a week. Cristallo, according to the discreet gold lettering on the windows. Through the glass, I could see white tablecloths, crystal chandeliers, and waiters moving like dancers through the dining room.

"Second floor," Vincent said as he held the door open for me. "Private dining room. He's waiting."

He. Not Dario, then. Someone else. Someone important enough to send professional muscle to collect college students from coffee shops.

The hostess barely glanced at me before gesturing toward a staircase at the back of the restaurant. My sneakers squeaked against marble floors, and I felt painfully out of place among the silk dresses and designer suits.

The private dining room was smaller than I'd expected, elegant in the way that only came from old money and older power. A single table sat in the center, set for two with fine china and crystal glasses that caught the light from the chandelier above.

And there, standing with his back to me while he gazed out the window at the city below, was the most imposing man I'd ever seen.

He was tall at least six-foot-three with dark hair threaded with silver and a build that suggested he'd been dangerous once and might still be. His suit was perfectly tailored, charcoal wool that made Vincent's expensive outfit look cheap by comparison. Even motionless, he radiated authority in a way that made the air feel heavy.

"Miss Marcellus." He didn't turn around, but somehow my entrance hadn't surprised him. "Please, sit."

It wasn't a request.

I remained standing, my bag clutched against my chest like a shield. "I want to know who you are and why I'm here."

"I'm Caspian Santoro." He turned then, and I found myself looking into the coldest gray eyes I'd ever seen. Eyes that belonged to a man who'd seen too much and done worse. "Dario's father."

My knees went weak. Dario's father. The man whose son had just destroyed my heart was standing across from me like a king holding court, and I was very clearly not an invited guest.

"You're going to marry my son," he said, as casually as he might comment on the weather.

The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?"

"The engagement will be announced next week. Arrangements are being made." He moved to the table, pulling out a chair with fluid grace. "Sit. We have details to discuss."

"You're insane." The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Dario and I broke up. We're done. Finished. And even if we weren't, you can't just decide"

"I can decide whatever I choose to decide." His voice didn't rise, but something in it made me take a step backward. "The breakup was... inconvenient. But not permanent."

"Inconvenient?" I laughed, but it came out sharp and bitter. "Your son is gay. He's been lying to me for months. There's nothing to fix here."

"Sexual preferences are irrelevant." Caspian sat down, gesturing again to the empty chair across from him. "Marriage is a business arrangement. Nothing more."

The casual dismissal of everything I'd felt, everything I'd lost, made anger flare hot in my chest. "Maybe in your world, but not in mine. I'm not marrying anyone I don't love, especially not someone who"

"Your world?" Caspian's smile was sharp as a blade. "My dear girl, you don't have a world anymore. You have what I allow you to have."

The quiet menace in his voice made my skin crawl. "You can't force me to marry him."

"Can't I?"

Something in the way he said it made my blood turn to ice. I thought about Vincent's casual mention of my mother's workplace, my brother's schedule, our financial situation. These people knew things about my family that they shouldn't know. They'd found me, followed me, brought me here against my will.

What else were they capable of?

"I don't understand," I whispered. "Why does it matter? Why do you care if Dario and I are together?"

"Because certain arrangements have been made. Certain expectations established." Caspian's fingers drummed against the white tablecloth. "Your presence in his life serves a purpose beyond your understanding."

"What purpose?"

"That's not your concern."

I stared at him, trying to process what was happening. This man Dario's father was talking about marriage like it was a business transaction, like I was a commodity to be traded. The reasonable part of my brain was screaming that this couldn't be real, couldn't be happening. But the fear crawling up my spine told a different story.

"I won't do it," I said, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "You can't make me."

Caspian reached into his jacket, and I tensed, but he only pulled out a manila envelope. "Your mother's medical bills," he said, sliding it across the table. "Quite substantial, aren't they? And your brother's scholarship application for St. Andrews Prep impressive boy. It would be a shame if something happened to jeopardize his future."

The envelope sat between us like a landmine. I didn't need to open it to know what was inside proof that they had reached into every corner of my life, catalogued every vulnerability, every pressure point.

"You're threatening my family."

"I'm offering solutions." Caspian leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed. "Your family's financial difficulties disappear. Your brother gets the education he deserves. Your mother receives the best medical care available. All you have to do is play a role."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then complications arise." His gray eyes were arctic. "Complications have a way of multiplying, particularly for families who are already struggling."

The room felt like it was closing in around me. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to run, but where could I go? He'd already proven he could find me anywhere, could reach my family whenever he chose.

I stood up on shaking legs, my chair scraping against the floor. "I need time to think."

"Of course." Caspian didn't move, didn't try to stop me. "You have until tomorrow evening to make your decision. I suggest you choose wisely."

I was halfway to the door when his voice stopped me cold.

"Oh, and Selene?" The way he said my name made something shiver down my spine. "Your father would be disappointed if you refused."

I turned around slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. "My father is dead."

Caspian's smile was all teeth and shadows.

"Is he?"