Chapter 2 The Deal

• “Do you even realize what you're saying?” I asked, a knot twisting in my stomach.
• The man in front of me—this Dante Salvatore—didn’t blink or flinch. He looked at me as if I were just another pawn on a chessboard he had already conquered.
• “More than you think,” he said, opening the back door of the sleek black car like he was inviting me to an elegant execution. “Get in. We’re not going to have a civilized conversation in the rain.”
• Logic screamed at me not to. That running was the sane choice.
• But I had nowhere left to run.
• So I got in.
• The interior smelled of expensive leather and power.
• His assistant—a broad-shouldered man with a stern gaze—greeted us with an iPad in hand.
• Dante sat across from me, crossing his legs like he owned the universe… and I was just another pending request.
• “My proposal is simple,” he said, sliding the iPad toward me. “One year of marriage. No love. No emotional expectations. No physical contact. A lot of money. Just a contract.”
• The document already had my name. My new name, if I signed.
• Zoe Salvatore.
• I stared at those two words as if they didn’t belong to me.
• As if they belonged to another woman—braver, more broken, or maybe just more desperate than I was.
• “Why me?” I asked, barely a whisper.
• Dante leaned forward, his voice a dangerous murmur.
• His breath smelled of warm whiskey—provocative, intoxicating.
• “Because you're the only woman willing—who can ruin Ethan Castelli without lifting a finger. Because you were his wife. And now… you could be mine.”
• A shiver ran down my spine.
• This wasn’t a marriage proposal.
• It was a declaration of war.
• “You want to use me as a weapon?”
• “You’ve already been used in every possible way. At least now, you get to pull the trigger.”
• There was something dark in him. Something that didn’t ask for permission or forgiveness.
• But also… a strange sense of clarity.
• He wasn’t hiding his intentions. He didn’t pretend to love me. He wasn’t offering happiness.
• He offered money, power, and the chance to get back at those who had feasted on my weakness.
• “What happens after the year?”
• “Divorce. A five-million-dollar deposit. And your life… clean. You’ll be a young, wealthy woman.”
• I swallowed.
• Five million.
• Freedom.
• Revenge.
• And in exchange… what?
• “And if I refuse?”
• “Then you leave the city tonight with this advance.”
• He pulled out another envelope, even thicker.
• “You disappear. You’ll never hear from me again.”
• It took a second to grasp what was at stake.
• This wasn’t just a contract.
• It was a choice—between drowning or using the ruins to build something new.
• I looked out the fogged window.
• The world out there offered me nothing.
• No roof. No helping hand.
• And the man in front of me, for all his cruelty, wasn’t asking for love.
• He was offering a way out.
• “What do you expect from me as a wife?” I asked, summoning the firmest voice I could find.
• Dante smiled for the first time.
• A sharp curve. Cold and dry.
• “Appearances. Photos. Events. Trips. Be by my side when necessary. Nothing more. I don’t care what you do in your free time… as long as you uphold the image for the media.”
• “And in private?”
• “We’ll sleep in separate rooms.”
• His answer came so quickly, it almost hurt.
• He didn’t desire me.
• He didn’t find me attractive.
• It was better that way… wasn’t it?
• I nodded in silence.
• Dante took the iPad and signed first. His signature was elegant, steady—like his voice.
• Then he handed me the stylus.
• My hand trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the weight of knowing I was signing something I could never unsign within myself.
• I signed.
• And in that instant, Zoe Knight died.
• The ceremony happened later that week.
• Private.
• No guests.
• Just the notary, his assistant, and a photographer with dark sunglasses and a mechanical smile.
• I wore a minimalist white dress, tailored for me, the fabric hugging my curves perfectly, and held a small bouquet of lavender.
• He wore a black tuxedo without a single wrinkle.
• We looked like the perfect couple on a magazine cover… if you ignored the coldness in our eyes.
• “Would you like to kiss the bride?” the photographer asked, trying to sound cheerful.
• Dante looked at me, as if considering it.
• Then, instead of kissing me, he placed a golden chain around my neck. A necklace with a blue sapphire.
• “This will speak for us,” he whispered. “It’s the symbol that you belong to me… for one year.”
• I nodded. I said nothing.
• There were no words.
• None were needed.
• They took photos.
• We signed documents.
• And before I could truly process it, I was officially Mrs. Dante Salvatore.
• We moved that same night into his estate on the shores of Lake Léman, just outside Geneva.
• A modern Neo-Renaissance mansion with towering windows, floating staircases, and walls that smelled of marble and secrets.
• “This is your room,” he said, showing me a double-door entry.
• “Whatever you need, ask for it. Whatever you don’t want… burn it.”
• I opened the door.
• Inside, everything was white, delicate, silent.
• A walk-in closet filled with clothes.
• A queen-sized bed.
• A library with hand-picked books.
• A sanctuary… or a beautiful cage.
• I still wasn’t sure.
• Dante stood at the threshold.
• “Tomorrow we have a dinner with the press. They’ll announce our marriage.
• I need you to be… perfect.”
• I looked at him without fear.
• “I always was.
• No one ever noticed.”
• A pause. For a second, I thought I saw something flicker in his face.
• Admiration?
• Pain?
• “Then let them see you this time.”
• He stepped back.
• “Don’t fail me, Zoe.”
• I sat on the edge of the bed, barefoot, still in the dress.
• And then—just like that—he was beside me.
• “I think you’ll need help with the zipper.”
• It took me a moment to process what he meant.
• He stood, guiding me to face away.
• His fingers grazed down the line of my spine, tracing the exposed skin.
• I didn’t know if he realized what he was doing to my numb body.
• But I trembled with desire.
• I wanted this cold man to make love to me.
• I wanted to feel desired.
• But Dante treated me like any other employee.
• I had to stay away from him… before I did something foolish.
• Before I ended up even more humiliated than before.
• “Thank you.”
• He stepped away. I didn’t dare turn around.
• And then he was gone.
• I had signed a deal.
• Married the enemy.
• And in the mirror across from me, the woman staring back was no longer a victim.
• She was someone about to begin her revenge.