I stared at the screen, my heart pounding.
I had an hour to pack my life into a single suitcase and prepare for my life to change forever.
Chapter Twelve
Lorenzo
The penthouse had never felt so vast.
I’d spent the morning pacing the marble floors, my shoes clicking against the polished stone and echoing through the cavernous space. The faint scent of lemon polish hung in the air, blending with the delicate sweetness of a large bouquet of white roses that Carla had insisted on ordering. Beyond the glass, the city sprawled beneath me like a kingdom I’d never cared to rule.
The judge was already here, a reserved man in a dark suit who’d been handsomely paid for his discretion, his papers shuffling softly at the small table where we would sign our marriage certificate. Carla fussed over the flowers again, pausing to smooth a tablecloth and adjust a chair.
Everything was ready.
Except for her.
I checked my watch for the third time in as many minutes. Ten minutes past ten. The driver had confirmed that he had picked her up, so where the hell was she?
Maybe she’d seen the contract in the morning light, realized how insane this was, and decided to run? I mean, if she changed her mind, I couldn’t blame her—but I’d chase her all the same, because my father’s ultimatum wasn’t the only reason I wanted her here. Ineededher.
I would keep every promise I had made to her. I’ll give her everything. Every fucking thing she wants. She just has to show up.
A few more minutes of pacing take over before I’m caught by the chime of the elevator, my heart slamming against my ribs. But before I could see the doors open, Carla was there. She grabbed my arm with surprising strength for a woman her age, pulling me to the side, out of the foyer.
“Enzo, don’t look yet. She’s here, but you must wait. It’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony.”
I wanted to argue. Every instinct screamed at me to push past her, to lay eyes on Zara, to confirm she was real and here. But I bit my tongue and nodded.
Bad luck.
I didn’t believe in luck. I believed in control. In money. In the power to bend the world to my will.
But for her, I’d learn to wait.
That was, if my father didn’t kill me first.
The thought almost made me smile. He’d threatened to cut me off, to take away the businesses I’d built with my own hands. But I’d fulfilled his requirement: marriage to a “suitable” woman. He’d specified a bride from a good family, but he hadn’t specified which family. Zara had no marks on her past. She was beautiful. And soon, she would be mine.
Technically, I’d met the terms of his ultimatum. Whether he liked it or not, I’d won.
But that wasn’t why I was standing here.
I was standing here because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way her dark hair fell across her face. The defiant spark that flickered when she negotiated her terms—no sex, freedom to leave, support for her education. She hadn’t just accepted my offer blindly; she’d demanded more for herself, bargaining as if determined to finally put her own needs first. I saw in herthat blend of caution and determination, the hope for something better battling with the fear of being used again.
She was hurting, and I wanted to put her back together.
I wanted to own every piece of her.
A door closed again, pulling my attention, and this time, Carladidn’t stop me.
I heard footsteps—soft, hesitant. Followed by the rustle of fabric. Then Carla’s voice, gentle and guiding, led her toward the living room.
When I finally laid eyes on her, the world stopped.
Zara stood in the doorway carved from temptation itself, the morning light pouring around her in a pale halo. For a second, all I could do was stare. She was the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen.
The silk skimmed every curve, molding to the soft flare of her hips and the narrow line of her waist before pulling tight across her chest in a way that made my throat dry. It was elegant, almost innocent at first glance, but on her it became something dangerous. Deadly.
