Chapter 4

• Morning came way too fast.
• Clara hadn’t slept much—maybe an hour or two, if that. Her head was too full, her chest too heavy. Every time she shut her eyes, she saw Ethan and Sofia all tangled up, laughing at her like she was some big joke. Then Ricardo’s cold green eyes would pop into her mind, staring her down, reminding her she was stuck. She couldn’t run, couldn’t fight—not unless she wanted her little sister to pay for it. A sister she didn’t even know existed until last night. It was all too much, pressing down on her like a big, dark cloud she couldn’t shake.
• Now she stood in front of a huge mirror that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Rosa had picked out a silky dress for her—soft and pale, like something a princess might wear. It hugged her body in a way that made her feel weird, like she wasn’t herself anymore. She ran her hands over the smooth fabric, trying to calm her shaky nerves. Today, she’d meet Dante Costa—the guy she was supposed to marry. She didn’t know what he’d be like, but if he was anything like Ricardo, she was walking straight into a trap. A lion’s den, like Rosa had said last night.
• A loud knock on the door made her jump. Her heart skipped a beat.
• Rosa poked her head in, her kind brown eyes meeting Clara’s. “It’s time,” she said softly.
• Clara sucked in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and nodded. She followed Rosa out of the room, her stomach twisting tighter with every step.
• The Costa Estate
• The car ride was quiet—too quiet. Clara sat in the back of a shiny black car, the leather seats cool against her legs. Ricardo was next to her, staring straight ahead, not saying a word. She didn’t want to talk to him anyway. She kept her eyes on the window instead, watching the world blur by as they drove to the Costa estate.
• When they got there, her jaw nearly dropped. The place was huge—bigger than anything she’d ever seen. Tall iron gates stood in front of them, guarded by guys in dark suits who looked like they didn’t mess around. Their faces were blank, but their eyes were sharp, scanning everything. The gates swung open as soon as the car rolled up, like they’d been waiting for them.
• Inside, the mansion was even crazier. It looked like a castle made of money—white marble columns, a long stone driveway that seemed to go on forever, and a giant front entrance that screamed power. It wasn’t just rich—it felt dangerous, like the kind of place where secrets lived in every corner. Clara’s fingers curled into her lap, her nails digging into her palms as the car pulled to a stop.
• Ricardo turned to her, his voice low and steady. “Remember,” he said. “You smile. You act nice. And you go along with this engagement like it’s your idea. Got it?”
• Clara looked at him, keeping her face blank. “Or what? You’ll hurt my sister?”
• He smirked, just a little. “Smart girl.”
• She hated him so much it burned.
• The car door opened, and a guy in a suit waved for her to get out. Clara forced her legs to move, even though her heart was hammering like it wanted to break out of her chest.
• The inside of the mansion was just as fancy as the outside. Black and gold everywhere—shiny floors, huge chandeliers dripping with crystals, fancy paintings on the walls. It smelled like expensive cologne and leather, and the air felt heavy, like it was pressing down on her. She barely had time to look around before a deep voice cut through the quiet.
• “You’re late.”
• Clara spun around.
• And there he was.
• Dante Costa.
• He was leaning against a big, curving staircase, one hand in his pocket, looking at her like he owned the whole world. His hazel eyes were sharp and bright, locked on her with a quiet kind of power that made her skin prickle. He was tall—taller than Ricardo, with broad shoulders that filled out his fancy suit. His dark hair was messy, but in a way that looked like he’d meant it to be that way. The suit fit him perfect, hugging his strong frame, but there was something about him—something wild and rough under all that polish. Something that said he wasn’t safe.
• And his face… oh man, his face. Clara’s breath caught in her throat. He was gorgeous—not like Ethan, who’d been cute and friendly. Dante was different. His jaw was hard, his lips set in a straight line, and his eyes cut through her like knives. He wasn’t just good-looking—he was dangerous-looking, like a storm wrapped up in a person. She didn’t want to admit it, but he was the kind of beautiful that made her heart skip, even though she hated him already.
• This was the guy she was supposed to marry? Her mouth went dry.
• Dante pushed off the staircase and walked toward her, his steps smooth and sure, like a cat stalking something. “So,” he said, his voice low and cool, “this is the girl I’m marrying.”
• There was no friendliness in his tone. No smile. Just a flat, icy stare as he looked her up and down, sizing her up.
• Clara lifted her chin, refusing to let him scare her. “And you must be Dante Costa,” she shot back, keeping her voice just as cold. “Nice way to say hello.”
• A slow smirk pulled at one corner of his mouth, like he thought she was funny. “You’ve got some fire. I like that.”
• She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t care what you like.”
• Ricardo coughed loud, stepping between them like a referee. “That’s enough,” he said sharply. “This isn’t up for debate. The engagement’s happening today.”
• Dante didn’t even glance at Ricardo. His eyes stayed on Clara, pinning her in place. Then, before she could react, he moved closer—way too close. Her breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers brushing along her jaw.
• She froze. Her whole body locked up, like she didn’t know what to do. His touch was light, but it sent a spark through her—a weird, hot jolt that she didn’t expect and didn’t want. It made her mad, but it also made her heart race faster.
• Dante’s smirk grew, his thumb barely sliding over her skin. “You look nervous, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing.
• Clara forced herself to stare back at him, even though her insides were flipping. “You wish,” she snapped, trying to sound tough.
• His eyes darkened, something flickering in them she couldn’t figure out—maybe anger, maybe something else. But before he could say anything more, another voice broke in.
• “Looks like you’ve met my big brother.”
• Clara turned her head quick. Another guy stood at the edge of the room, leaning against the wall with a grin.
• Enzo Costa.
• He was a little younger than Dante, just as tall but not as hard-edged. His face was softer, his dark hair neater, and his hazel eyes—same color as Dante’s—were warm instead of cold. Where Dante looked like a predator, Enzo looked like the guy who’d crack a joke to make you laugh. He walked over, his smile easy, and stuck out his hand.
• “You must be Clara,” he said. “Welcome to the family.”
• Clara paused, then shook his hand, her fingers shaky but glad for something normal. Enzo felt safe in a way Dante didn’t—like he wasn’t about to bite her head off.
• Dante chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “Watch it, little brother. You might make my fiancée forget who she’s tied to.”
• Clara yanked her hand back from Enzo’s, glaring at Dante hard. “I’m not tied to anyone,” she said, her voice sharp and loud.
• Dante’s smirk came back, but this time it had a shadow behind it—something darker, something that made her stomach twist. “You will be,” he said, soft but sure.
• The room felt like it shrank, the air getting thick and heavy. Clara’s chest burned with hate. She’d never wanted to punch someone as bad as she wanted to punch Dante Costa right then. He was smug, rude, and acted like he owned her already. She couldn’t stand him.
• But at the same time, she couldn’t ignore that pull—the weird, electric thing that sparked when he got close. It wasn’t just fear. It was something else, something confusing that made her mad at herself. And that scared her more than Dante’s cold eyes or Ricardo’s threats.