Chapter 1 - The Daughter Nobody Chose“And if I say no?”
Clara's voice was quieter than she wanted.
But it didn't shake.
Dante Rosetti watched her for several seconds.
Then he straightened.
“If you say no, I leave.”
Clara blinked.
That was not the answer she expected.
He continued.
“Your father's company will likely collapse within the week.”
Arthur made a desperate sound.
“Dante—”
Dante lifted one hand.
Arthur stopped talking.
“I won't punish you for refusing me,” Dante said. “But I won't forgive the debt either.”
Clara looked at her father.
Arthur wouldn't meet her eyes.
She turned back to Dante.
“Why me?”
“You already asked.”
“And you gave me an answer about my bookkeeping.”
“It's part of it.”
“What is the other part?”
Dante's expression became unreadable.
“I don't need a woman who wants my money.”
“Savannah doesn't want your money.”
Dante glanced at Savannah.
Savannah's face flushed.
Clara almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
“She wants what your name can buy her,” Dante said.
Savannah folded her arms.
“You don't know me.”
“I know enough.”
His gaze returned to Clara.
“But you…”
His eyes moved over her plain navy blouse, sensible trousers, inexpensive shoes, and hair tied into a messy knot because she had spent the last six hours fixing other people's mistakes.
“You looked at a man everyone in Chicago fears and argued about printer paper three minutes later.”
Clara frowned.
“That was before I knew who you were.”
“And now?”
“I know who you are.”
“And you're still arguing.”
She almost smiled.
“Perhaps I'm defective.”
“No.”
Dante's voice softened.
“Perhaps you're honest.”
Something in her chest shifted.
She hated that.
She especially hated that she wanted to hear him say it again.
Arthur stepped forward.
“Clara, please.”
She looked at her father.
His eyes were pleading.
That was the problem.
Arthur never apologized.
He pleaded.
He demanded.
He manipulated.
But when something truly frightened him, he looked at Clara as if she were the only person who could repair the world.
And for twenty-four years, she had done it.
Until now.
“What happens to Savannah?”
Dante looked at her.
“She stays out of this.”
“And my father?”
“I erase the debt.”
“And the employees?”
“The company remains operational.”
Clara lowered her gaze.
“How long?”
Dante's brow furrowed.
“Excuse me?”
“How long would I have to stay married to you?”
He stared at her.
“A year.”
Her heartbeat changed.
“A year?”
“If either of us wants out after one year, the marriage ends.”
“And before then?”
“We honor the agreement.”
“What agreement?”
“You will live in my house. You will accompany me when appearances require it. You will have access to your own accounts, your own phone, your own work. I won't interfere with your career.”
Clara stared at him.
“What about intimacy?”
The room became painfully silent.
Dante's jaw tightened.
“There will be no intimacy unless you want it.”
She looked at him carefully.
He wasn't smiling.
He wasn't bargaining.
He was telling the truth.
“Why would a man like you make that promise?”
His eyes darkened.
“Because I know what it means to have something taken from you.”
Clara didn't understand.
Not yet.
She looked at the debt documents.
Then at the company.
Then at her father.
Twenty-four years of being the unwanted daughter.
The difficult daughter.
The plain daughter.
The daughter nobody chose.
And now a powerful man was offering to choose her.
Even if the choice came with conditions.
She took a breath.
“Fine.”
Arthur exhaled in relief.
Savannah looked horrified.
Dante did not react.
Clara stood.
“But I have conditions.”
Arthur's face changed.
Dante almost smiled.
“Of course you do.”
“No lies.”
His eyes held hers.
“Agreed.”
“No touching me without permission.”
“Agreed.”
“No firing employees because they annoy you.”
A pause.
“Reasonable.”
“And I keep working.”
“Yes.”
She extended her hand.
Dante looked at it.
Then shook it.
His palm was warm.
Her fingers disappeared inside his.
For one strange second, neither moved.
Then he said quietly,
“Forty-eight hours.”
“What?”
“We'll be married in forty-eight hours.”
Clara stared.
“You work quickly.”
“I don't like uncertainty.”
She withdrew her hand.
“Neither do I.”
Dante turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
Without looking back, he said,
“Clara.”
“Yes?”
“You asked why I chose you.”
She waited.
“I'll tell you when it's safe.”
Then he left.
Clara stood in the middle of her father's failing office.
Savannah stared at her.
“You actually said yes.”
Clara looked at the open ledgers.
“I did.”
“You don't even love him.”
“No.”
“You barely know him.”
“I know.”
Savannah laughed bitterly.
“Then what are you?”
Clara looked toward the closed door.
“Selected.”
For the first time in her life, the word didn't sound like an insult.
May you like
But she did not yet understand that Dante Rosetti had not chosen her because she was disposable.
He had chosen her because someone had spent twenty-four years making sure nobody discovered why she was dangerous to his enemies.
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