Chapter 2: You're Mine Now

Leah's POV

Before I could react, Matto had already swept me up into his arms and carried me out of the room.

My heart was still hammering. I gripped the lapel of his jacket with both hands, my voice unsteady. "Elias — he got shot."

"What, you feel sorry for him?"

Matto's expression darkened. "Remember this: you belong to me now. I won't have you worrying about another man."

"I don't feel sorry for him." I shook my head quickly. "And since when do I belong to you?" What I was actually thinking was simpler and far more selfish — if Elias died, his family would come after me. I scrambled for a more persuasive angle. "And that woman — she's the governor's daughter. If you keep pushing her like this and her father puts out a warrant, what are we supposed to do?"

I didn't care whether Matto lived or died. I just had no intention of going down with him.

"So you are worried about me," Matto said, sounding satisfied. He didn't spare Anna a second thought. "Her father is going to regret having a daughter like her."

"He's the governor," I said, my voice pitching upward.

I couldn't understand it. This man showed no fear at all. Who exactly was he?

Matto carried me into a room and set me down on the bed, his composure unshaken. "That's not your problem to worry about."

"But —"

He cut me off before I could finish. "I told you already: whatever he could give you, I can give you too. Whatever he couldn't, I can still give you. I'm not going to say it a third time."

He straightened up without waiting for a response and walked toward the door. "Don't worry. Like I said, I won't touch you until we've signed the agreement. Rest here tonight."

"Wait —"

I jumped up to follow him, but I was too slow. The door locked behind him with a solid click. The windows had security bars bolted across them, and beyond that, there was nothing but the drop from the top floor of the hotel. My phone had disappeared somewhere during the chaos of being brought here — I had no way to reach anyone.

I circled the room twice and found nothing useful. I sat back down on the bed.

Marry a man who killed someone in cold blood? Not a chance. And none of this was even my fault — whatever had happened between Anna and Elias was their mess, not mine. The fact that the man cheating with her happened to be my fiancé didn't change that.

But I couldn't run. I had no way out. I lay awake through most of the night, and by the time Matto pushed the door open the following morning, I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. He saw through it immediately.

"Time to get up," he said, standing beside the bed.

"No…"

"You'd do well to stop saying things that irritate me."

I opened my eyes just enough to see the faint rectangular outline beneath his jacket — the shape of a gun. My entire body went rigid.

"You can't wear yesterday's clothes all day," he said.

I glanced down at my dress. The fabric was wrinkled and streaked with dust and grime from the night before, the hem twisted out of shape. He was right, not that I was about to admit it out loud.

"I can change by myself," I said, pulling my arms close to my body.

Matto let out a short, cold laugh. "What exactly do you think I'm here to do? Not everyone has your fiancé's appetite." He tossed the shopping bag he'd been carrying onto the bed. Several boxes tumbled out, each one printed with a brand name I recognized but had never been able to afford.

"I told you — I won't touch you until we've signed." He turned toward the door. "Ten minutes. Get dressed and come out."

The moment the door closed, I let out a long breath and tore into the boxes. Inside was a cream-white dress, a soft gray cardigan, and a full set of new underwear — the right size, all of it, as though the order had been placed with my measurements already in hand. The realization sent a fresh chill down my spine.

Who was this man?

He'd shot someone in a hotel room without flinching. He'd dismissed the governor's daughter like a minor inconvenience. And now he was handing me luxury clothing like it cost him nothing, because for him, it probably didn't.

I had no choice. I changed quickly, fingers still trembling. The dress fit perfectly, the cardigan settling soft and even across my shoulders. When I caught my reflection in the mirror, I looked composed — collected, even — nothing like someone who had spent the entire night too terrified to sleep.

I took a slow breath and stepped out.

Matto was standing at the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me. He turned at the sound of my footsteps, and his gaze moved over me once, unhurried, before the corner of his mouth curved upward.

"Not bad."

He crossed the room and reached toward my collar, as if to straighten it. I stepped back on instinct. He didn't react — just lowered his hand and said, simply, "Come with me."

He led me into a second room within the suite, arranged like a compact conference room, with a long table at the center and several documents laid out in neat stacks. A knock at the door came almost immediately. A middle-aged man in a well-pressed suit and gold-framed glasses entered, nodded once at Matto, and turned his professional smile toward me.

My stomach dropped.

I backed up without thinking, and my shoulders collided with Matto's chest. His arm settled around my waist and held me in place. I could feel the low vibration of a quiet laugh in his ribcage — unhurried, almost amused.

"Easy," he said near my ear, then looked up at the man. "This is my attorney. Mr. Williams."

Williams extended his hand with practiced courtesy. I didn't take it. Matto sighed, lifted me by the waist, and set me down in the chair at the edge of the table before taking the seat beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder with the calm, proprietary ease of someone making a point.

Williams opened his briefcase and placed two thick documents in front of me. "These are the agreements Mr. Moretti has prepared for you. Please read them carefully."

The first cover page read: Marriage Agreement. The second: Deed of Gift.

My hands trembled as I turned to the first page. The legal language blurred in front of me, but certain phrases surfaced clearly — lawful spouse, marital obligations, jointly held assets. This wasn't a threat or a bluff. It was a real contract.

"The second agreement is the more significant one," Williams said, indicating the second document. "Under its terms, Mr. Moretti will transfer one million dollars monthly into your account as personal spending funds. You will also receive sole ownership of a luxury apartment in the city center and a vehicle valued at five hundred thousand dollars. These assets are yours for the duration of the marriage and will not be reclaimed in the event of a divorce."

A million dollars. Every month.

My mind went completely blank. My father's company was on the edge of collapse — he hadn't slept properly in weeks over a gap that could be measured in the eight hundred thousand. And this man was talking about a million a month like it was an afterthought.

I raised my eyes slowly and looked at Matto. "Why me?" My voice came out barely above a whisper. "Why did you choose me?"

He raised an eyebrow, looking faintly impatient. "Didn't I already explain that? Your man made a fool out of me. You're his debt to pay."

"But…" I bit down on my lip.

I was the other victim in all of this. I hadn't done anything wrong. And I had nothing to offer — no connections, no influence, no family name worth leveraging. A daughter of a near-bankrupt businessman. What could he possibly want from someone like me?

Before I could find the words, Matto reached over and caught my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up toward his. His eyes were a deep, shadowed green, and the emotion in them was something I couldn't name — something unreadable and very still.