2

[Madison Rose]

"I always wanted Marco to end up with Violet," Papa said. "Honestly, she would've made a better wife for him. But she's still too young, so the responsibility fell on you, being the eldest. It's unfair, really."

I kept chewing my food, trying to tune out yet another conversation about Violet. Sometimes, I loved my sister so much it hurt — but other times, it was hard not to be jealous of how much attention Papa gave her. If Violet had been the one to marry Marco, maybe I wouldn't be stuck worrying about all this. Now the whole company would end up in my hands just because I married the man they said saved it.

Papa’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "And remember this, Maddie — if Marco ever leaves you, don't expect a single penny from me. You’re on your own."

I knew there were ways to get a marriage annulled, but it wasn’t easy. Still, with the Moretti family's influence, Marco probably had the power to make even the impossible happen if he wanted to.

After breakfast, I went back to my room and got dressed. I had this weird feeling he could show up at any moment.

Even though we’d been married for a month now, I barely knew anything about him. Aside from his name — and how passionate he was in bed — he was still a stranger to me.

A knock came at the door. It was one of the housekeepers. "Ma’am Maddie, Sir Marco is here."

The second he walked into the room, that same old nervousness hit me, just like when we first met. My heart hammered in my chest as his cold eyes locked onto me.

The housekeeper quietly left, closing the door behind her, leaving the two of us alone. Marco didn’t say a word — just kept staring at me, his gaze sharp and heavy like a storm waiting to break. There was something so cold about him... like he was barely holding himself together.

Should I say something? Should I smile? Anything to stop him from wanting to leave. I didn’t love him — I didn’t even want this marriage — but I needed it to survive. The company needed him.

“How are you?” Finally, he broke the silence. His voice was low, detached, almost like he was just going through the motions. He ran his fingers along the edge of a nearby table, looking around like he didn’t really want to be there.

I took a shaky breath, trying to find my voice. "I’m... I’m good. How about you?" I stammered.

That was the effect he had on me — making me trip over even the simplest words.

I’d heard all the rumors about Marco long before we ever got married. That’s why I’d begged Papa not to go through with it. I thought Marco would be even worse than the life I already had at home. I grew up knowing what abuse felt like — I didn’t want more of it.

People said Marco was ruthless. That he didn’t hesitate to destroy anyone who got in his way. That he was cold, heartless, and didn’t care about anyone. Standing here in front of him, feeling the weight of his presence, it was easy to believe every word of it.

When he heard my answer, he stared at me — and for a second, I could swear I saw anger flash in his eyes. Or maybe I was just imagining it. I couldn’t really tell.

"Why are you still living here with your parents?" he said, his voice tight as he stepped closer. "We have our own house. What are you doing here?"

I blinked at him, confused. Why was he suddenly asking me this? After disappearing on me without a word, now he was acting like it made no sense that I came back here?

"I stayed at the house for a few days, but..." My words faded off. I didn’t even know what excuse to give him.

I thought about telling him — about the pictures my father had shown me of him with another woman. But honestly, I didn’t even care anymore. It didn’t even hurt. What really bothered me was how everyone around me seemed so sure he was going to leave me. Or maybe... maybe it was just my own fear whispering in my ear.

A million questions were buzzing in my head. Where had he been? Who was that woman? Was he planning to divorce me?

But I couldn’t get a single word out.

"Get your things. We're leaving," Marco said, turning toward the door like the conversation was already over.

I found my voice just in time. "Where are we going?" I asked.

He shot me a quick look, rolled his eyes like the question was a huge waste of his time, and said, "Home. Where you were supposed to be this whole time."

His words hit me harder than I expected. He was so cold, so hard to read — like if I didn’t figure out what he wanted right away, he wouldn’t bother explaining again. I couldn’t tell what was really going through his head... I just prayed he wasn’t going to treat me the way my father did. I’d already lived through being someone's punching bag once. I wasn’t sure I could survive it again.

Before I knew it, a bunch of maids rushed in and started packing up my stuff. They moved fast, stuffing my clothes and things into a few suitcases like they couldn’t wait to ship me off.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Marco leaning against the doorframe, watching everything — watching me. I kept my head down, refusing to meet his eyes.

"If you’re done packing, leave us," Marco said to the maids.

They hurried even faster, finishing up in record time before slipping out the door.

Then he started walking toward me, and every step he took made my throat go drier. Without even thinking, I took a step back.

There was just something about him — this heavy, dark presence that was impossible to ignore. Even fully dressed, just being near him sent a shiver down my spine.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t even realize Marco had moved right in front of me. I tried to back away, but he grabbed my hand — firm, but not rough — and gently pulled me down onto the bed.

"Please... let me go," I whispered, my voice small. Just being near him made me feel weak and exposed.

"You told me not to ask again," he said, his voice low. "But can I kiss my wife? Can I sleep with you right now?"

His blunt questions caught me off guard. I froze for a second, thinking about it. Wasn’t this part of what was expected of me anyway — being a wife? As long as he wasn’t hurting me, I figured I could let him have my body. So, I nodded.

The moment I did, Marco leaned in and kissed me, hard. A soft moan escaped my lips — I hadn’t expected the kiss to be that intense.

I tried to push him away just to catch my breath, but my body felt so weak. And for a second, I wondered... was it really weakness? Or was some part of me clinging to this, wanting more?

In between kisses, his voice brushed against my skin. "I'm upset with you," he murmured.

Each kiss was like a drug, leaving me dizzy and breathless, like I was getting drunk off him. I couldn’t think straight — I just gave in, letting the moment pull me under.

"I know you’re not exactly thrilled about this marriage," he said, his voice rough but almost... vulnerable. "But could you at least try to act happy to see your husband after being apart for a month?"