Owned by the enemy

There are moments in life that split you-before and after. You never see them coming, never feel the ground shifting until it's already split beneath your feet.

I didn't know it then, but my life changed the second my father's voice echoed through the hallway.

"My office. Now."

Two words. No context. No emotion. Just command.

I was curled up on my window seat, a book open in my lap that I hadn't been reading. My gaze had been fixed on the gray sky outside, letting my thoughts drift into somewhere else. Somewhere far away from the tension that had settled in the Morreti estate like a permanent storm cloud.

That tone in his voice-I knew it too well. It was the tone that left no room for hesitation.

Still, I hesitated.

I wanted to ignore him, to pretend I hadn't heard. But I didn't. Because no one ignored Luca Morreti. Not even his daughter.

Slipping on my sweater, I padded through the cold marble halls, each step echoing louder than the last. As I approached the double doors of his office, I paused. The air was heavy on the other side. Stale. Serious.

I knocked once, then pushed the door open.

He was standing near the bar cart, pouring two fingers of whiskey into a crystal glass. Across from him, seated like a silent shadow in one of the high-backed chairs, was a man I didn't recognize-at least not immediately.

But when his eyes met mine, everything in me stilled.

Dante Romano.

I knew the name. Everyone in our world did.

He wasn't just a man. He was legend. Power in human form. Dangerous. Cold. Ruthless. Rumors swirled around him like smoke-things no one dared say aloud.

And he was sitting in my father's office like he belonged there.

My heart thudded once, hard.

I turned to my father. "What's going on?"

He took a slow sip before speaking. "You're getting married."

I laughed. A sharp, humorless sound. "I'm sorry-what?"

"To him." He gestured toward Dante, who hadn't moved, hadn't blinked. He just watched me, like he was sizing up a puzzle piece he didn't ask for.

I stared at them both, waiting for the punchline.

There wasn't one.

"I'm not marrying anyone," I said, voice rising.

My father's face hardened. "You'll do as you're told."

"I'm not a pawn."

He set his glass down, the crystal clinking against the mahogany desk. "You are my daughter. And this is bigger than you. Than your wants, your feelings. This is about ending a war."

My pulse was a drumbeat. Loud. Relentless.

"Two days," he said. "The wedding is in two days. You'll be prepared."

"No-no! You can't just throw me into the arms of a stranger like I'm property-"

Dante finally spoke. "I'm not a stranger, cara."

His voice was low. Smooth. Lethal.

And infuriating.

"Then what are you?" I snapped.

His eyes darkened slightly. "Your future."

I wanted to scream. Cry. Break something. But I stood still, forcing back the panic rising in my throat.

"You're ruining my life," I whispered to my father.

He didn't flinch. "I'm saving it."

---

I stormed out of the office, my heart pounding so loud it drowned everything else. My hands shook as I made it back to my room, slamming the door behind me.

I paced.

I cursed.

And then I collapsed onto the floor, burying my face in my hands.

Two days. Forty-eight hours to say goodbye to the version of me that believed I'd have a choice in my future. That love might come naturally. That I wouldn't be handed over like a peace offering.

I barely knew Dante. Only what the whispers said-that he ruled with iron fists and colder eyes, that he'd buried enemies with smiles and turned allies into ashes.

And that was the man I was supposed to marry?

To live with?

To... sleep beside?

No.

I wouldn't do it.

---

Later that night, I heard a knock.

"Come in," I muttered without looking up from my bed.

It was Elena, my longtime maid-practically family.

Her face was pale. She held a dress bag in her hands, trembling slightly.

"Preparations begin tomorrow," she said softly. "Your measurements, the fittings. Hair, makeup. Everything."

"Elena," I whispered, voice breaking, "tell me I don't have to do this."

Her eyes filled with tears. "I wish I could."

She placed the bag gently on the chair, then left.

---

That night, I didn't sleep.

I stared at the ceiling, the echo of Dante's voice replaying in my mind.

Your future.

I hated him for it.

For how calm he looked while my world fell apart.

And yet, somewhere deep in my chest... was something else.

A flicker of curiosity.

Of fear.

Of intrigue.

Because while I didn't want him-I didn't know him-something about him unsettled me.

He didn't try to convince me.

Didn't charm or comfort me.

He just waited.

Like he knew he wouldn't have to try.

Like he already owned me