“You’ll learn,” my father says. “People marry for worse reasons.”
I want to scream. I want to run. I want to grab my parents by the shoulders and shake them until they see how completely insane this is.
But I don’t.
Because they’re right.
I have two four-year-old children who depend on me. Who need stability and safety and a future that doesn’t involve watching their grandparents lose everything. I’ve been living in my parents’ house because I can’t afford my own place. I’ve been working part-time jobs that barely cover the nanny’s salary. I’vebeen holding on by my fingernails for four years, and I’m so tired.
And this man, this stranger who doesn’t even remember me, is offering a way out.
I hate him for it. I hate my parents for doing this. I hate myself for even considering it.
But I’m considering it.
“What do you get out of this?” I ask him.
“Control of Kestrel Maritime,” he says without hesitation. “Legal authority over your family’s assets. A legitimate public image.” He tilts his head slightly. “And a wife.”
“A business transaction.”
“Yes.”
At least he’s honest.
I look at my parents one more time. My mother is crying now, silent tears sliding down her face. My father looks ten years older than he did this morning.
“If I do this,” I say slowly, “the twins are off-limits. You don’t touch them. You don’t involve them in whatever business you’re running. They stay out of it.”
Something flickers in his expression. Amusement, maybe. “They’re part of the arrangement. Their security is guaranteed.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m not a monster, Anna. I have no interest in harming children.”
“That’s not a yes.”
He steps forward, closing the distance between us. Up close, he’s even taller than I remembered. His eyes are the same. Cold. Calculating. “Your children will be protected under my household. They will want for nothing. You have my word.”
His word. Like that means anything.
But what choice do I have?
I take a breath. Another. “Fine.”
2
LUCA
She walkslike she’s heading toward a firing squad.
I watch Anna Kestrel move down the short aisle between chairs filled with witnesses I’ve paid to be here. Her posture is rigid, shoulders back, chin up. Defiant even now. The black dress fits her well, shows off a figure that’s slim but curved in the right places. Her hair is dark, almost black, pulled back from a face that’s younger than I expected. Mid-twenties, maybe. Pale skin. Full mouth set in a hard line.
More beautiful in person, actually. I hadn’t anticipated that.
Not that it matters. Beauty doesn’t change the numbers in a ledger or the signatures on a contract. She’s a means to an end, and the end is Kestrel Maritime under my control after three years of work.
Viktor Kestrel made it easy. Overextended loans. Bad investments. A shipping route through the Baltic that cost him twice what it earned. I bought his debt from smaller creditors, consolidated it, then squeezed, until he had nowhere left to turn except to me.
