Chapter 1 - The Beast of Manhattan
“We are not selling you, Bianca,” Victor Romano said, though he still couldn’t meet her eyes. “We are securing our survival.”
“By giving me to Dominic ‘The Butcher’ Vance?” Bianca’s voice was a cold whisper that sliced through the heavy silence of her father’s study.
Dominic Vance was not a man; he was a legend whispered in the dark to frighten unruly soldiers. He controlled the docks, the unions, and the shadow economy of New York with an iron fist. He was ruthless, scarred, and notoriously reclusive. He was also a man who had flatly refused every marriage alliance offered to him, earning him the reputation of a monk who worshiped only blood and power.
“Vance’s empire is expanding into logistics,” her mother, Lucille, chimed in, her tone entirely devoid of maternal warmth. “He needs our shipping channels. He agreed to forgive our family’s outstanding debt in exchange for a wife. He does not care about heirs, Bianca. He has no desire for a dynasty. A broken woman is exactly what he wants—someone who will not bring the drama of children and inheritances into his house.”
A broken woman. The words burned.
Two days later, Bianca was driven to a fortress-like estate overlooking the Hudson River. She wore a simple black dress, carrying only a single suitcase of clothes and her laptop. She was prepared for a monster. She was prepared for chains, for abuse, for a man who would treat her like a trophy of war.
When the heavy oak doors of the Vance estate opened, she was escorted into a dimly lit library. Standing by the window was Dominic Vance.
He was younger than she expected—perhaps thirty-five—with broad shoulders, dark hair peppered with silver at the temples, and a jagged scar running from his left cheekbone down to his jaw. His gray eyes were predatory, analyzing her in a single, sweeping glance.
“You don’t look like a broken woman,” Dominic said, his voice a deep, gravelly baritone.
“You don’t look like a man who needs a useless wife,” Bianca countered, standing tall despite the trembling in her knees.
Dominic walked toward her, stopping only inches away. The scent of cedarwood, leather, and expensive whiskey enveloped her. “Useless is a matter of perspective, Bianca. Your family thinks you are a defective asset. I think you are the smartest logistics mind on the East Coast.” He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “But let’s get one thing straight. This marriage is a transaction. We share a house, we share a name, and for the next three days, we share a bed to show the world—and the prying eyes of my enemies—that this union is fully consummated. After that, you are free to run my shipping divisions. Do we have a deal?”
Bianca looked into the eyes of the most feared boss in New York and saw something she hadn’t seen in her own family’s home in years: respect.
May you like
“We have a deal,” she said.
But neither of them was prepared for what would happen when the bedroom door closed.
