LINDA
The rope burned against my wrists each time I shifted, but the pain wasn't what terrified me, the man pacing in front of me was. The same man who dragged me out of my father's house while he cried on the floor. The same man whose eyes carried nothing but fire.
Jack Romano.
The son of the man my father betrayed.
I didn't know that when he stormed into our home with guns and men dressed in black. I didn't know anything. One moment I was cutting vegetables in the kitchen and the next I was being dragged away, tied, blindfolded, and shoved into a car.
Now, I was sitting on the cold floor of a large room that smelled of leather, gun oil, and something masculine…..him.
He finally stopped pacing.
"Why are you doing this?" My voice trembled, but I forced strength into it. "What has my family done? What… what am I to you?"
He turned slowly.
His eyes were dark, colder than anything I had ever seen. But beneath that coldness, there was something else, a hurt so deep it had turned into violence.
"You really don't know," he said quietly, almost in disbelief.
"My father said nothing when you took me," I whispered. "He only begged for you to take him instead. Why?"
That broke him.
His jaw tightened. A muscle flickered in his cheek. He wasn't expecting me to talk. He wasn't expecting me to look him in the eyes either.
He dragged a chair in front of me and sat. Circling prey.
"You want to know why?" he asked, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. "Fine. Sit there and listen."
My heart hammered painfully.
He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor for a long moment, as if fighting memories.
"I was eight," he began, voice low. "Eight years old when my father was thrown into prison. When my family's life was destroyed."
He lifted his head. His eyes locked onto mine. They were so dark they almost felt like a storm.
"And it was because of your father."
I swallowed hard.
"My father? He's not.... he's a farmer. He barely even leaves the county. How could he…..?"
Jack let out a short, humorless laugh. "Pablo Deluca? Pablo the farmer?" His voice was razor-sharp. "He was one of the biggest drug distributors on the East Coast twenty years ago."
I blinked. My mouth fell open.
No.
No way.
Not my dad.
"He doesn't even drink alcohol," I whispered.
"That doesn't change what he did."
His voice dropped lower, rougher.
"My father and yours were partners. They handled shipments together. They trusted each other. And one day, a police informant leaked information that a raid was coming. Your father got word. He ran."
Jack's fists clenched on his knees.
"He ran," Jack repeated, voice breaking with bitterness, "and left my father there to rot."
The room felt smaller. My chest tightened.
"My father didn't even know," I whispered, voice shaking. "He… he never told us anything like that."
"He wouldn't," Jack said. "He started a new life. New family. New identity. New peace. While my father…" He exhaled a shaky breath. "My father died in prison last night."
My eyes widened.
"I'm… I'm so sorry."
"Sorry?" he snapped. "Do you know what it's like to grow up without a father? To visit him through glass? To watch the strongest man you know break because someone he trusted abandoned him?"
His voice cracked at the end.
For the first time, I saw the boy beneath the monster. The son beneath the mafia boss. A child abandoned by fate because of my father.
"I didn't know," I whispered. "I swear… I didn't know any of this."
"I know you didn't," he said quietly. "That's why you're still alive."
I stiffened. "Alive?"
Jack leaned back, rubbing his face with both hands.
"You asked what you are to me?" he said. "You're the price."
My heartbeat froze.
"The price for what your father did to mine."
He stood. "The cost of betrayal."
"W-what does that mean?" My voice was barely a whisper.
"It means you're going to marry me."
The air left my lungs.
"No no, why? Why me?"
"Because killing your father would be too easy," he said. "Too fast. Too merciful."
He leaned down, his breath warm on my face, his voice a whisper of violence.
"I want him to live every day knowing his daughter is married to the son of the man he destroyed."
His eyes hardened.
"I want him to live with the guilt."
My tears spilled, hot and helpless.
"But… I didn't do anything."
"I know," Jack whispered. For a moment, his voice softened. Too soft. Almost human. "And that's the worst part."
He turned away from me, heading for the door.
"Untie me," I said quietly.
He paused.
"What?"
"Untie me," I repeated, lifting my chin. "If this… if this is the price for my father's sins, then let me stand and face it with dignity. I'll marry you. Just don't treat me like an animal."
Jack slowly turned back.
Shock flickered across his face—then something else. Respect. Surprise. Something he didn't want to acknowledge.
He walked toward me silently, his eyes locked on mine.
He crouched, fingers brushing the knots on the rope.
He hesitated.
"You're not afraid of me?"
"I'm terrified," I breathed. "But I'm not a coward like you think my father is. If I have to do this, I won't do it begging on the floor."
His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, Jack untied the rope.
The moment my wrists were free, he stood quickly, as if stepping away from something dangerous.
"Get up," he said quietly.
I rose, my legs shaking. His eyes scanned my wrists, reddened from the rope, and something in his expression softened again, before he killed it.
"You'll marry me tomorrow," he said. "A small church. My men. My mother. No one else."
"No family?" I whispered.
His jaw tightened. "They lost that right when your father made his choice."
I looked down.
"Okay."
His breath caught, just for a second.
Then he turned away.
"Don't think this marriage will be easy," he warned. "You will live in my house. Under my rules. You won't see your family again."
Each word stabbed deep. But I didn't break. I didn't cry again.
Instead, I lifted my chin.
"I understand."
Jack froze at the door, visibly shaken by my calm.
"This isn't going to be a normal marriage," he said quietly. "I won't hurt you. But I won't love you either."
"Okay," I whispered.
He exhaled slowly, as if trying to steady himself.
Then he opened the door.
"Get some rest," he said. "Tomorrow, you become my wife."
And he walked out, leaving me alone in the silent room with a pounding heart… and a future that felt like a storm.
************
JACK
I slammed the door shut behind me and leaned against it, letting out a deep, harsh breath.
What the hell was wrong with me?
She was supposed to cry.
Beg.
Break.
Instead she stood up straight, looked me in the eyes, and accepted her fate like a damn soldier.
Linda.
The daughter of the man who ruined my father.
I should hate her.
I needed to hate her.
But when she said untie me, something twisted in my chest, something I didn't want to name.
I started walking down the hallway, each step echoing through the mansion. My men stood waiting.
"Boss?" Marco asked. "Everything okay?"
I ignored him.
I should have been satisfied. I should have felt triumph. But instead, all I felt was a storm inside me.
When I tied her, she didn't scream.
When I told her about my father, she didn't deny it.
When I said she'd be my wife, she didn't fight.
And worst of all?
When I untied her, her wrists were red.
Red because of me.
Something about that bothered me more than it should.
I stopped walking and pinched the bridge of my nose.
She's the enemy.
She's Pablo's daughter.
She's the symbol of everything I lost.
But when she looked at me…
It wasn't fear I saw.
It was strength.
Quiet, stubborn strength.
"I won't love you either," I had told her.
Why the hell did those words feel like a lie?
I headed to my office and shut the door behind me, pacing like a caged animal. My father's picture sat on the desk. I picked it up and stared at the man who raised me through prison bars.
"I'll make him pay, Dad," I whispered. "I promise."
But the memory of Linda's shaking but determined voice echoed in my mind.
Let me face it with dignity.
Why did that hit so damn hard?
I sat, running a hand through my hair.
Tomorrow, she would be mine.
My wife.
My revenge.
So why did my chest feel heavy… as if I was walking straight into something dangerous?
Something irreversible.
Something I wouldn't be able to control.
I slammed the picture frame face-down.
No.
I'm Jack Romano.
I don't fall.
I don't feel.
This marriage is revenge.
Nothing else.
And I would burn the whole world before I let some innocent-eyed girl soften me.
Even if part of me already feared…
She might.