MEETING

Dinner at Villa Marlo was nothing like the family meals Eiman knew back home.

The dining hall stretched like a cathedral, its ceilings painted with angels that seemed to mock her from above. A long table glowed beneath golden chandeliers, yet only a handful of people sat there—guards, assistants, and a man with silver hair who appeared to manage the household.

And at the head of the table, empty, waited a chair.

Eiman ate little, the weight of silence pressing on her. Every clink of silverware echoed like thunder. She wanted to ask Who lives here? Why am I here? but the answers frightened her more than the questions.

When the meal ended, the silver-haired steward approached. “Your father has made arrangements, Signorina.”

Her heart stopped. “Arrangements?”

His gaze was sharp, pityless. “You will marry Lucas Marlo.”

The name struck like lightning. “Marry?” Her voice cracked. “No—that’s impossible. My father would never—”

The steward’s lips thinned. “Your father owes debts. Debts cannot be paid with money alone. You are… the answer.”

Her breath hitched. “This is insane. I came here to study, not—”

But his eyes had already moved past her, as though her protests were meaningless.

---

That night, she called her father again. His voice was weary, low, the sound of a man crushed under secrets.

“Eiman, listen to me. Lucas Marlo is powerful. Dangerous, yes, but he can protect you. Once you are his wife, no one will dare touch you.”

Her tears burned hot. “I don’t want protection. I don’t want him.”

“Sometimes,” her father whispered, “we don’t get to choose.”

The line went dead, leaving her shaking in the silence of her gilded prison.

---

The First Meeting

She met him the next evening.

The double doors of the villa’s library opened, and there he stood. Lucas Marlo.

Tall, broad-shouldered, his suit black as sin itself. His eyes, sharp and glacial, assessed her with a calmness that was worse than rage. He looked at her as though she were not a person at all, but a contract.

“So,” he said, his French-Italian accent curling around the word. “The girl my business partner sends me.”

Eiman swallowed hard. “My father never told me…”

“That he sold you?” Lucas’s lips curved into the faintest shadow of a smile, though it held no warmth. “Perhaps he thought you would run.”

“I still can,” she whispered, though her voice trembled.

His eyes narrowed. “Run, and you’ll learn what happens to people who waste my time.”

The threat was quiet. Deadly. Final.

Eiman’s chest tightened, fear coiling inside her. She hated him instantly—his cruelty, his indifference, his terrible beauty. But what frightened her more was the flicker of something in his gaze, something unreadable, as though she already occupied a place in his thoughts.

“Dinner is at eight,” Lucas said coldly, turning away. “Don’t be late.”

And just like that, he left her standing in the vast library, her knees weak, her heart hammering.

---

A Ray of Light

The following day, she wandered the gardens, desperate for air, for freedom. It was there she met her.

“Are you lost?” a soft voice asked.

Eiman turned to find a girl her age—bright-eyed, with dark hair that fell in playful waves, dressed not in stiff gowns but in casual jeans and a soft sweater. She looked nothing like the others in the villa. She looked… alive.

“I’m Eiman,” she said nervously.

The girl’s smile was warm, disarming. “Luna. Lucas’s sister.”

Eiman froze. His sister.

Luna laughed at her expression. “Don’t look so scared. He may be Il Fantasma to everyone else, but to me? He’s just my overbearing brother.”

Something inside Eiman softened. For the first time since arriving, she didn’t feel entirely alone.

The two began walking together through the gardens, their conversation easy, natural. Luna spoke of music, books, and her hatred for the suffocating rules of the Marlo family. Eiman found herself laughing, truly laughing, for the first time since she had left home.

By the time they returned to the villa, hand in hand, something had changed.

In this world of shadows and cold power, Eiman had found a spark of light.

And her name was Luna.

But Lucas Marlo—cold, unreadable, terrifying—was still waiting.

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