Chapter 2 - The Proposal in the ShadowsThe concrete hallway seemed to shrink until the only thing existing in the universe was the dark, calculating gaze of Nikolai Moretti.
My mind raced through a frantic maze of logic, survival, and shock. Marry Nikolai Moretti? The eldest Moretti brother—the apex predator of Chicago’s underworld and corporate elite, a man whose name alone made hardened syndicate capos and Wall Street executives sweat? It was insane. It was dangerous. It was the ultimate nuclear option.
And yet, looking back through those double doors where my family and my ex-fiancé were currently celebrating my public humiliation...
It was the most brilliant, devastating revenge imaginable.
“You’re out of your mind,” I whispered, though my voice lacked any real conviction.
“I am perfectly rational, Evelyn,” Nikolai replied calmly, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal glass. “In fact, I haven't seen a situation this advantageous in years. My father’s council values lineage, loyalty, and absolute control. Julian thinks trading up for a malleable socialite like your sister makes him look ambitious. In reality, he’s tied a millstone around his neck.”
“And what makes you think I would agree to marry you?” I demanded, stepping forward, refusing to cower beneath his intimidating height. “I was just publicly discarded by your brother like damaged goods. Why would I walk straight into the lion’s den with the older, more dangerous Moretti?”
Nikolai set his empty glass down on a nearby service cart with a soft, definitive clink. He looked down at me, his expression turning serious, stripping away the casual veneer.
“Because you want blood, Evelyn,” he said quietly, his voice cutting straight through my defenses. “Not physical blood—you aren't a killer. But you want restitution. You want the people who treated you like a disposable placeholder to watch you rise so high they can never touch you again. Julian wants to inherit the Moretti empire? If you marry me, you become the woman who outranks him, outmaneuvers him, and sits at the head of the table while he groans beneath our boot heels.”
The words hung in the air like static electricity.
He wasn't offering me romance. He was offering me a weapon. A crown forged in cold calculation and mutual survival.
“Three weeks,” I murmured, testing the timeline he had mentioned earlier. “Your father’s council votes in three weeks.”
“Precisely twenty-one days,” Nikolai confirmed. “Which means we have exactly twenty-one days to announce our engagement, secure the council’s unanimous blessing, and ensure that when Julian and your family think they’ve won the prize, they realize they’ve just handed the entire kingdom to the wrong branch.”
Penny suddenly burst through the service door from the ballroom, panting heavily, her eyes wide with panic.
“Evelyn! Thank god, I found you—your mother is looking everywhere, demanding to know where you went so you can ‘smile for the cameras and pretend nothing happened’—oh. Oh, holy mother of God.”
Penny skidded to a halt, her jaw dropping as she finally noticed who was standing beside me in the dim hallway. She stared from Nikolai Moretti to me, her brain clearly short-circuiting as she tried to calculate the astronomical danger of the man standing six inches away.
“Is that... is that Nikolai Moretti?” Penny whispered loudly, grabbing my arm as if to pull me away from a live grenade. “Ev, what are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself assassinated before midnight?”
“Miss Hart was just considering a business proposition, Ms. Lancaster,” Nikolai said smoothly, turning his attention to Penny with a polite, terrifyingly charming nod that made my best friend turn pale.
I looked back at Nikolai, the last remnants of the timid, accommodating girl Julian thought he knew evaporating into nothingness. The humiliation of the ballroom was gone, replaced by a cold, steady clarity.
“If we do this,” I said, my voice unwavering, “it has to be on my terms. No treating me like a decorative prop, Nikolai. If I’m going to be a Moretti, I am going to run the table.”
A slow, genuine smile spread across Nikolai’s face—a look of pure, predatory satisfaction.
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“I wouldn't expect anything less from the real Hart sister,” he said, extending his hand toward me.
I didn't hesitate. I slid my hand into his, sealing a pact that would shake the foundations of Chicago’s elite forever.
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