Chapter 7

• Clara sat stiff as a board in the back of the shiny black car. It rolled through dark streets, twisting and turning, taking her farther into a world she didn’t know. The engagement dinner had ended hours ago, but it still sat heavy in her chest, like a rope tightening around her neck. She couldn’t shake it—the memory of that knife, the sting on her finger, the blood smearing the paper. She’d signed it. She was tied to Dante Costa now, official and real, whether she liked it or not.
• Her stomach flipped over, sour and uneasy. She snuck a quick look at him from the corner of her eye. He was right there beside her, sprawled out like he didn’t have a care in the world. One arm stretched across the back of the seat, his fingers tapping slow and lazy on the leather. He didn’t look worried or mad—not like her, with her heart pounding and her head spinning. To him, this was just another day, just some deal he’d made. She hated how calm he was. Hated him for making this feel so easy when it was tearing her apart.
• “You always this quiet, amore?” Dante said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
• Clara whipped her head around to glare at him. “Don’t call me that,” she snapped, her voice sharp.
• He smirked, that stupid little grin that made her want to wipe it off his face. “You’re gonna have to get used to it, sweetheart,” he said, leaning back even more. “We’re engaged now.”
• She crossed her arms tight over her chest, her nails digging into her sleeves. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she shot back.
• He laughed—a low, rumbling sound that grated on her nerves. “No, it doesn’t,” he said. “But liking it or not changes nothing.”
• Clara pressed her lips together hard, trying to keep her anger down. She turned her head away, staring out the window instead. The glass was cool against her cheek as she watched the dark shapes of trees and buildings blur by. She didn’t want to talk to him—didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting under her skin even more.
• The car slowed down, tires crunching on gravel as they pulled into a long driveway. They were back at the Costa estate—her new home, whether she wanted it or not. At night, the place looked even scarier. Lights glowed soft around the edges, making the huge mansion stand out against the black sky. The tall iron gates clanged shut behind them, loud and final, like a jail door locking her in. Her chest tightened. There was no running from this now.
• Dante got out first, smoothing his suit jacket like he was posing for a picture. He turned and held out his hand to her, waiting. Clara stared at it for a second, her stomach twisting. She didn’t want his help—didn’t want to touch him at all. So she ignored his hand and climbed out on her own, her shoes hitting the ground with a quiet thud.
• His smirk grew bigger, but he didn’t say a word about it. He just turned and started walking toward the big front doors.
• Inside, the mansion was quiet—too quiet. The fancy hallways stretched out long and empty, the gold and black decorations looking eerie in the dim light. Most of the people who worked there were gone for the night, leaving just a few guys in suits hanging around. They stood still, watching her with blank faces as she passed. It made her skin crawl.
• “Come on,” Dante said, his voice casual but firm. He headed for the huge staircase in the middle of the room, not even looking back to see if she’d follow.
• Clara didn’t want to go with him, but her feet moved anyway. Her heart pounded harder with every step, thumping loud in her ears. She didn’t know where he was taking her, but she had a bad feeling about it.
• They climbed the stairs, the wood creaking under her shoes. When they got to the top, Dante led her down a long hall lined with big doors. He stopped at one and pushed it open, then turned to her with a look that said he knew something she didn’t.
• “This is our room,” he said, his voice smooth and steady.
• Clara’s eyes went wide, her breath catching in her throat. “You’re saying I have to sleep here? With you?” she asked, her voice rising.
• His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile that made her stomach flip again. “That’s what engaged people do, right?” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
• Her pulse shot up, racing so fast she could feel it in her fingertips. “No way,” she said, shaking her head hard. “I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you.”
• Dante leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. His hazel eyes locked on hers, sharp and steady, like a wolf watching its next meal. “Relax, sweetheart,” he said, his tone lazy but edged with something darker. “I don’t touch women who don’t want me to.”
• Clara swallowed hard, her mouth dry. There was something in his voice—something dangerous but calm—that sent a shiver down her back. She didn’t know if she believed him, but she didn’t want to test it either.
• “Then I’ll sleep somewhere else,” she said, lifting her chin like she could still fight him on this.
• He chuckled, a quiet sound that made her feel small. “No, you won’t,” he said, shaking his head.
• Her eyebrows scrunched up. “What do you mean, no?” she asked, her voice sharp.
• He stepped closer, and suddenly he was too close—his tall frame filling up all the space, making it hard to breathe. “You’re mine now, Clara,” he said, his voice low and sure. “And as long as you’ve got my ring on your finger, you sleep where I say—under my roof, in my bed, where I can watch you.”
• Her throat went tight, like she couldn’t get enough air. She wanted to argue, to tell him he couldn’t boss her around like that. “You can’t decide where I sleep,” she said, but it came out quieter than she meant, weak and shaky.
• Dante tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. “Watch me,” he said, simple and final.
• The air between them felt heavy, crackling with something she couldn’t name. She wanted to push back, to yell, to run—anything to show him she wasn’t his to control. But she was stuck, pinned by his stare and the truth of her situation.
• Finally, she broke the silence. “Fine,” she muttered, shoving past him into the room. Her shoulder brushed his chest, and she ignored the quick spark that jolted through her. “But you stay on your side of the bed.”
• Dante laughed again, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. “As you wish, amore,” he said, his voice teasing but smooth.
• Clara didn’t look at him. She marched over to the bed.