Chapter 2 - The Contract of ConvenienceThe west wing of the Moretti estate was a fortress of marble, bulletproof glass, and warm mahogany. Within two hours, Camila had been provided with a private suite, a hot shower, and clean clothes—a soft cashmere sweater and tailored trousers that fit surprisingly well.
A quiet knocking sounded at her door. She opened it to find Marcus standing in the hallway, holding two crystal glasses and a bottle of vintage red wine.
"May I come in?" he asked.
"It’s your house," Camila pointed out softly.
"You are my guest, not my prisoner," Marcus corrected, stepping inside and setting the glasses on a small side table. He poured a small amount of wine and handed her a glass. "Gianni’s team finished a preliminary sweep of Adrien’s private communications. You were right."
Camila took a small sip of the wine, feeling its warmth spread through her chest. "What did they find?"
"Adrien was heavily leveraged in European real estate. Sal Valenti bought his debts six months ago," Marcus explained, leaning against the marble fireplace mantel. "The plan was simple. I would sign the contract today. Tomorrow, a woman from Palermo would come forward with documents proving my late father had secretly adopted her or that she was my half-sister—making her the legal 'erede legittimo'. The Moretti empire would have been absorbed into the Valenti network without a single bullet being fired."
He looked at her intensely, his hazel eyes locking onto hers with an unreadable weight.
"You saved me from complete ruin, Camila. And Marcus Moretti never leaves a debt unpaid."
Camila set her glass down, pulling her arms across her chest defensively. "I didn't do it for a reward, Mr. Moretti. I did it because I hate watching corrupt men use contracts to destroy people who don't deserve it."
"I made a promise on the steps of Moretti Tower this morning," Marcus said, his voice quiet, rich, and utterly serious. "Dozens of reporters and attorneys heard it. The press is already running the story: The Mob Prince and the Homeless Law Student."
Camila let out a dry, incredulous laugh. "You were making a point to your attorneys! You weren't serious."
"I am always serious," Marcus said, stepping closer to her. "The family council is meeting in forty-eight hours. My position as interim head is fragile. If I appear weak, or if the board thinks I am vulnerable to internal sabotage, a war will break out on the streets of New York. But if I show up to that meeting with a brilliant wife who just exposed a Valenti conspiracy, and if we legally lock the succession through a binding marriage contract..."
"You want to turn a sarcastic challenge into a fake marriage?" Camila asked, her eyes widening.
"Not fake. Legal," Marcus countered. "A business arrangement. You need protection, resources, and a way to reclaim your life. I need a mind like yours beside me to survive the coming months. You will have your own wing in this house, unlimited access to my legal library, a full stipend, and my personal security detail."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple, elegant platinum band set with a flawless emerald-cut diamond.
"One year," Marcus proposed. "You help me restructure the Moretti family's legal framework and defeat the Valenti faction. At the end of twelve months, if you wish to leave, I will give you ten million dollars, clear your father's remaining debts completely, and pay for your final year at any law school in the country."
Camila looked at the glittering ring, then up at the formidable man standing before her. She had spent three years fighting just to survive the freezing nights of Brooklyn. She knew the dangers of entering Marcus Moretti's world, but she also saw the desperate, fierce loyalty he had for his people—and the genuine respect in his eyes when he looked at her.
"I have conditions," Camila said, her voice steady and resolute.
A faint, amused smile touched Marcus’s lips. "I would expect nothing less from you, Miss Vance. State them."
"First, I am your partner, not your showpiece. I review every single legal document before you sign it," Camila stated firmly. "Second, we find out who dropped that envelope at the shelter. Someone else knew about Adrien’s trap, and I want to know whose game we are playing."
Marcus stared at her for a long second, his heart beating a little faster against his ribs. "Agreed. What else?"
"Third... if we do this," Camila said, looking directly into his eyes, "it remains a professional arrangement. No physical expectations."
May you like
Marcus took her hand, his warm fingers brushing against her knuckles as he slowly slipped the platinum ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
"You have my word, Camila," Marcus whispered, his thumb lightly lingering against her wrist, where her pulse fluttered wildly. "In my world, a contract signed in blood is sacred. But a word given to my wife is absolute."
