Wife for him

Carlo Bianchi stood hesitantly before the large door. His palms were sweating even though the night air was cold. The suit he wore looked neat, but it could not hide the tension in his stiff shoulders. Two large men stood on either side of the door, their faces expressionless, their sharp eyes watching Carlo's every move. One of them opened the door without saying a word.

Carlo stepped inside. Alexandro De Luca was lounging on a large dark-colored sofa. One button of his shirt was undone, his tie loosened. A scantily dressed woman was on top of him, her long hair falling to cover part of her face. A soft laugh filled the room, deeply seductive.

Alexandro lifted his hand slightly when he realized someone had entered. The woman stopped and turned toward the door, then looked at Carlo.

"Leave," Alexandro said shortly.

The woman got off without protest, straightening her clothes with a blank expression. She glanced briefly at Carlo, then walked out through the side door.

The room fell silent again. Alexandro leaned back against the sofa, staring at Carlo without expression.

"Sit," Alexandro said.

Carlo obeyed. He sat on the chair opposite the sofa, his back straight but tense. His legs shifted restlessly. Alexandro picked up a glass from the table and took a calm sip of his drink.

"I came to ask for time," Carlo said.

Alexandro raised an eyebrow slightly. "Time," he repeated flatly.

"Yes. Just a little. I will pay everything off. I promise," Carlo said, swallowing.

Alexandro set the glass down, the sound of glass touching the table clearly audible.

"You have asked for time three times already," he said quietly.

Carlo lowered his head. "My business has not gone the way I expected."

"That is not my concern," Alexandro replied.

"I know," Carlo cut in quickly. "But I am looking for a way. I..."

"Carlo," Alexandro interrupted.

That single word was enough to silence him.

"Your debt is not small, and the interest does not stop running just because you keep asking me for time."

Carlo clenched his fists. "I am not trying to run away. I just..."

"You are late," Alexandro said coldly.

Carlo lifted his head. "I beg you."

For a moment, Alexandro only looked at him.

"Do you know what I dislike the most?" Alexandro asked.

Carlo shook his head slightly.

"People who come here without bringing a solution and only bring the word 'I beg'."

Carlo let out a heavy breath. "I have nothing left."

"I will give you one chance," Alexandro continued.

Carlo straightened his back. "What kind of chance?"

Alexandro stood up. His height made Carlo reflexively stand as well, even though his knees felt weak.

"Bring me something equal to your value, something that will make the debt considered settled."

Carlo fell silent for a long moment.

"Like your head," Alexandro said with a sly smile.

Carlo was shocked by the words. Cold sweat ran down the back of his neck. He knew Alexandro was not joking. That man never spoke without intent. Carlo swallowed, then unconsciously his eyes moved to the corner of the room, toward the side door that had just closed.

In his mind, the image of the woman who had been on Alexandro moments ago resurfaced. A slender body, a beautiful face, smooth skin. A woman of the night, one of many that could be bought with money and power. And somehow, a wild idea appeared.

Carlo took a breath, then spoke more carefully. "I might have something."

Alexandro lifted his gaze. Not enthusiastic, but interested enough not to interrupt.

"What is it?" he asked flatly.

"I have a daughter."

Alexandro did not react. His face remained unchanged.

"She is beautiful, very beautiful, even more beautiful than the woman earlier."

He gave a small smile, a desperate smile trying to sell hope. "She is young, beautiful, and educated, not a paid woman."

Alexandro chuckled softly, not a loud laugh, just a low sound full of indifference.

"Do you think I lack women, Carlo?" he said.

Carlo flinched. "That is not what I mean, but this is different. She..."

"I can get any woman I want. Models, actresses, daughters of wealthy families, or women from the streets. Just name it."

He took a step closer. "What makes you think your daughter is special?"

Carlo fell silent for a moment, his heart pounding hard. But he could not retreat.

"Because she is mine, and I am giving her to you."

Alexandro stared at Carlo for a long time.

"What is your daughter's name?" he asked.

Carlo jolted slightly but answered quickly. "Elena."

Alexandro repeated the name slowly, then turned and walked back to the sofa. He sat down, leaning back casually.

"Elena," he repeated again. "Beautiful, you say."

"Yes," Carlo nodded quickly. "Very beautiful. Everyone praises her. She even..."

"How much is she worth?" Alexandro cut in.

Carlo choked. "What do you mean?"

"Your debt. Do you really think one woman, no matter how beautiful, is enough to cover all of it?"

Carlo fell silent, the numbers flashing through his mind, and he knew the answer.

"Not entirely, but she can be a guarantee that I will not run," Carlo replied.

Alexandro smiled thinly. "You still don't understand."

He stood again and slowly walked around Carlo. With every step, Carlo felt smaller.

"I don't buy women," Alexandro continued. "I choose."

"Then choose her," Carlo said, turning to follow him. "You will not regret marrying my daughter."

Alexandro stopped right in front of Carlo. The distance between them was close, too close.

"Bring me her photo," he said.

Carlo lifted his head quickly. "What?"

"A photo," Alexandro repeated. "I want to see what you call beautiful."

His hand moved faster than his thoughts.

Carlo reached into his briefcase with trembling hands. From the deepest pocket where he usually kept important documents, he pulled out a photograph, its edges slightly worn. The photo was wrapped in clear plastic, clearly taken out and put back many times.

"I always carry it," Carlo said hurriedly. "I want you to see it now."

Alexandro turned slowly. There was no impatience on his face, nor excessive interest. He simply extended his hand, palm open, waiting.

Carlo handed over the photo. A small piece of paper changed hands, but for Carlo, it felt like giving up something far greater. Alexandro lowered his gaze to the photo. It was a family picture, taken years ago. Carlo stood in the center with a proud smile. Beside him was his wife, and in front of them was Elena.

Beautiful, even in that old photo her beauty stood out. Her hair was long and well cared for, her face bright, her smile confident. A girl truly born to be shown to the world.

Carlo held his breath. He watched Alexandro's face closely, searching for any sign of interest.

Alexandro tilted the photo slightly, looking closer. His eyes lingered for quite some time on Elena. There was no smile, no clear change in expression. But Carlo noticed a pause.

Alexandro did not return the photo immediately. His gaze shifted to another figure in the picture. A girl positioned slightly to the side. Not standing in the center, not looking at the camera with confidence. Her body was larger, her smile faint, as if she knew she was not the main focus of the photo. Alexandro stared at her longer now.

"This..." Alexandro murmured softly.

Carlo leaned forward without realizing it. "Elena," he said quickly. "That is my daughter."

Alexandro did not respond. He continued staring at the photo, his finger lightly pressing the plastic covering the face of the girl at the side. Carlo began to grow uneasy.

"I am sure you will be interested," he continued, trying to hide his nervousness. "She would look perfect standing beside a man like you."

Alexandro finally lifted his face. That look made Carlo tense.

"Interesting," Alexandro said with a sinister smile, as if he had found his prey.