The Romano mansion was quieter than I expected.
Not warm.
Not welcoming.
Just controlled.
Every chandelier perfectly aligned. Every guard positioned strategically. Every movement deliberate.
Including him.
Luca sat at the head of the long dining table like he had been born there — one hand resting calmly beside his glass, expression unreadable.
I took the seat across from him.
Not beside.
His eyes flicked to the empty chair next to him.
Then to me.
"You'll sit there?" he asked.
"Yes."
A pause.
"Interesting."
Dinner was served in silence. Crystal glasses. Expensive wine. Plates that probably cost more than my monthly allowance.
"You're quiet," he observed.
"I'm eating."
"You're calculating."
I met his gaze. "Maybe I learned from the best."
A faint smirk.
"You think this marriage weakens you," he said calmly. "It doesn't."
"It cages me."
He leaned back slightly. "Only if you let it."
"And what if I refuse to play along?"
His eyes darkened — not angry. Focused.
"Then you'll make enemies you don't see coming."
The way he said it…
Wasn't a threat.
It was a warning.
My fork stilled.
"Explain."
Instead, he changed the subject.
"The dress fitting is tomorrow. My assistant will pick you up."
"You planned that already?"
"I plan everything."
Of course he did.
But something about tonight felt… off.
Like he wasn't watching me.
Like he was watching the room.
The boutique was private. Closed for the afternoon.
White silk. Mirrors everywhere. Staff whispering nervously.
I stepped onto the platform while the designer adjusted the fabric around my shoulders.
It was beautiful.
Soft ivory. Elegant. Powerful.
A queen's dress.
I hated that I looked perfect in it.
The door opened.
Luca entered without asking.
His gaze froze when he saw me.
Not soft.
Not romantic.
Just still.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
"Well?" I asked coldly.
He walked closer.
Slowly.
The designer stepped away.
Luca circled me once — not touching, just observing.
"You look…" He paused.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Like you were meant to wear it."
"That's not a compliment."
"No," he agreed quietly. "It's not."
For a brief second, something almost human flickered in his eyes.
Regret?
Possession?
I couldn't tell.
"You don't get to look at me like that," I said.
"Like what?"
"Like I already belong to you."
His voice dropped slightly.
"In three weeks, you will."
The air tightened between us.
Before I could respond—
His phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
His expression changed.
Sharp.
Cold.
Dangerous.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Nothing."
It wasn't nothing.
I could see it in his posture.
He stepped aside and made a quiet call.
"Where?" he said softly.
Silence.
"Keep eyes on her."
My stomach dropped.
Keep eyes on her?
On who?
Me?
Or someone else?
That evening, after I returned home, I couldn't shake the feeling.
The curtains felt thinner.
The silence felt heavier.
I stood by my bedroom window, staring out at the street below.
Everything looked normal.
Until—
A black car parked across the road.
Engine still running.
Lights off.
Too still.
My heart began to pound.
I told myself I was imagining it.
But when I stepped back from the window—
The car's headlights flicked on.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
And then it drove away.
Not fast.
Not panicked.
Like it had seen enough.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Unknown number.
A single message.
"You look beautiful in white."
My blood ran cold.
Only one person saw me in that dress today.
Luca.
But this message…
Didn't feel like him.
For the first time since the engagement—
I realized something terrifying.
This marriage wasn't just about revenge.
Someone else was playing a game.
And I might be the real target.