"I would rather die than marry him!" Lyra's voice shook, pacing the length of her father's study, her heart pounding against her ribcage. Her mind races with the weight of the decision being laid upon her, the contract clutched in her father's hands looming like a death sentence. It feels as if the very walls are closing in on her, inculcating an unnatural weight upon each breath.
Lyra," Richard Caine's voice was soft, his face lined with exhaustion. Once-proud shoulders now slumped in defeat at the weight of their situation. He refused to look at her, choosing instead to gaze down at the papers on the desk in front of him. "You have no choice. This is the only way we can save our family. You don't sign, and everything your grandfather built, everything I've tried to protect, will disappear.
The enormity of what was happening to her landed like a block of lead in her chest. Her whole life had been building to this, though she'd never imagined it would come to this-an agreement, binding her to Dante Moretti, the man whose name alone brought a thread of dread within her.
The thought of Dante, the cold and calculating billionaire whose ruthless reputation gave him the nickname "the predator" in New York's business circles, wrenched her stomach violently. Dark and brooding, with a charm spoken of only in whispers, Dante ranked as dangerous as he was powerful. His touch was poison, his words a trap, and his intentions? Impossible to decipher.
Lyra's heart stirred and quickened as she remembered every single rumor that had been told of him: tales of his rise to power, of his deliberate destruction of whatever stood in his way. And now… now she was to be his wife?
"He's a monster, Father," Lyra whispered, her voice shaking. "You're selling me to a monster."
Richard Caine's face darkened, yet still he refused to meet her gaze. His face was worn, the lines around his eyes deeper than she had ever seen. The years of the stress and the failed business ventures had taken their mark on him. This wasn't the father in remembrance of whom she had grown up with. This was a broken man-broken by his errors, by the world that he could no longer control anymore.
"I know what he is, Lyra," Richard muttered, adjusting his glasses with shaking hands. "But he is our only hope. You have to understand. we are ruined. The debts, the legal battles. everything we have is tied up in this. Dante's offer is the only thing standing between us and total destruction."
Lyra's mind reeled. Her most pride-filled father remained proud against all his failures. How did it come to this? A marriage contract with the devil himself?
The memory of the first time she had seen Dante flickered through her mind tall, his raven-black hair and sharp, piercing eyes that seemed to strip away every defense. His presence had filled the room, commanding attention, making the air feel thicker. She'd felt it then, that overwhelming sense of danger.
"But Father… Why me? Why does he want me?"
Finally, her father's eyes met hers, and there was something vacant within them, something that felt so already defeated. "It's not you, Lyra," he said softly, but that sense of regret laced his tone. "It's what you represent. Marrying you ties him to the Caine legacy, and through that, it ties him to everything your grandfather built.
Lyra swallowed as a wave of emotion constricted her throat. "So I'm just a bargaining chip to him?
Richard hesitated a sec, then nodded, his silence confirming what she had suspected even better than words would have.
Her legs buckled, and she fell onto the leather armchair by the window. Outside, the city just went on and on in every direction-a sea of lights, a sea of noise, consolation for no one. She stared out at the horizon and thought about how her life could have gotten so completely out of control.
There was a knock on the door, and her thoughts were disrupted. Richard straightened up a bit before glancing at his watch. His face set in an uncomfortable manner to steel himself for what was going to happen next.
"Come in," he called, startlingly hoarse.
The door opened, and in walked the very man who was the focus of her worst nightmares.
Dante Moretti.
Lyra's breath caught in her throat as he entered the room, his presence no less commanding than she remembered. His dark suit sat well on his wide shoulders and lean physique. He moved with the confidence of a man who knew he owned everything surrounding him. And those eyes-cold and calculating, unreadable-locked onto hers with an intensity that ran a shiver down her spine.
"Mr. Moretti," he said, tilting his head, strained but courteous.
"Richard," Dante said, his voice smooth as silk, but with an edge of ice to it. His eyes darted to Lyra, and a sly, cruel smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, as if he sensed her fear. "Miss Caine."
Lyra felt her heart race in her chest, the palms of her hands growing clammy as he neared her. Every step he made toward her sounded too quick, so that he was standing before her, towering over her, a shadow of inevitability, ready to fall.
Dante's eyes lingered on her a fraction of a second more than they ought to, weighing, measuring. "I trust your father has explained the terms of our arrangement?
Lyra's mouth was dry, and she could say nothing for a moment. She wanted to scream, to shout, to plead for answers; however, all she could do was barely nod her head.
The smirk in Dante's mouth spread, but his eyes didn't thaw a single degree. "Good. Then we aren't going to waste anymore time." He plunged his hand into the breast pocket of his suit and drew out a pen, extending it to her. "Sign the contract, Miss Caine.
Her hand was shaking as she reached for the pen; her fingers skimmed over his in that one gesture. A spark of something-fear, anger, or maybe even something darker-shot through her. But as she held the pen, she knew she wasn't just signing a contract. She was signing away her life.
She took a deep breath and set her hand steady, pen to paper. The room seemed to grow colder with every stroke of ink as her name formed on the dotted line, sealing her fate.
The instant the pen left the paper, Dante leaned in, his face inches from hers, speaking low. "Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Moretti."
Lyra's stomach seemed to contort into knots, and before she could utter a word in response, Dante straightened and turned toward her father. "The deal is done, Richard. I'll expect everything else to be in order before the wedding. Her father nodded weakly, his eyes welling up with tears, but Lyra was beyond consolation; all she could do was stare at Dante, her mind reeling with the implication of what she'd just set in motion. The weight of her decision pressed upon her like an anvil, and one thought tumbled over and over inside her brain. The dye has been cast. But before she could even grasp what was in store for her, Dante's phone started vibrating, and his face darkened as he looked down to glance at the screen. I have business to attend to," he said icily, and his voice cut. "But do not worry, Lyra. I'll be seeing you very soon. With that, he turned and was gone, the door closing after him with the finality that ran a chill down her spine. But it was what was in his eyes as he turned and left that haunted her most of all, a promise that this was only the beginning. Skewed, her whole world had just been flipped onto its head, her fate sealed with the stroke of a pen. What she didn't know was that Dante's plans ran deeper than she could ever fathom, and she was about to get swept up in a game far more unsafe than anything her father ever warned her about.
