Chapter 3: A Fine Line Between Control and Freedom
The car slowed to a stop as Dante Montallegro shifted his attention to me. His eyes were sharp, assessing.
"Karen," he began, his voice smooth but commanding. "Tell me your real name."
"This is my real name," I replied, trying to mask the unease rising in my chest. "Mary sent all my documents to you, including my exams."
"Yes, she did," he said, glancing at his phone. "But it was for my secretary. Do your exams always get sent to the clients?"
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath. "It's part of Mary's protocol—proof of health for long-term contracts."
He nodded, but I could feel his eyes lingering on me, scrutinizing every word. As he spoke, his phone rang, breaking the tension. I forced myself to look out the window at the winding coastline of Portofino, anything to avoid the weight of his gaze.
But then my phone buzzed, persistent and urgent. I glanced at Dante. He watched me silently, an almost imperceptible frown crossing his features. His eyes flicked to my phone before he spoke, his voice colder now.
"Answer it only if it's urgent, Karen," he said, handing me a sleek box. "And your phone must remain on vibrate."
I took the box from him, my fingers trembling. The bitter taste of frustration soured my throat. What is it about this man? I thought, he already makes me uncomfortable, more than anyone else ever has in such a short time.
I opened the box. Inside, a brand-new phone gleamed up at me, its sleek design intimidating.
"Consider it a gift," Dante said, his tone unreadable. "For accepting my contract."
I hesitated, staring at the phone. "I can't accept this, Dante."
He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto mine, intense and unyielding. "I don't like being contradicted, Karen. Besides, we're not breaking any rules. As my fiancée, you can't use a cheap phone in front of my clients and investors."
I tried to breathe through the tension, to push away the discomfort gnawing at my insides. This man will drive me insane, I thought. A week. I’ll be lucky to last a week.
"Okay," I said, my voice tight, "Thank you, Dante."
He smiled, satisfied, and I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.
The car finally rolled to a stop outside the grand Belmond Hotel. My mind raced as I tried to gather myself, to organize my things in my bag. But before I could take a breath, Dante was already out of the car, his hand reaching for mine to guide me out.
