Chapter 1 - The Choice
The silence inside the cramped office of Higgins Freight Solutions was absolute.
Savannah gave a startled, breathless laugh, her blue eyes wide with disbelief as she looked between Dante Rosetti and her older sister. "You’re serious? Her?"
Arthur Higgins blinked, his face twisting into a grotesque mixture of confusion and panic. "Mr. Rosetti... Clara? She’s—she’s the accountant. She stays in the back. Savannah is the one who handles public relations, she’s the face of—"
"I don't need a face," Dante said softly, his voice dropping into a register that made the hair on the back of Clara’s neck stand up. "I have plenty of faces. I need someone who understands where four million dollars disappears into thin air."
Clara remained frozen behind her battered metal desk. Her heart was hammered violently against her ribs, but her face remained carefully blank. She was twenty-four years old, accustomed to being overlooked, used to being the invisible machinery that kept her family’s sinking ship afloat while her father and sister took the bows.
Dante stepped closer to her desk. He didn't look at her body with the subtle disgust she usually caught from men in her father's social circles. His gray eyes were analytical, sharp, and intense.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Clara," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins. "Clara Higgins."
"Clara," Dante repeated, testing the weight of the name on his tongue. "If you stay here, your father goes to prison or into the river. The company assets will be seized by my liquidators by five o'clock today. Your sister’s lifestyle ends tonight."
Arthur flinched. Savannah let out a soft, horrified squeak.
"And if I go with you?" Clara asked, holding his gaze.
"The four-million-dollar debt is wiped," Dante said smoothly. "Higgins Freight remains operational under my oversight. Your father keeps his home. Your sister keeps her allowance. And you become my wife."
"Wife?" Arthur stammered. "You... you want to marry her?"
Dante didn't take his eyes off Clara. "A business partnership secured by contract. My family requires stability in our logistics operations. Your daughter has proven she can protect an empire's books. I am offering her a position."
Clara looked at her father. Arthur wasn't looking at her with concern or paternal protection; he was looking at her with desperate, pleading eyes. He was ready to throw her to the mob boss if it meant saving his own skin. She looked at Savannah, who was already recovering her composure, a faint look of relief washing over her face that she wasn't the one being taken.
They had spent her entire life using her as a shield.
"Forty-eight hours," Clara said quietly. "I need forty-eight hours to audit the remaining accounts and ensure the staff's payroll is cleared for the next quarter."
Dante’s lips twitched—not a smile, but a subtle movement of approval. "You have two days, Clara. On Friday morning, a car will pick you up."
He turned on his heel and walked out of the office. The older, scarred man who had accompanied him—his trusted underboss, Matteo—gave Clara a long, searching look before following his boss out into the Chicago cold.
The moment the heavy glass door clicked shut, Arthur collapsed into a chair, letting out a long, ragged breath. "Thank God," he muttered. "Thank God he took the deal."
He didn't say Thank you, Clara. He didn't ask if she was terrified.
May you like
Savannah crossed her arms, looking at Clara with a strange, backhanded pity. "Well... at least you won't have to worry about finding a husband anymore, Clara. Even if it is Dante Rosetti."
Clara pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, looked down at her glowing monitor, and swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. "Get out of my office," she whispered. "I have work to do."
