Chapter 2

The woman beneath him meant nothing.

Luca Cortese moved with mechanical precision, his hands gripping the headboard as he drove into her with practiced efficiency. She moaned and arched beneath him, clawing at his shoulders, whispering his name like a prayer. He felt nothing.

"Luca, yes, please—"

"Shut up," he said quietly, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

When it was over, he pulled away immediately, already reaching for his clothes. The woman—Sofia, he thought her name was, though it didn't matter—stretched languidly on the rumpled sheets, clearly expecting some form of afterglow intimacy.

"That was incredible," she purred, running her fingers down his back. "When can I see you again?"

Luca stepped into his trousers and reached for his shirt. "You can't."

"What do you mean?"

He turned to look at her, his dark eyes completely cold. "We fucked. Nothing more. You're just my whore, and now I'm done with you."

Sofia's face crumpled. "But I thought—"

"You thought wrong." Luca buttoned his shirt with practiced efficiency. "There's money on the dresser. Use the back exit."

He left her there, naked and crying, without a backward glance. In three hours, he had an obligation to fulfill—meeting his future wife for the first time. After today, encounters like this would end. Not out of sentiment or sudden moral awakening, but because adultery would complicate his marriage in ways he couldn't afford.

Loyalty to Aurora Cortese would be just another business decision. Clean, practical, efficient.

The Santelli estate sprawled across five manicured acres in the most exclusive part of the city, all marble columns and manicured gardens designed to impress. Luca arrived precisely on time, his driver opening the car door as he stepped out into the afternoon sun. He wore his best charcoal suit, not to honor his bride-to-be, but because appearances mattered in their world.

Vincent Santelli met him at the door, the older man's nervousness obvious in the way he wrung his hands and avoided direct eye contact.

"Mr. Cortese," Vincent said with forced joviality. "Welcome to our home. Aurora is waiting in the main parlor with the family."

Family. Luca had expected a private meeting, but apparently the Santellis wanted to make this a social occasion. He followed Vincent through corridors lined with expensive art, noting security cameras and exit points with automatic precision.

The parlor was full of people—Aurora's extended family, judging by the resemblance. Her mother, Maria Santelli, rose from her chair with a nervous smile. Several younger women clustered around the coffee service, and an elderly woman sat regally in a wingback chair near the window.

And there, perched on the edge of a sofa like a bird ready to take flight, was Aurora.

She was even smaller than her photographs had suggested, delicate in a way that made something primitive stir in his chest. Dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders, framing a face that was more pretty than beautiful—but it was an interesting prettiness, the kind that would age well. She wore a simple green dress that brought out her eyes, no jewelry except small pearl earrings.

She looked terrified.

"Aurora," Vincent said, "this is Luca Cortese. Luca, my daughter."

Aurora stood slowly, her hands clasped so tightly in front of her that her knuckles showed white. "Mr. Cortese."

"Aurora." He didn't offer his hand, didn't move closer. Simply studied her with the same attention he might give a thoroughbred horse he was considering purchasing.

She was younger than he'd expected, more fragile. Good bone structure, clear skin, intelligent eyes currently wide with fear. She would photograph well at social events, which was important. The terror would fade once she understood her place.

"Please, sit," Maria Santelli said, her voice bright with forced cheer. "Would you like coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee. Black." Luca settled into the chair across from Aurora, noting how she shrank back against the sofa cushions when he looked directly at her.

The room fell into awkward silence broken only by the clink of china as Maria prepared his coffee. Aurora's female relatives whispered among themselves, shooting glances in his direction that they thought were subtle.

"He's staring at her," one of them murmured—a girl about Aurora's age with similar features. Her cousin, probably.

"Sophia, hush," another woman hissed.

But the cousin was right. Luca was staring, cataloging every detail of his future wife's appearance and demeanor. The way she bit her lower lip when nervous. The tremor in her hands that she couldn't quite hide. The rapid rise and fall of her chest that suggested she was fighting panic.

"Is he always this intense?" Sophia whispered to Aurora, apparently thinking her voice was low enough that he couldn't hear.

Aurora's cheeks flushed crimson. "Sophia, please."

Luca said nothing, simply continued his assessment. Aurora Santelli would need to learn to handle scrutiny if she was going to be his wife. Better she get used to it now.

