Chapter 5 Five

{Nico's POV}

The morning sun sliced through the heavy curtains, casting sharp streaks of light across the room. I stood before the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my suit with steady hands. It was a lie. My pulse wasn't as calm as it should have been. This wasn't just another transaction.

I was about to force a woman into marriage.

Elena Ricci wasn't just any woman, though. She was fire and fury wrapped in delicate porcelain skin. A weapon disguised as a pawn. A liability I had turned into an asset.

She didn't know it yet, but she was going to be my wife.

I took a deep breath and left my room, walking down the hall to hers. The door was locked, but that didn't matter-I had the key. With a quiet exhale, I unlocked it and stepped inside.

Elena was already awake.

She stood near the window, her back stiff, her fists clenched at her sides. She had changed into the corset gown I had provided for her-an emerald green masterpiece that matched the fire in her eyes. I had chosen it deliberately.

She looked over her shoulder, and the fury in her gaze was a thunderstorm. "You think I'll just go along with this?"

I shut the door behind me. "You don't have a choice."

Her gaze jerked up, green emerald eyes blazing with anger. "Like hell, I don't."

I signed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Elena –"

My patience was thinning. I had expected resistance, but I hadn't expected the sheer defiance burning in her gaze. Most people knew when to submit. Most people feared me.

But not her.

She'd rather set herself on fire than kneel.

I should have found it annoying. Instead, it only made me more certain-she was the one.

I stepped closer. She didn't move, but I saw the tension ripple through her body. "You were put up for auction. Do you really think you would have survived if I hadn't bought you?"

She hesitated.

I pressed on. "Dante Romano wasn't offering you protection. He was ordered to return you to Marco." I let the silence stretch, watching her absorb my words. "Marco doesn't keep loose ends alive."

Her laugh was bitter. "You think a forced marriage will change anything?"

"It changes everything."

I reached into my suit jacket, pulling out a slim stack of papers. I slid them across the table. "Read it."

I arched my brow. "Or would you rather I summarize?"

Elena clenched her jaw before snatching the papers off the table. Her eyes scanned the first page, her breath hitching slightly.

I waited.

Her gaze flicked up. "A one-year marriage contract?"

"Yes."

She kept reading. I knew the exact moment she reached the part about control.

Her fingers tightened on the paper. "I can't leave. I can't speak to anyone without your approval. I can't –" she cut herself off, eyes blazing. "This isn't marriage. This is a life sentence."

I shrugged. "Call it what you want, but you'll sign it."

She pushed the papers back toward me. "Go to hell."

I expected that.

Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing.

I let the silence stretch, let the weight of my words settle in.

Finally, she whispered, "Why did you buy me?"

The question should have been simple. It wasn't.

I met her gaze, letting the silence linger. Letting her feel the weight of it.

Why did I buy her?

The real answer was one I wasn't willing to admit-not yet.

Instead, I gave her the answer that would make the most sense. The one that would leave her with no other choice.

"Because if I hadn't, you'd be dead by now."

She flinched, just barely, but I caught it.

"You think Dante would have protected you?" I scoffed. "That man plays games for his amusement. He would have Macro tear you apart piece by piece just to watch."

Her fingers gripped her dress, trembling slightly despite her attempt to conceal her emotions.

She saw the sincerity in me.

I stood, walking around the table, closing the distance between us. I closed the distance between us, my gaze locking onto hers as she raised her

chin to meet my intense stare."

"You sign this contract," I murmured, "and you become untouchable."

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

I raised my hand, tracing my fingers along the edge of the paper she had pushed back at me. "One year, Elena. That's all I need."

She exhaled slowly. "And at the end of the year?"

"You walk away. Free."

She hesitated.

It was the only unwillingness I needed.

I reached the end of my pocket and pulled out a pen, setting it beside the contact. "Sign it, or walk out the door." I nodded towards the exit. "But if you walk out, you won't make it past twenty-four hours."

Her gazes blazed with anger, but beneath the surface, I glanced at a crack in her anger. Not fear-no, she was too obstinate for that.

Resignation.

She knew I was right.

Slowly, she reached for the pen.

I watched as she hovered over the paper, her knuckles white. Then, with one final inhale, she pressed the tip of the pen to the page and signed her name.

A slow smile pulled at my lips.

"Good girl."

The moment the ink dried on the contract I knew there was no turning back.

Elena was mine.

Not by choice but by force.

She stood opposite me, her face partially obscured by shadows. Her fists were clenched, and her breathing was slow and deliberate. I had predicted her to lash out, withstand, and yell at me for trapping her in this marriage. But she didn't.

She merely lifted her chin, her green eyes filled with hatred as she met my gaze.

I didn't need her love. I needed her to leap to me, under my possession, in my world where I could keep an eye on her.

Perfect timing I arranged for a priest and he was here the exact moment I wanted him. He was an old man, a loyal servant of my family, and even he knew this union was nothing holy. I just wanted Elena. The priest cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting to his feet.

"Say after me" the priest ordered.

She swallowed hard. "I Elena Ricci, take you, Nico Moretti, as my lawful husband."

The proclamations left her lips like a curse, each word drowned in venom.

Good. Let her hate me. It was easier that way.

Not for the reasons she thought.

Not for the reasons Dante assumed.

But because I wanted her.

And I wanted to know why Macro Moretti wanted her dead.

"You may now kiss the bride," the priest announced, his voice barely above a whisper.

Elena stiffened.

I took a slow step forward, watching the way she tightened as I reached for her. My fingers twined under her chin, leaning her face up to mine. Her pulse quivered against my thumb, betraying her otherwise composed body.

I could have kissed her.

I could have crushed my mouth against hers and claimed her in front of the priest, the guards, and the world.

But I didn't.

Instead, I sneered, my lips skimming the surface of her ear as I murmured, "Welcome to hell, Mrs. Moretti."

Then I released her and turned away.

"You are moving with me to my main estate." she did not utter a word to me. We settled into the back seat, Elena's body language screamed defiance as she sat beside me, her gaze fixed on the cityscape outside. Her tension was palpable, but she kept her eyes averted.

"Say whatever is on your mind," I finally said.

She said nothing.

I chuckled under my breath. "Silent treatment? That's cute."

She shifted in her seat but still didn't speak.

Fine.

She'd break eventually.

We arrived at the estate some hours later. The iron gates swung up and we glided up the driveway to the entrance. Before I could utter a word she had already leapt from the car.

I let her go.

Let her take in the towering mansion, the marble floors, the crystal chandeliers. Let her feel the weight of what had just happened.

This wasn't just a house.

This was a cage.

And she would be locked for as long as I wanted.

She turned to me as I stepped out of the car, her eyes burning with boldness. "You think you own me now?"

I smirked. "I don't think so, Elena. I know."

Her temper flared, but before she could spit another insult at me, I motioned to one of the maids. "Show my wife to her room."

Elena stiffened. "For once you knew the right thing to do."

I totter my head, amused. "Did you think I'd share a bed with you?"

A spark of something crossed her face. Anger? Embarrassment?

I didn't wait for her reply.

"Your room is next to mine," I added, my voice turning cold. "Lock the door if you want. It won't make a difference."

She stormed past me, her heels relating sharply against the floor. I kept an eye on her till she disappeared down the hall before exhaling slowly, running a hand through my hair.

This marriage was a game of power.

And I never lost.