The silence between them stretched, thick as smoke. Vicenzo stepped closer, his dark eyes locked on hers, until their faces were just inches apart.
"You will obey me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You'll be my exclusive companion. For the next three months, your body, your attention, your time… all of it will belong to me."
She gasped. Heat rushed to her face.
"You're a bastard."
He smiled.
"I am. And yet, here you are."
She closed her eyes for a moment. Thought of her father, alone in a cell. Thought of how he had aged in just a few weeks. Thought of the man who had taught her how to ride a bike, and never to bow her head.
She would bow now. But for him.
When she looked back at Enzo, there was fire in her eyes.
"I accept everything, Vicenzo. But don't think this breaks me. You want revenge? You'll get it. But you'll find out it's not so easy to destroy someone who's already lost everything."
Vicenzo's smile disappeared for a moment. Outside, the first drops of rain began to slide down the windows.
"I'm not here to argue about the past. I'm offering a chance to change the present."
Lara took a deep breath.
"You're buying my dignity."
"No. I'm renting your presence."
He walked to the glass table, picked up an envelope, and held it out.
"Inside is a contract. Detailed. Clear rules. Sign it, and my lawyer will file the bail request today."
She hesitated.
"And if I refuse?"
"Your father rots in prison."
The coldness of the answer cut like a blade.
Lara took the envelope. Opened it. Read the clauses: schedule, exclusivity, confidentiality, no involvement with other people, and presence required at events. At the end, the amount for bail, an amount she could never raise on her own.
And above the signature line: her full name.
She looked up at him.
"Can I add a clause?"
"Depends."
"Nothing degrading. No public humiliation. I'll go with you, be wherever you want—but I won't be shamed as a woman."
He studied her for several long seconds. Then he grabbed a pen and scribbled something at the bottom of the contract.
"Done."
She took the pen. With trembling fingers, she signed.
When she looked up again, Enzo's dark, piercing gaze was locked on her.
"Welcome to your new world, Lara."
The rain was falling harder outside. And inside that luxurious penthouse, Lara had the distinct feeling she was about to dive into a storm far more dangerous.
"We start tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Of course. I bought your time, Lara. And I don't intend to waste it."
She walked to the door without another word. But just before she stepped out, she heard his voice behind her.
"Oh, and Lara…"
She turned, tense.
"Wear red. I want to remember sin every time I look at you."
She closed the door with her soul in pieces.
The war had begun.
And she was the battlefield.
✦✦✦
The alarm went off at 6 a.m., but Lara was already awake. She'd spent the night tossing and turning, the signed contract burning in her thoughts.
The day passed in a blur. Lara could only think about what awaited her at the end of the afternoon, when she was to meet Vicenzo, according to the instructions he had texted her.
When the time came, she resigned herself to yet another one of Vicenzo's whims:
"Wear red. I want to remember sin every time I look at you."
His words echoed in her mind like a curse. She took a deep breath, stood up, and opened the wardrobe. Her fingers hovered over the few pieces she had left—remnants of a life that no longer existed. At the back, a tight red dress with a deep neckline. A birthday gift she'd never worn.
"It's just a dress," she lied to herself.
But she knew it wasn't. It was armor, a declaration of war.
A matte black Bentley was waiting in front of her building. The driver, a middle-aged man with an unreadable expression, opened the door without a word. Lara stepped in, her heart pounding. The interior smelled of expensive leather.
The ride to Vicenzo's office was silent. The city passed by the window like a mute film, people going about their normal lives, routines she wouldn't have for the next three months.
The private elevator took her straight to the executive floor. When the doors opened, she saw him immediately.
Vicenzo stood with his back to her, speaking on the phone in Italian. The morning light outlined his broad shoulders beneath the navy-blue suit. Without turning around, he held out a hand in a clear gesture: Wait.
Lara pressed her lips together but obeyed.
When he finally hung up and turned, his dark eyes slowly scanned her body, as if reading every inch of her.
"Red." He smiled, satisfied. "It suits you. Or rather… it suits what you're going to become."
"I don't change who I am based on the color of a dress."
"No?" He closed the distance between them in two steps. His fingers brushed the neckline of her dress, barely a touch, more like a scratch. "Then why do you tremble when I touch you?"
Lara swallowed hard. "Hatred."
Vicenzo let out a low laugh, as if she had said something amusing. "Let's begin."
He led her to a conference room enclosed in frosted glass. On the table, a second, more detailed contract. "Read."
She picked up the papers. The clauses were specific:
Schedule: She would be available from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m., unless he demanded more. Appearance: Always impeccable. No repeated outfits. He chose not to refuse hairstyles or makeup. Touch: He could touch her whenever and however he pleased. She was not allowed to refuse. Silence: No questions about his past or motives.
Lara felt her stomach churn. "This is…"
"Non-negotiable." He leaned over the table. "Sign it, or the deal ends now. And your father stays in that cell."
She looked at the pen. At him. At the void that awaited her if she said no.
She signed.
Vicenzo didn't touch her during the ride to their destination, but his eyes never left her for a second.
"Why me?" Lara finally asked. "You could have any woman."
"Any woman wouldn't carry your last name."
She froze. "So this is just about humiliation."
His eyes gleamed. "It's about justice. And pleasure. And maybe… finding out what else you can give me."
Lara didn't answer. But for the first time, she wondered if he truly wanted to destroy her…
Or if he wanted something much worse.
The car pulled up in front of a luxury hotel. Vicenzo got out first, then extended his hand to her.
"Where are we?"
"Where you'll learn your first lesson."
The lobby was golden and cold. Important people passed by, glancing at them with curiosity. Lara felt exposed, as if everyone knew what she had signed.
In the elevator, he finally touched her. One finger traced her spine—slow, calculated.
"Breathe, Lara. The night is just beginning."
And when the elevator doors opened, she understood.
It was a dinner. With his business partners. With the men who had destroyed her father.
And she was there.
Wearing red.