"Come with me."
I let him lead me to the living room, to the massive leather couch that faced those stunning windows. He sat and pulled me down beside him, close enough that our thighs touched.
"I'm going to lay this out clearly," he said, his voice businesslike despite the intimate position. "And you're going to listen to everything before you respond. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
A small smile. "Thank you, sweetheart. But you can call me Dez for this conversation. This isn't a scene. This is business."
That should have disappointed me. Instead, it made everything feel more real. More serious.
"I need a wife," he began. "My father gave me an ultimatum. Get married within a year, produce an heir, or he names my younger brother Marco as his successor."
My breath caught. "Who told our parents that this was okay?" I asked seriously.
"That part." His hand found mine, fingers threading through mine. "I'm looking for someone suitable. Someone who can handle my family, my lifestyle, the darkness that comes with being a Moretti. Someone strong enough to stand beside me instead of cowering behind me."
"And you think that's me?"
"I know it is." His gray eyes met mine with absolute certainty. "You surrendered to me today, Angelina. Completely. Let me tie you up, fuck you, command you. But you never broke. Never lost yourself. You bent, but you didn't break."
"That's sex. Marriage is different."
"Is it?" He shifted to face me more fully. "You need someone powerful enough that your uncle thinks twice before trying anything. Someone with the resources to protect you and your company. Someone who won't try to take control of Castellano & Co. because he has his own empire to run."
"And you need someone who won't embarrass your family. Who can handle their own. Who's strong enough to produce heirs and raise them in this life."
"Exactly." His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. "We're compatible sexually—more than compatible, if today was any indication. We're both intelligent, ambitious, and practical. And we both need the same thing."
"A marriage of convenience."
"A marriage of mutual benefit," he corrected. "With some very convenient side effects."
Despite everything, I felt myself smile. "You're very smooth."
"I'm practical." He raised my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "Here's what I'm proposing: A marriage. One year minimum, with options to extend or dissolve after the terms are met. You get a husband and a pregnancy, securing your inheritance. I get a wife and an heir, securing mine. Your uncle backs off because threatening a Moretti's wife is a death sentence. My family gets what they want. Everyone wins."
"Except us."
"Why except us?" He looked genuinely confused.
"Because we barely know each other, Dez. We met yesterday. Had one scene together. And now you want to bind our lives together based on what? Sexual compatibility and business necessity?"
"That's more than most marriages in our world start with." His voice went soft. "But you're right. We don't know each other yet. Which is why I'm proposing we use the rest of the weekend together to figure out if this could actually work."
"How?"
"We talk. We play. We see how we handle each other outside of scenes." He pulled me closer, until I was practically in his lap. "And before you leave, we make a decision. If you think this could work—if you're willing to take the risk—we draw up a contract and make it official. If not, you walk away with your seventy-five thousand and we never speak of this again."
It was insane. Completely, utterly insane. I'd known this man for less than a day. Had let him tie me up, fuck me, and feed me like I was his pet, his possession, his to command. And now he wanted to marry me.
"What about love?" I asked quietly.
"What about it?"
"Don't you want to marry someone you love? Someone who loves you back?"
His expression went carefully neutral. "Love is a luxury people like us can't afford. My parents had an arranged marriage. They respect each other, work well together, and produced five children. That's more than enough."