The elderly woman in the wingback chair suddenly spoke, her voice carrying the authority of age and family position.

"Young man," she said, fixing Luca with a sharp stare. "I am Carmela Santelli, Aurora's great-aunt. We need to discuss certain... expectations."

"Aunt Carmela," Vincent said quickly, "perhaps this isn't the time—"

"It's exactly the time." Carmela's voice brooked no argument. She turned her attention to Aurora, who had gone very pale. "Child, come here."

Aurora looked like she might faint, but she stood and approached the older woman's chair. Carmela reached out and gripped her great-niece's hand with surprising strength.

"You understand what's expected of you as a wife?" Carmela asked, her voice pitched to carry across the room.

"Aunt Carmela, please," Aurora whispered, mortification clear in her voice.

"Modesty is admirable, but ignorance is dangerous." Carmela's eyes flicked to Luca, then back to Aurora. "You will be examined after the wedding night. The sheets must show proof of your purity, or the marriage can be annulled and our family dishonored."

The color drained completely from Aurora's face. She swayed on her feet, and for a moment Luca thought she might collapse right there in front of everyone.

"There should be blood," Carmela continued ruthlessly. "Red blood on white sheets. It's tradition, child. It protects both families' honor."

Aurora made a small, choked sound. Her cousin Sophia rose from her chair, moving to Aurora's side with protective instincts that Luca noted and filed away.

"She understands, Aunt Carmela," Sophia said firmly. "Aurora has been raised properly."

"I'm sure she has." Carmela finally released Aurora's hand. "But understanding and experiencing are different things. Marriage is not a fairy tale, child. It's duty, obligation, sacrifice. The sooner you accept that, the better."

Aurora nodded mutely, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. She returned to her seat on shaking legs, her face now paper-white.

Luca watched this exchange with clinical interest. The virginity test was an old tradition, one his own family observed. He had assumed Aurora understood this requirement, but clearly no one had explained the specifics to her. Her terror was palpable now, filling the room like smoke.

Good. Fear would make her compliant.

"The wedding preparations are progressing well," Maria said desperately, trying to restore some normalcy to the conversation. "The flowers have been ordered, the church reserved—"

"Four weeks," Luca said quietly, speaking for the first time since his arrival. His voice cut through Maria's nervous chatter like a blade. "Four weeks, and Aurora becomes my responsibility."

The possessive way he said it made Aurora flinch visibly. Her cousin Sophia shot him a look that could have melted steel, but she was smart enough not to voice whatever she was thinking.

Luca stood, the movement sudden enough to make Aurora gasp softly. "I've seen what I needed to see."

"You're leaving already?" Vincent asked, confusion clear in his voice.

"We have nothing to discuss." Luca straightened his jacket with precise movements. "Aurora meets my requirements. The arrangements can proceed as planned."

Requirements. Like she was equipment being delivered to specification. Aurora's face crumpled slightly, but she managed to hold back tears through sheer force of will.

Luca paused at the parlor entrance, turning back to look at his future bride one last time. She sat frozen on the sofa, surrounded by family who couldn't protect her, facing a future that terrified her more with each passing moment.

"Aurora," he said quietly.

She looked up at him with those wide, frightened eyes.

"Four weeks," he repeated. "Use them wisely."

The threat was subtle but unmistakable. She had four weeks to prepare herself for whatever version of Aurora Cortese he would require her to become.

As Luca left the Santelli estate, he found himself thinking about the fear in Aurora's eyes when her great-aunt spoke of blood and duty. She was even more naive than he'd expected, more sheltered from the realities of their world.

No matter. She would learn quickly once she belonged to him.

In his car, Luca pulled out his phone and deleted Sofia's number from his contacts. After the wedding, there would be no more casual encounters, no more meaningless physical release with women whose names he barely remembered. Not because of sentiment, but because Aurora Cortese deserved a husband who kept his vows.

It was simply good business.

But as the car pulled away from the estate, Luca couldn't quite banish the image of Aurora's terrified face when she learned what their wedding night would really require of her. For just a moment, something that might have been conscience stirred in his chest.

He dismissed it immediately. Conscience was a luxury he couldn't afford, and Aurora Santelli would have to learn the same lesson.

In four weeks, she would be his wife.

In four weeks, everything would change for both of them.

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