Florence, Italy
2:17 a.m.
The smell of blood was overpowering.
Arohi Sen pressed her gloved hands against the open wound, her heart racing as warm, sticky liquid oozed between her fingers. The dim emergency room echoed with the flat-line beep of a nearby monitor. Outside, rain battered the windows like bullets.
"This man will die if you don't stop the bleeding!" shouted Dr. Russo, tossing a clamp into Arohi's shaking hands. Her eyes snapped to the patient's face—sharp jaw, blood-matted dark hair, sculpted like a god even in agony.
But what rattled her most… were his eyes.
Icy. Piercing. Burning into hers as if he could read her soul.
And full of rage.
"Who is he?" she whispered.
The nurse beside her paled. "Dante Salvatore."
Arohi's blood ran cold.
She had heard the name only in whispered rumors: the mafia king of Italy. A billionaire CEO by day, and a ghost in the criminal underworld by night. Ruthless. Unforgiving. Untouchable.
And now... bleeding out in her ER.
She focused on the wound. A deep gash across his ribs, likely from a knife. His pulse was erratic. One wrong move, and he'd die.
But he didn't. Not on her table.
She saved him.
It took two hours, a blood transfusion, and stitching through nerve-wracking silence—his eyes open the whole time, watching her like a predator.
As they wheeled him out, her legs gave out.
She collapsed onto the cold hospital floor, unaware that he was still watching her.
Two Days Later
Outside Arohi's apartment, dusk
She fumbled with her keys when a hand clamped around her wrist.
She gasped, heart thudding. "W-Who—?"
He stepped into the light.
Dante Salvatore. No longer bloodied, now dressed in an obsidian suit that clung to his tall, imposing frame like a second skin. Eyes unreadable. Dangerous.
"You saved my life," he said, voice like thunder wrapped in silk.
"I-it was my job," she whispered.
"No," he said coldly, stepping closer. "It was a choice."
Her back hit the wall. Her breath caught.
"I don't like choices being made for me," he growled. "Especially when they make me owe someone."
His gaze dropped to her lips.
"I hate debts, Dottorina. So I'll repay it."
"I don't want anything," she replied, trembling.
But he was already reaching into his coat.
She flinched.
But instead of a weapon, he pulled out a manila envelope—and shoved it into her hands.
She hesitated… and opened it.
Her heart stopped.
A marriage contract. Her name. His name. Terms. Clauses. Signatures.
"What… what is this?"
His smile was cold and cruel. "A solution. You saved my life. Now you'll belong to it."
Arohi's vision blurred. "You're insane."
"Maybe. But you're mine now."
---
To be continued…
Cliffhanger: What happens next? Why is Dante forcing this marriage? Is he protecting her from something—or claiming her as part of a deeper plan?