Chapter 8: Chapter 7

“First: don’t speak. Unless I ask you something or the situation demands it. You have a nice voice, but silence pleases me more.”

I smirk slightly and raise an eyebrow.

“Second: call me Mr. Moretti. That’s all. No nicknames. No intimacy. This isn’t some cheesy romance novel.”

She bites her lip and nods with that what did I get myself into look.

“Third: don’t ask questions. If it’s relevant, I’ll say it. Until then, smile and nod.”

I tilt my head slightly.

“Fourth: you will maintain a decent appearance. You now carry my surname, and my name does not go well with sloppy, whiny, or dramatic people.”

Chloe runs her hands through her hair trying to fix the disaster she currently is.

“You are under my protection… which means you are also under my expectations.”

I pause, giving a brief smirk.

“So, any objections, Mrs. Moretti? Want to add your favorite color to the contract too?”

“N-no,” Chloe says in a faint voice.

“Good. I like when people learn fast. Saves time… and patience.”

I adjust my watch, stand slowly, and button my suit jacket with precision.

“I believe we’re done here. Thank you for your service, Philip.”

Philip gets up, grabbing his briefcase with his usual professional boredom. He shakes my hand formally.

“Thank you, sir. See you soon.”

He gives a brief, obligatory smile and walks away without looking back.

I turn my gaze to Chloe, still sitting like a statue, processing the bomb she signed.

“Now you, madam,” I gesture with my chin. “Come with me. We have a lot to do.”

I walk away without waiting for her. Enzo and Salvatori follow me automatically, like well-trained guard dogs.

“W-wait!” Chloe jumps up, almost tripping on the rug. She rushes to me, breathless. “I… I need to go to work!”

I stop.

I only turn my head, staring at her over my shoulder. A mocking smile spreads across my lips.

“I don’t give a damn about your job. I believe you now have much more important matters to handle.”

“Don’t expect me to just go with you like this!” she retorts. “I have a life, you know?!”

I turn fully, facing her. I take one step closer, subtly invading her space. Enough to make her hold her breath.

“You had a life, Chloe.” My voice is low.

“Now you have a surname. And with it comes a new reality.”

I tilt my head slightly.

“You can fight it all you want… but you’ll end up in the same place: by my side. Whether you like it or not.”

I make a simple gesture with my hand, and Enzo moves immediately to open the café door.

“Now stop the drama and walk. The faster you accept, the less uncomfortable this will be.”

I walk past him without saying anything else. Why did I go into that alley? I could’ve taken the main street like I always do, but no, I had to be smart and take a shortcut. And now I’m here, tied to a man I don’t even know — all because I don’t want to die.

Salvatori opens the car door. I hesitate for a few seconds, my heart beating faster. I glance at him — Moretti — and get inside. He follows right after, adjusting his suit jacket.

Salvatori closes the door, leaving us alone in the back seat.

"I don’t know your name," I say, crossing my arms.

"Does that matter?" he replies, not even looking at me.

"If we’re pretending to be a couple, the least I should know is your name." I turn my head toward him, keeping my tone firm.

"I already told you that Mr. Moretti is enough," he answers with a brief, mocking smile.

I give him a bored look.

"Great. Then everyone will think I’m just an employee."

"Technically, you are," he says, finally glancing at me for one second. "But you’re not wrong. At least you’ll know my name: Dominic Moretti."

I go silent for a moment. Dominic Moretti… That surname… I’ve heard it somewhere before. I raise an eyebrow, thinking. Then it hits me.

Hotel Palazzo Moretti.

I knew it. I look at him with a mix of mockery and disgust.

"Your family… owns a hotel?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," he replies, dry and short.

I KNEW IT. RICH BOY.

I bite my lower lip, holding back the comment, but the disgust on my face exposes everything.

"Hm. Interesting. And what else do I need to know about you? Maybe start with your age or—"

"You don’t need to know anything else," he cuts me off coldly, staring ahead like my existence is just noise to him.

"Great. Then this farce will collapse in a month, because your wife doesn’t even know your age or anything about you. Very convincing," I mutter, leaning back against the seat with a dramatic sigh.

He doesn’t say another word — and honestly, I don’t care. Let him stay quiet. Let him drown in his own ridiculous plan. I hope this goes wrong so fast that I’m back on my couch eating instant noodles and watching trash TV in no time.

I stare out the window while the car glides through the streets. The gray city matches my mood. Eventually, the car stops in front of an upscale store — the kind where just the name screams “way too expensive for you.” Dominic steps out without a glance back. I exhale deeply, grab my bag, and reach for the handle… then he opens the door for me.

I freeze for a second. Just stare. Oh, now he wants to play the gentleman? I step out slowly, eyeing the fancy storefront. I have no idea why we’re here, but I’m not going to ask — he doesn’t cooperate anyway. If he wants to keep this mysterious-man act up, go ahead.

We walk side by side, but I make sure to keep a respectable distance. The store is so spotless that it feels like breathing too deeply might be forbidden. A fresh citrus scent hits me the moment we walk in. Refined. It even makes me feel slightly dizzy.

I look around. Jewelry. Bracelets. Necklaces. Rings. All so absurdly expensive that the display cases practically scream: you don’t belong here. And no, I definitely don’t belong here.

Dominic keeps the same expression he’d have while picking fruit at a supermarket. He stops at the counter, bored eyes scanning everything.

"Welcome to Maison Valençois, sir," the clerk greets him with a polite smile.

"I want a diamond ring. Delicate. Discreet."

"Of course, sir. I have a few models I believe you’ll like."

She brings a small velvet box, opening it gently. The rings sparkle under the bright display lights. Dominic picks one up, analyzing it in the reflection.

Oh no. He’s not going to… is he?

"Come here," he says, gesturing with his fingers without even looking at me.

I take a deep breath, swallow the discomfort, and step closer.