Dante Moncada

Will you marry me?

The CEO of Vignoli Global Designs barely looked up from his laptop.

—Is that your attempt at humor, Dante?

Dante Moncada, president of Moncada Holdings, was not smiling.

—It's not love. It's strategy. A symbolic merger. A marriage of convenience. The contract will last 18 months. We both win. No one gets hurt.

She narrowed her eyes. He was her direct competition. A ruthless businessman with the face of a Greek god and the attitude of a corporate demon. The man who in five years had snatched away three contracts, two investors… and a sigh she never admitted out loud.

—What if I say no?

—Then my next offer will go to your biggest rival. And you know she won't hesitate.

Silence.

"Send me the terms tonight," she said, closing her laptop with a sharp click.

The marriage contract was signed in a five-star hotel, with champagne that no one drank and a list of conditions that not even a real divorce could match.

Clause 6: Each person shall maintain his or her financial independence. Clause 12: They will present themselves as a couple to the media and at public events. Clause 21: No real emotions will be allowed.

Catalina thought it was absurd… until she understood.

Because being married to Dante Moncada was a minefield: fake smiles that burned, fake caresses that felt real, and looks that said more than a thousand corporate emails.

"Don't get me wrong," he whispered to her during a gala. "I'm just fulfilling the contract."

"Relax," she replied with a cold smile. "Your mouth doesn't impress me more than your balance sheets."

They were lying. Both of them. One night, returning from a charity event, the car stopped due to a storm.

Both soaked. Silence. Only the sound of the rain.

Dante looked at her as if she were about to commit a crime. Or save herself.

—User…

"Don't even think about it," he said, taking a step back.

But he kissed her anyway. Hard, angry, with years of pent-up tension. She didn't stop him. She couldn't.

.