The first time I saw Luca Romano smile, it wasn't because he was happy.
It was because he had already won.
The chandelier above us glittered like a thousand sharp knives, casting gold light across the ballroom. Politicians laughed. Businessmen toasted. My father stood proudly beside me as if tonight was just another celebration.
But I knew something was wrong.
My father never looked nervous.
And tonight… his hands were shaking.
"Smile," he whispered to me. "This is good for us."
Good for us.
The doors opened.
Silence spread through the room like a slow-moving storm.
Luca Romano walked in as if he owned the air we were breathing.
Black suit. Calm expression. Eyes that held no warmth — only calculation.
Every conversation died.
Every head turned.
And when his gaze found mine, something cold settled in my chest.
He didn't look surprised to see me.
He looked… satisfied.
My father cleared his throat and raised his glass.
"Tonight," he announced, voice too loud, "we celebrate a powerful alliance between two families."
The word alliance echoed in my ears.
I felt it before he said it.
Felt the ground shift beneath my feet.
"My daughter," he continued, gripping my arm tighter, "will be marrying Luca Romano."
The world didn't shatter.
It froze.
Gasps filled the room.
Cameras flashed.
And I couldn't breathe.
"No," I whispered.
But my father didn't look at me.
Luca did.
Slowly, deliberately, he walked toward me.
Each step controlled.
Each step certain.
When he stopped in front of me, he didn't touch me.
He didn't need to.
"You look surprised," he said softly, his voice smooth — dangerously calm.
"I would rather die," I replied.
A flicker of something passed through his eyes. Amusement. Maybe challenge.
He leaned slightly closer.
"This isn't about what you want," he murmured so only I could hear.
"It's about balance."
Balance.
Revenge dressed in a suit.
I finally understood.
This wasn't a marriage.
It was a transaction.
And I was the price.
The room erupted into applause.
My father smiled.
Luca extended his hand to me, waiting.
Not forcing.
Waiting.
As if he already knew I had no choice.
And when I placed my trembling hand in his…
His fingers tightened just slightly.
Possessive.
Victorious.
And for the first time in my life—
I realized I was standing beside the man who hated my family more than he hated anyone.
And in three weeks…
I would be his wife.