The first time I saw Luca De Santis, I understood why people whispered his name instead of saying it aloud.
He didn't look like a monster. That was the terrifying part.
He stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, Manhattan glittering behind him like a kingdom he already owned. His black suit was tailored perfectly, his dark hair combed back with deliberate precision. Calm. Controlled.
Deadly.
My hands trembled as I clutched the thin leather purse hanging from my shoulder. Every instinct screamed at me to run but running wouldn't save my father.
"Sit," Luca said without turning around.
The single word hit harder than a shout.
I obeyed.
The chair felt too small, too fragile, like it might collapse under the weight of what I was about to do. My heart slammed against my ribs as Luca finally turned to face me.
His eyes were dark. Not angry. Not curious.
Empty.
"You understand why you're here," he said.
I swallowed. "Yes."
"Say it."
My throat tightened. "My father owes your organization money. A lot of it."
Luca nodded once, like we were discussing the weather. "And your father has failed to pay."
"He tried," I said quickly. "He lost his job. Then the hospital bills"
"Excuses don't erase debt," Luca interrupted.
Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
I forced myself to lift my chin. "You said there was… another option."
That finally earned a reaction.
A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.
"There is."
He walked toward me, each step unhurried, measured. Predator calm. I resisted the urge to shrink back as he stopped directly in front of me.
"You'll marry me."
The words hit me like a slap.
"I what?"
"One year," Luca continued, as if he hadn't just rewritten my life. "You'll live with me. Appear as my wife in public. Obey my rules."
My breath came in short bursts. "You can't be serious."
"I never joke," he said quietly.
I stood up, shaking. "There has to be another way. I'll work. I'll pay you back. I'll".
"You have nothing I want," he said flatly.
My chest burned. "Then why me?"
Luca studied me like a puzzle. "Because you're disposable."
The word cut deeper than I expected.
"If you refuse," he went on calmly, "your father dies tonight."
Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall. "And if I agree?"
"Your father lives."
"That's it?"
"For now."
My fingers curled into fists. "And after one year?"
Luca stepped closer, lowering his voice. "After one year, the contract ends."
Something in his tone made my stomach twist.
"What happens to the women who married you before me?" I asked softly.
The room went still.
Luca's gaze hardened. "You don't ask questions that don't concern you."
That was answer enough.
My pulse roared in my ears. Every instinct told me this was a trap but I had no choice.
"Give me the contract," I said.
Luca turned to the table and picked up a thick folder. He slid it toward me, his finger tapping a specific page.
"Sign."
My eyes skimmed the document. Legal language. Clauses. Conditions.
Then I saw it.
A line buried deep in the contract.
Termination is at the sole discretion of Luca De Santis.
My heart skipped. "This clause".
"Means you belong to me for one year," he said. "In every sense that matters."
My hands shook as I picked up the pen.
If I didn't sign, my father would die.
If I did… I might.
I signed anyway.
The moment the pen left the paper, Luca's expression changed. Satisfaction flickered across his face.
"Welcome, Mrs. De Santis," he said.
My stomach dropped.
As if summoned by fate itself, Luca's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then looked back at me.
"They've prepared your room," he said. "You'll move in tonight."
"Tonight?" I whispered.
He leaned closer, his voice a low promise. "You should know something, Elena."
My heart pounded.
"No woman who has married me has ever left this house alive."
The words settled into my bones like ice.
And that was the moment I realized.
I hadn't just signed a marriage contract.
I had signed my own death sentence.